Page 21 of Kadra: The Unfeeling

Holding his red umbrella tightly in my hand I watched him leave. “Thank you…” I don’t know what I’m thanking him for. For appearing out of nowhere on my birthday and speaking to me as if I matter or for wishing me a happy birthday. For giving me his umbrella to protect me from the rain. All of it I guess.

And while the sky turns a darker shade of gray different from the one in Mikhail’s eyes I sit and read my book quietly with his umbrella in one hand.

But instead of focusing on the book in my hand, all thoughts are of him. I sit there and wonder if that was the last time I would ever see him.

It wasn’t.

And every birthday after that felt a little less sad and a bit more magical.

All because of the man dressed in black and his smile.

* * *

“That was close, boss.” Crow wheezes as he drops my very own Russian stalker on the bed. As Crow gets him situated in my guest bed I don’t take my eyes off him. I hate the pressure in my chest when I look at the man. It makes me feel like that same little girl lost and angry in a lonely cemetery.

“You’re out of shape, Crow.” I point out the obvious. I don’t ask much from my men besides loyalty to me but I do require them to be in the best shape. They’re trained mercenaries. They should be able to pick up a man as big as Vitali without sweating or wheezing like Crow is doing now and Crow is my best and strongest soldier.

“Nonsense, boss. I’m in excellent shape and in perfect health. That fucker is just a fucking tank.” Crow scoffs and the points behind me. “Tell her, doc.”

Looking over my shoulder, I take in Adryel Croix, our family doctor as he walks in the door looking every bit bored and equally annoyed. “Parisi.” he greets before walking past me towards where Vitali is lying in bed still unconscious. He passed out twice, once in the street and then while my men carried him inside our van to bring him back here.

To be fair, Crow is right. Vitali Solonik is not a small man by any means.

“I’m heading out then. Do you need me to restrain him?” Crow steps back, allowing Adryel room to work on Vitali’s wounds, and walks my way.

My eyes leave Vitali’s sleeping form before training on Crow. Giving him a dull look, I tell him. “He won’t hurt me.”

He won’t.

Not physically at least… the voice inside whispers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Vitali starting to wake. Turning toward Crow, I ordered. “Leave us.”

He nods. “I’ll be right outside.” Bless his heart he still thinks he needs to keep me safe. The reason why I keep them all around has zero to do with me and my safety but for them. I don’t need saving nor do I need security but the people I care about most do and so I built the army of men my father never could. Men who are loyal to me and who would follow me out of respect and not fear. I did what my father never could. What he always got wrong.

What good is a man who fears you? Men who are afraid are bound to betray you.

“Kotyonok.” That deep baritone voice sends electricity shooting through every particle in my body. A shock to my dead heart. Looking at him now, I notice all about him that changed with the years but also all that stayed the same. He is still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen but with his translucent skin, inky black hair, and soulful gray eyes. His full lips are every woman’s dream. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I believed God existed, this man would be his favorite. But it’s not all about his masculine beauty but also the air of superiority that radiates in waves off him.

He’s added more tattoos. His neck is completely tatted up and so is his chest. I wonder if his hands are too. I never did find out since he always wore his black gloves.

Looking down at my own gloves, I try to calm the sudden anger that rises when I stare at him for too long. The anger, the hurt, and the need.

Damn you.

Once I believed he was a friend, the only one that truly mattered but he also taught me another hard lesson. He was never my friend. He was always my beautiful foe.

My gaze is held captive by his darker, grim one. He doesn’t even blink or show any reaction. “Mikhail.” Soon after he falls unconscious again and I am left to watch as the good doctor works on stopping the bleeding and nursing him back to health. All the while there’s a lump in my throat and pressure in the hole where my heart used to be.

It still hurts to see him in pain, doesn’t it? I ignore the annoying voice not wanting to open wounds that are better left closed.

Mikhail Solonik was an illusion.

A lie.

One that was the catalyst of my heart’s ruination.

This man lying in my guest bed with blood oozing out of several holes on his body is no other than Vitali Solonik to me.

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