Page 15 of King’s Promise

“What’s troubling you, Anya?” I can’t bear my little birds somber face.

“I’m not used to being waited on. It’s weird. No offense, Hazel.” Her eyes move quickly to Hazel’s warm face to apologize for any slight.

“None taken, dear.” Her pale blue eyes are soft; she likes Anya.

“I was the one who took care of everyone,” Anya mumbles with a shrug.

This feeds my premise Anya wasn’t happy at home. My heart pitter patters with empathy. A child who wanted respect and recognition from parents who managed to never see her for who she is, and it’s a shame. She’ll be treated better here; I’ll see to that.

“Enjoy having Hazel and hire any staff you two need. I meant to tell you, you are the lady of the house, and you can take over running it. Hazel will help you, but I’m confident you’ll figure it out.” I sip the hot liquid and lean against the countertop opposite of her, totally unaware my towel isn’t long enough to cover the boner I pop as I check out her cute yoga outfit with a zippered bra top and a cut off jacket, neither of which cover her navel. I know I will fuck her sooner, rather than later. I hope she can keep up.

Anya’s eyes grow wide as she notices my needs sticking out egregiously in front of me, and we both come to the realization neither of our sexual needs are being fulfilled. Her body is facing mine, desire shines in her eyes.

Her voice trembles. “I’m to run this mansion? I’m not sure I can do that.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. I believe you can. It’s your home, our home. My mother decorated it to the best of her abilities, not knowing what we’d want, but do what you want. If you require a huge change, such as remodeling or new furniture in some of the rooms, we’ll talk. Otherwise, I want you to make it comfortable for us, functional, you understand.” I observe her surprised face and grin behind the cup at my lips. This will keep her busy and build her confidence. Maybe including her will make her less likely to run, and hopefully, it will bring her closer to me and my family.

I take a sip of my tea even though it’s boiling hot and excuse myself. She’s not a true conservative Brit. I have no clue where she got her Americanized flare for showing skin. I purse my lips together. Maybe the university isn’t harmful after all.

I shower and dress for a formal type of day, choosing a gray suit, light blue dress shirt and Italian loafers. The doorbell rings and I listen as Pavel and Alex enter the foyer. Marble floors are beautiful and keep the house cool in summer but sound travels.

I exit the steps and make my way to the kitchen, pop my head in and address Anya.

“Dress, we have a visitor.”

“What do I wear?” She panics, her eyes searching my face for a word of advice. Her mother didn’t properly train her to fulfill her role as my wife, otherwise she would already know this.

Her mouth opens, then closes as if she were about to protest about changing. Apparently, she thinks better of making a retort. Part of me wishes she sassed me. I have a few toys in my bedroom she might enjoy.

“Anything but what you currently have on now. I suggest you only wear that outfit in the gym downstairs, no need to distract the guards. Come into my office as soon as you can.” I step near Hazel, and snag a warm scone off of a cooling rack before joining the men waiting for me. I learned from Dad how impressive it is to not hide in an office and hand out orders. At times, I need to mingle with my top men. This is a civilized world and, as such, we conduct ourselves to fit the occasion, but today we’re meeting here because I want to keep an eye on Anya. I love watching her facial expressions. She makes me smile, not that anyone would know.

“Bad news,” Pavel greets me off the bat. It’s business first, pleasantries later, apparently.

“Nogood morning?”

“I wish. There isn’t anything good about it,” he replies.

“So early, pray tell, what the fuck has happened?” I slide into my large chair and motion for the men to sit. Pavel leans against the built-in bookcase. No doubt Anya would be ecstatic with all the law books in it as well as classics, some are first editions.

I glance at Pavel, who is six-two and wears his long, black hair in a man bun. My father would have cut it off himself but what do I care? He’s a good man, and we’ve known each since we were teens.

Pavel’s hazel eyes meet Alex’s.

“Baran is dead in his flat. I just left the scene; his phone is missing. I assume he must have called in early the day of Igor’s murder, hm… death.” Alex amends his statement and checks my face to make sure he made the correct move.

I nod.

Until we’re told otherwise, it’s not wise to spread rumors, rumors which may reach the ears of the men who killed Baran, and possibly Igor. No doubt, there are many investigators covering the “nonevent.” There is no need to put ourselves in the line of fire. The tabloids will run with what they are told, and it will blow over.

“Liev speaks highly of you,” I comment with a hand on my desk. I take a bite of the scone and it’s sheer perfection, similar to how I presume Anya will taste when I bury myself between her legs.

“Thank you, boss,” Alex replies with his English accent, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. He’s no slouch, standing over six feet tall and all muscle. It’s safe to assume from his inked hands, tattoos cover his body even though he’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt for the unofficial-official interview today. I know he’s from the rough end of town, where we move tons of product. He’s old enough to be a seasoned soldier.

Anya taps on the door frame, right on cue.

“Anya, come in.” I stand out of respect and so does Alex. “Anya, this is your new bodyguard, you are to go nowhere without him until further notice, is that clear?”

She looks over Alex, his dark hair, dark eyes, and legs spread slightly to make room for his muscular thighs.

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