T H I R T E E N

~ ANASTASIA ~

Then I catch myself.

I shrug casually as I pull my hand away from Isabella's grip.

“I'm not playing any games.” I try to say but my words sound like a slur even to my own ears.

“What happened with the butler?”

“None of your concern. And you too, what happened with the waiter?” I ask, liquid courage flowing in my veins as I step closer to him.

Damien's eyes narrows.

“How dare you order him not to give me what I want?”

“I told you quite clearly –”

“It still hasn't dawn on you that you don't own me right?”

His eyes flare and I smile internally in triumph but it was short-lived as his hand latches to my wrist and he grips it tightly. I can feel my insides boil. Not in anger but in something more dangerous.

Desire.

How can something as simple as a touch turn me on?

“Like hell I don't. You are my wife.” He says, gritting his teeth.

I roll me eyes. “Roomies.” I quote. “Or should I say housies? Do I need to remind you that we don't even share the same bed?” I ask in a whisper.

“You decided to spend your night on the couch, Anastasia. And I didn't hear you saying that when you were coming on my face. I own you.” He says, his voice dangerously close to my ears and I gulp in defeat and embarrassment as I stagger back, blood rushing to my head.

I'm going to die of embarrassment.

I clear my throat, my eyes darting around wildly before heaving a sigh in relief when I see we are almost alone.

I force on a smile.

“So what's next? The lunch?” I ask, trying to change the topic and escape.

He nods in approval. “Good girl.”

My throat goes dry. Will it hurt if I tell him I want to hear him call me that but in another settings?

He pulls me forward and I have no choice but to follow as he leads me down the stairs to the dining hall. When we reach the entrance, I can feel his hand on my head and I raise an eyebrow in question wanting to ask if Damien fucking Vincenzo had been switched but I stop myself.

“Don't say anything to anyone. I will tell them you are sick and don't like talking to people when you are.”

I want to refuse but I know I do act crazy when I'm drunk so I nod and we walk hand in hand into the dining hall. I plaster on a smile.

He draws out a chair for me, on his path to maintaining a doting husband façade and I sit down, blurry eyed and like the obedient wife I'm expected to be.

Damien passes me a glass of water and places his hand on my thighs. He grips my thigh tightly, silently telling me that I can't refuse it so I collected it begrudgingly and down it on the go.

The lunch which I'd decided to call ‘the last supper’ was a blur. I dab my lips with a napkin as my gaze scans the table. The alcohol had slowly worn off due to Damien forcing me to drink glass after glass of water.

When Damien said it's lunch between the Zhukov and the Vicenzo, I thought he meant the immediate family. But now, I know I'd thought wrong. The table was very long but it was filled with different faces I didn't recognise, definitely the core members of the Casa Vicenzo. There are also some members from the Zhukova bratva.

An old woman I didn't recognise sits at Damien's left, directly opposite me while Alex sits at the other edge, opposite Damien. The room is filled with the clangs of cutleries against the dishes, causing unnecessary noise in my sensitive ears.

Gosh, I don't like people.

I let out a sigh of relief when the maids flooded the room and started packing all the used dishes. And I sit stiffly, watching as everyone leaves the hall one after the other, leaving only the immediate members of the Casa Vicenzo and the Zhukova bratva.

I turned to Damien, kicking him underneath the table when he didn't spare me a glance - his eyes were fixed on Alex across the table. I kick him again and he turns to me, brows raised.

I stand up with a sweet smile. “I'm taking my leave now.”

He bite his lip and whispers darkly, his voice barely audible that I'd to read his lip. “Sit the fuck down Ana.”

“Thank you hubby.” I say, bending down to kiss his cheek.

Then, I step away from my chair and bow at the old woman sitting across me before turning and leaving the room.

Damien can go fuck himself.

But when I approached the mansion's main door, it was closed and the butler stood before it, his eyes fixed on me as I took slow unhurried steps towards him.

I stand before him and shoot him a condescending glare. “Can you kindly get out of my way? I need to piss.”

“I'm sorry Mrs… Ms. Zhukov but your husband said you should wait for him at the lounge area or go back to the dining hall. You are not allowed to step out of this place yet, ma'am.”

I chuckle humorlessly, sparing the direction I'd come from a glance. I don't think I will be able to face this butler again. Damien had embarrassed me more than I could count just today.

Oh my goodness.

With a smile that I'm very sure looks like a grimace, I turn away from the door and walk deeper into the mansion. But no, I didn't go to the dining hall.

No fucking way.

At the center of the mansion, right after the lounge area that's used for accepting visitors, there are two spiraling staircases; one leading to the left and one to the right.

My eyes dart between the two, singing a short nursery rhyme in my head. Then, I decide to go for the left after the rhyme stops on it.

I ascend the stairs, my hands trailing the golden banisters. If Damien thinks he can control me, he has a lot coming for real.

I listen to no one except I'm cornered.

And with Damien, I'm doing what ever the fuck I want until he files a divorce. I'm so fucking going to frustrate his life.

The second floor is beautiful with various ornamental vases. It's like walking through a museum. My eyes latch to an elevator at the end of a corridor and I hurry towards it in wonder.

Didn't know the mansion had more than two floors just by staring at its exterior.

I step into the elevator which can only accommodate two people conveniently at a time and punch in the highest floor it brought - the fifth.

The elevator moves for a few minutes before stopping. Then, the door slides open and I step out.

The view up here is beautiful.

Right now, I'm on the rooftop of the Vincenzo's ancestral home. I walk towards the edge and lean on it, my eyes raking over the green fields. There are greens, a whole lot of them.

I can even spot what looks similar to a stable from afar. It looks similar to the scenes Isabella and I do watch in Disney.

I hurry to the other edge, wanting to take a closer look at the forest at the back of the mansion when I feel my skin prickle.

I'm being watched.

And at that moment, I turn just for my eyes to clash with cold emotionless unfamiliar ones.