I see no point in making myself feel worse by sitting at that table with the maids either ignoring me or talking about me in a language I don’t understand.
I knew my actions wouldn’t go unnoticed, but I didn’t expect Aleksander to be waiting by the door when I got back. With that stern expression on his face, he reminds me of one of my old headmasters everyone feared because he was so strict.
“Mrs. Dmitriyev, your husband requests your presence at dinner. Now,” he informs me.
“Mikhail is actually here?” I hate the way my heart flutters for that bastard.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He started calling me ma’am after I got married. It’s either that or Mrs. Dmitriyev. I hate both. I long to be called Natalia. I never realized how much I would miss hearing my name.
Aleksander takes Snow, and I head to the bathroom to wash my hands and take off my coat.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wince. I look tired and like I’ve aged a hundred years. My hair is up in a messy bun, and my eyes are red like I’ve been crying. I hope Mikhail doesn’t think I’ve been sitting here crying over him.
Summoning courage and theI-don’t-give-a-shit-where-you’ve-been-for-the last-six-daysattitude I practiced, I walk out into the dining room, where I see my husband.
Dressed in black and sitting at the head of the table, he reminds me of weeks ago when I first saw him looking like that.
It feels like a lifetime has passed since that happened, yet it’s been only two days shy of five weeks. I can’t believe so much has happened in such a short period of time, or that I’ve matured so much.
It’s like I’ve been to war.
His eyes pierce the distance between us and take me in as I walk up to him.
I wish I could feel nothing and like the time apart has made me feel less for him. But the only true thing about not being with him is that it’s annoyingly made my fucking heart grow fonder.
Mikhail has the audacity to give me a smile that might pass as pleasant,for him.
“Malyshka, out late again?” he says, enunciating every syllable of my pet name I never thought I’d hear again. “I’m fairly certain I told you to take someone with you if you plan to be out until dark.”
“I had Snow to keep me company, thank you.” I sit in my designated seat opposite him. He continues to regard me.
“My concern isn’t having someone to keep you company. It’s more for safety. Snow is too little to keep you safe.”
Safety?
This is the first we’ve spoken since we said our vows, and he’s talking to me about safety. I’m about to snap because I feel that out-of-control emotion again. If he is so concerned about my safety, why has he been gone for so long?
Tomorrow will mark a week since our wedding, and this is the first fucking time I’ve seen him. Prior to that it was more than two fucking weeks.
“Where have you been?” I don’t care if he thinks my tone is defiant or some shit like that. I think I’m in my right to ask.
“Working.” He gives me a tightlipped smile.
“How come you’re here?”
“I heard you weren’t eating. So, I thought I’d check in.”
I narrow my eyes at him. Before I can think of what more I can say, the maids enter carrying the food.
Dinner was supposed to be served an hour ago. It seems like they were told he’d be home for dinner tonight because they prepare the usual spread they make when he’s around. They do near enough the same for me, but when he’s here, it’s more elaborate and they treat him like the lord of the manor.
Irena, the maid who used to at least smile at me, walks out with a bottle of expensive wine.
She stopped smiling at me the week of the wedding. I guess my suspicions were right about her interest in Mikhail. I figured she was probably hoping to be the next Mrs. Dmitriyev in the family.
She’s smiling now as she approaches Mikhail, and I watch him return the smile with a real one. He’s never smiled at me like that—so easy and normal.