Page 21

Had I been too hard on her?

I sat reclined in my chair, fingers absently drumming against the mahogany table, my mind replaying the events of that night.

Yes, she never should have snuck out of the house, but was my reaction worth it? Couldn't I have handled the situation better?

The hint of fear and disappointment laced in Alexandra's tone when she’d told me that Lorena shouldn't be stressed out in her condition made me question myself.

In my defense, I was angry at her, with good reason. Lorena was an arrogant little brat who needed to be straightened out on how stuff worked. I couldn't have her insult me. I was her husband, and it was her duty to submit, to be respectful.

However, I'd been doing some thinking, and maybe, just maybe, I might have taken things a little bit too far.

Usually, I wouldn't mind the fear in her gaze, but that night, Lorena wasn't just afraid; she was terrified. She stared at me with so much horror in her eyes, like I was some kind of monster.

I was supposed to be used to people seeing me as such, but with her, it felt different. It felt…wrong. She was my wife, and even though the rest of the world was afraid of me, she shouldn't be.

Why did I care about how she felt about me? She already despised me, a feeling I used to believe was mutual. So, why did I feel this much guilt for inflicting her with fear?

Her misted eyes flashed in my head, then her flared nose, quivering lips, and reddening face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I’d felt my stone-cold heart melt at the sight of her tears, and something broke within me. An unfamiliar feeling of discomfort had overwhelmed me on the spot, a feeling that I later realized was guilt.

The only time that she was permitted to shed tears, the only time that I loved to see tears in those amazing green eyes, was when she was crying out in sheer pleasure.

As her husband, it was my duty to make sure she was happy at all times. I'd put down anyone who dared hurt her without hesitation, hence the reason I never should inflict pain on her, especially when she was pregnant with my child.

She hadn't spoken to me ever since, and the silent treatment was getting to me more than I cared to admit. I thought that I didn't give a fuck, but it turned out that I did. I thought that I didn't care, but clearly, I did.

I did care, which was strange, and no matter how I tried to mask it, I was uncomfortable with us not being on talking terms. I never thought that I'd miss her arrogance and our banter over unnecessary things, yet here I was.

I hadn't been able to get over that incident, and although it had happened just last night, it felt like an eternity already. The only thing on my mind had been how to fix my mess. Lorena was all that I could think about—how I hurt her and how to make things better.

However, as it turned out, I had no clue how to deal with situations like this. I’d never had a reason to, and now, I was struggling.

No one had told me that getting married and gradually developing affection for my wife would be so tedious. I was in a muddle about what to do next, and on my own, I couldn't seem to come up with a rational plan to fix this.

As gruesome as going to war with a rival gang was, it sure was a better option, an easier one compared to the complexity of this situation. At least I knew how to deal with my enemies—I understood the strategies to apply when preparing for a battle.

This, on the other hand, was a whole new territory, one that I was unfamiliar with. It felt like I was on uncharted waters, navigating through treacherous currents with no clear course in sight, and that left me baffled.

I couldn't fathom why this was so difficult; I'd been in worse situations—life-or-death situations—multiple times, but none bothered me as much as this. I'd faced down rival gangs, negotiated with cunning, cold-hearted bastards, and made tough decisions that impacted the fate of our organization.

Yet, I had no idea how to handle one woman.

I had no idea how to fix this rift between us.

There were no battle plans to deploy, no strategic maneuvers to execute, and no foot soldiers to command. I was alone on this one. It was my fight, and for the first time in my life, I was actually blank, with no clue whatsoever on what to do next. It was like I was fighting a war without a clear enemy, and that was a dangerous kind of war.

Oscar Campbell's voice cut through my thoughts, returning me to the present. “Are you listening to me, Alexei?”

I'd forgotten that we’d been in the middle of a conversation before my mind drifted off. My gaze fell back on him as he sat, relaxed in the armchair across the table, eyes fixed on me.

His head was tilted slightly to the side, a puzzled look etched on his face. “Everything alright?” He lifted a brow, his gaze unwavering. “You seem a little…distracted.”

