Page 49 of Savage Reign

I drop my head into my hands, groaning.

Yelena chuckles from across the kitchen. “Don’t let them get to you.” She pauses, wiping her hands on her apron. “But if you want to take your mind off things, I could teach you how to make cabbage rolls. Every good Russian wife should know how.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Maybe. Although not because I want to be a good Russian wife, but because I might as well learn how to cook while I’m here.”

I sit cross-legged on the bed, staring at the pile of DVDs like they’re alien artifacts. The huge TV in the corner of the room has a built-in player, and while I figured out how to turn it on, getting it to actually play anything is a whole other challenge.

I guess streaming services are not allowed, so I’m stuck with this relic. But I’m so damn bored, I’ll take anything as a distraction.

The remote is bulky and old, its buttons faded and hard to read. I press one, and the screen flickers to the DVD menu. Success? Maybe. I hit “play,” but the screen goes black.

“Seriously?” I mutter, flopping back onto the bed.

After a day spent wandering the house, playing a little piano, reading in the library, and trying to shake off the nagging feeling of being out of place, all I want is to watch a movie—just one normal thing to make me feel like myself again.

I’m glaring at the remote, debating my next move, when a knock at the door cuts through the quiet.

“Come in,” I call, too frustrated to care who it is.

The door creaks open, and Nikolai leans against the frame, one brow raised. “What the hell are you doing?”

I gesture at the TV. “Trying to watch a movie. Do you know how to use this thing? It’s ancient.”

He crosses his arms, the sides of his mouth twitching. “You don’t know how to work a DVD player?”

“No! I’ve never had to use one. Because I grew up in the modern era, where we have something called streaming.”

“Jesus. You’re making me feel old.”

I grin. “Well, you are.”

“Move over. Let me show you how it’s done before you break it.”

I shift to the side, handing him the remote. He takes it, his fingers brushing mine briefly, and crouches by the TV, muttering something under his breath about “kids these days.”

“How old are you, anyway?” I ask, leaning back against the headboard. I’m aware that I’m dressed in an old pair of Eva’s sweats, but if he finds it weird, he doesn’t mention it.

“Thirty-four,” he says without looking up.

I whistle, long and exaggerated.

He glances over his shoulder, one brow raised. “At least I’m old enough to know how to work this thing.”

I laugh, watching as he expertly navigates the buttons. The TV flickers, and the menu appears on-screen. He hands the remote back to me. “There. That’s play. That’s pause. That’s stop. Think you can manage, or should I write it down for you?”

“Very funny.” I roll my eyes. “So, what brings you to my door this evening?”

He leans casually against the dresser. “I thought you might be interested in going shopping tomorrow. Seeing as you’re not too fond of borrowing underwear.”

My cheeks warm, but a smile spreads across my face. “That actually sounds like a good idea.”

I notice he’s not in one of his signature suits. Instead, he’s wearing jeans and a plain black T-shirt that stretches perfectly across his chest and shoulders. It’s such a stark contrast, seeing him like this—casual, almost approachable—but it doesn’t make him any less intimidating. If anything, it’s worse. He’s stupidly sexy even when he’s dressed down.

“What are you watching, anyway?” he asks, nodding toward the screen.

I glance at the DVD case on the bed and hold it up. “Scream. Classic ‘90s horror. It’s the golden age, you know.”

“Never seen it. You complain about ‘90s tech, but you’re all in for ‘90s movies?”

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