“Fuck off.”
My brothers told me I was an idiot, agreeing to Dad’s arranged marriage. And now I’m failing at said marriage.
Elijah holds his nerve. “What do you expect when you keep her trapped in a penthouse.”
“That’s not true.”
“She only goes out to meet your mother dearest.”
“Would you fuck off about that.”
“And she’s lost weight.”
A fist forms again. “Now you’re accusing me of not feeding my wife.”
“She scarfs down half a pizza every time I’m there.”
I want to rebuke it, but a fist squeezes my heart.Olga doesn’t even let me snack.
A cold sickness spreads over my body.
“She didn’t even know how to turn on the TV when I first got there,” Elijah says. “It’s not me you should be concerned about. It’s Sergei. The bastard’s her best friend at this point.”
I’ll fucking fire the bastard.
Roma notices my face. “Isolating her is the opposite of what’s good for her.”
“And you know what’s good for her?” I snap.
“Well you don’t,” he retorts with an odd show ofcontempt. “Or else Elijah wouldn’t be trying to offer Russ a lifeline.”
“Don’t fucking call her that.”
Roma rolls his eyes, speaking to Uncle Dima. “We can’t even call her by a nickname.”
“He never liked sharing his toys as a kid.” But he adds, “Russet isn’t a toy. She’s you’re wife, Max. And you have to treat her as such.”
“Why do you make it sound like I don’t?”
“How do you take care of her?” Dima asks.
“I don’t leave her out in the cold. She has a house, she bakes for god sakes. She goes around wearing shoes that cost a thousand dollars.”
“Oh, great he feeds and clothes her,” Elijah quips. “Husband of the Year!”
The accusation burns. My wife and I eat dinner together. Sleep together. Fuck together.
For some reason, it’s not enough for them.
“Do you ever talk to her?” Dima asks quietly.
My brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”
He doesn’t explain, silently waiting for my answer.
“Of course I do.”
“No,” Roma replies. “You don’t. You don’t even talk to us.”