“I'm fine,” I said, my calm voice masking the turmoil within.

He squinted, brows furrowing as though he could sense something was off. Was it that obvious?

My eyes narrowed as I considered opening up to him. He was her father, after all; if anyone had any idea how to help me, it'd be him. However, I was still a little skeptical about spilling the beans. I was a man, and I should be able to handle my household on my own.

Oscar had dropped by my office to congratulate me on the baby, but soon after that conversation, I’d gotten lost in thought while his voice droned on.

Nevertheless, he had my attention now, and perhaps, he would be of help.

Oscar continued. “Anyway, I was telling you that my daughter's not taking my calls—she's not responding to my texts, either,” he complained, his voice laced with worry.

What did he expect? He literally gave her away to save his company, and she was still mad at him. Well, she was mad at both of us now.

“The last time we spoke over the phone, I asked her to come around for dinner at the house, but she turned me down.” His eyes met with mine in a fleeting moment. “She's still upset, and she won't meet with me.” His fingers massaged his temples, gaze dropping to the floor.

Could he really be of much help, considering that he, too, was in her black book?

He exhaled sharply and raised his head to face me again. “How is she?” His expression softened, his voice dripping with emotion.

“You know how it is when they're pregnant,” I replied as casually as I could, my tone smooth and calm.

He thought for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah…they can be a handful sometimes—overbearing, even.”

I raised my brows in agreement, a soft scoff escaping my lips. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

He laughed lightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “It appears you've had your fair share of the troubles that come with dealing with a pregnant woman.”

You have no idea , I thought, responding with a subtle smile. “What does she like?” I asked, looking right at him.

Maybe if I could understand the things that made her happy, I would have a chance at finally fixing this mess.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, brows furrowing ever so slightly.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I mean, what excites her? What tickles her fancy?”

He stared at me, brows arched, with faint creases lining his forehead and an expression of bewilderment on his face. I could almost tell what was running through his mind. He probably was thinking that since we'd been married for some time now, I should’ve known something she liked.

Well, I didn't, and this was me wanting to know.

He rubbed his eyes, his voice dropping to a little above a whisper. “It's embarrassing, but uh…I wasn't super close to her. I'm not exactly father of the year,” he confessed, avoiding my eyes, self-reproach creeping into his tone.

I didn't give a shit about his guilt of being a somewhat horrible dad; I was more concerned about the information that would be of use to me.

“So, there's nothing you know that she likes?” I questioned, my expression darkening subtly, accentuating my disappointment.

He thought for a moment. “Well, there is one thing she loves.” His lips curled into a sly grin as he leaned back in his chair. “Classical music.”

My brows arched in disbelief. “Classical music?”

He nodded. “I know.” Oscar crossed his legs, adjusting in the chair. “Had the same reaction when I found out.” He let out a soft sigh. “Girls her age usually listen to modern-day music, modern-day tunes and beats. But not Lorena.” His smile broadened. “She's different…special.” Pride laced his words.

I had to admit, I didn't see that coming. She never struck me as one who'd listen to such “boring” music, as her mates often tagged it.

Once again, I was wrong to have judged her based on the lifestyle and preferences of folks her age. First, it was her purity; now, it was her mature mind, and a part of me couldn't wait to learn more intriguing stuff about this young woman.

“Lorena's always wanted to attend concerts, and she's got a special fondness for Chopin. But, if I'm being honest, I think her favorite composer is actually Tchaikovsky.”

My brows arched in disbelief, a faint grin lining a corner of my lips. “Tchaikovsky?” I asked to be sure I heard him right.

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky was a renowned Russian composer, famous in the ‘80s, and as fate would have it, I loved his music as well.

“Yeah,” he replied, retaining his smile. “She loves his ballets— Swan Lake , The Nutcracker ….” He chuckled, adding, “She even had a special CD of the Bolshoi Ballet performing Swan Lake , and she used to listen to it all the time.”

Impressive, I thought, my interest piqued by this unexpected revelation.

Now, I knew exactly what to do.

I reclined into my chair, a sly smile spreading across my face.