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I’d caught most of their conversation, coming home early, and clearly unexpectedly, from work, to find my wife and the man I’ve entrusted to guard her with his life, cozy on my couch.
My eyes slice to him when the scent of rose finally dissolves, leaving me aching for more. My skin itches with the need to be near her. To hear her confess her thoughts to me. Her fears. Her broken faith.
I want everything she is clearly so eager to give to him.
Maxim sits back in the couch, lifting his hands in surrender. But he’s smart enough to remain silent.
Slowly, I move into the room. I lower to the coffee table directly in front of him. “She is comfortable with you.”
His eyes hold mine. “She is curious about you.”
To this, I raise a brow. “Is that so?”
“She asks of you often.”
A burn of something unpleasantly—well, pleasant—moves through me. I like that she asks of me. I just wish she’d ask me.
“And what is it about me she is so curious of?”
“Everything.”
Tension spreads inside me like wildfire over a parched forest. “Maxim.”
“She’s afraid of you. Terrified, actually. She’s angry that she is here, with no way back to the life she knew. But most of all,” he gives a small shrug, “I think she is grieving. She’s looking for comfort and has no one to take it from. No one here she trusts enough to ask for it from.”
“I am here,” I say more to myself than to him. “I’m her husband.”
“You are her jailor. Her keeper.”
My eyes snap to him, displeasure and danger he’s too young to heed, flashing in my eyes. I warn, “Maxim.”
“That is how she views you, boss. If you want her to look at you some other way, you have to become something else to her. You have to mean something to her, and that will take time and patience.”
He’s right, I know. I just don’t know how to be this something else he speaks of. I’ve been me for so long, I’m unsure how to channel something other.
“Any suggestions?” I sigh, tired.
He laughs, an abrupt and surprised sound. Then he heaves a sigh. “Dimitri mentioned something about you considering a cat.”
I sneer, lip curling. “Dimitri is on his way to losing his tongue.”
“Let me know if you need someone to hold him down,” Maxim jests. “Until then, Sasha’s sister has kittens. If you want one…”
Scrubbing my hands over my scowl, I grunt. “Tell him I want two.”
When I’m at the door, Maxim calls out to me, “Oh, and boss?”
“What?” I can’t believe I’m getting two fucking cats.
“She told me a few days ago that she misses relaxing.”
“Relaxing?”
“She liked to unwind with a movie and snacks. She also has a sweet tooth. I caught her hunting the kitchen for candy.”
“Candy?”
“Gummies, to be specific.”
