Page 44 of Koroleva

Promises fulfilled

The paintin echoed on the second floor.

My son was in the pool receiving his morning swimming lesson. I took the opportunity to work out and was about to head up to the spa to relax when I heard the rhythmic sound coming down the stairwell.

Nikita hired the services of a masseur because, according to her, she had a knot due to tension. It was the first day the masseur came to the house. I thought it was good to indulge her; she had more than earned it.

We had spent a week where we barely rested. Let's say we were in the process of adaptation. Her men and mine lived under the same roof, sharing the workload between both companies.

I agreed to hire the services of a nanny for a few hours a day, to have time aside from Adriano.

We needed to take care of the Mentium investigation, as well as dot all the i's. The merger was not easy; there were many clauses to touch upon. We ended up having workdays of twelve or fourteen hours. Nikita was insatiable, wanted to know everything in detail, meet with the distributors, medical representatives, clinics, doctors, as well as the executive team of Tecnosalute and, of course, with Dante.

My finance manager and my lawyer kept singing praises of my wife in business matters, and drooled every time she walked through the boardroom, which was daily.

I couldn't blame them for the pool of drool that formed under their feet.

I myself couldn't stop thinking about throwing myself at her. The damn woman knew how to make me sick. With her gestures, looks, touches, and those outfits that would drive anyone crazy.

And the problem was not only her physique, which was scandalous, but that pernicious mind that made me sick, if I even stopped visiting Irene, arguing I was too stressed. It was a half-truth, because my cortisol levels had risen, so my training sessions were much longer, as I tried to compensate.

I thought of Nikita as I devoured the steps separating me from the second floor.

I liked to see how she turned around every explanation to increase profitability. How meticulous she was if there was something she did not understand. She wasn't embarrassed to ask as many times as necessary until everything was clear. I also loved that her hand did not tremble before anything, or anyone. Not even before me. This last point was what most excited me, although I still couldn't be sure her deck of cards wasn't marked. She was too smart for everyone's good.

My father had taken fifteen days of vacation, which he was enjoying with my mother-in-law and my sisters-in-law, so he was unaware of my wife's capabilities, who was more than

ready to be the Vor that Putin longed for in his ranks.

Aleksa and Andrey were inseparable. I told my man I wanted him to become the shadow of my wife's right hand. If someone knew Nikita's intentions, it was that inscrutable guy with the cold gaze and laconic words. I wanted Aleksa to win him over by any means necessary, he had orders to do whatever was needed to achieve it without harming him.

I had just reached the spa door. The frosted glass pane was the only thing separating me from my wife's screams. The sounds were much more intense. The masseur must have been giving her a hell of a beating.

I slid the door quietly to avoid disturbing and peeked in with a smile on my lips. The image that my pupils captured was like a direct punch.

Nikita was naked, sitting on the massage table, with her feet on it and her knees bent while the guy who crossed my doorstep this morning, looking like a recent graduate in physiotherapy, pushed between her thighs.

He was still wearing his robe. The only thing he had down were his pants and underwear.

My wife's hands clung to the table and her neck curved backwards.

A blind fury burned inside me seeing her so given to pleasure. It wasn't me who was offering it, but that worthless young upstart she had just met.

"Harder," she growled, readjusting her neck to pass her legs around the male waist and grab his shoulders.

Nikita was too much woman for that fool.

"But what kind of massage is this!" I bellowed.

The eyelids slid open, and that pair of green slits met mine. A wicked smile spread across my wife's mouth.

"Good morning to you too, honey," she greeted me, without letting go of her lover. The boy froze. I think he even trembled, threatening to shatter if I roared again. He turned his face in horror to look at me, expecting to be split in two at any moment. "Shhh, calm down, little one, my husband doesn't mind, I've told you before."

"I... I think he does mind..."

"No, not at all. He's just surprised, that's all. R understands that I'm a woman with needs and that he can't meet them because his lover drains all his energy and then some. Right, honey?" She emphasized the question. I didn't want Nikita to notice the rage building in me, because all I wanted to do was make love to my wife, and here was this kid, likely fueled by Cheetos and canned food, doing it instead.

"I thought if you called the masseur, it was to get rid of the knot," I said sharply.

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