CHAPTER FOUR - SWEATPANTS

CALISTA

I still had a hard time believing this.

But at the same time when I thought about it…it didn't seem so far-fetched anymore.

“Why didn't she say anything to me?”

Sera sighed over the phone.

“Maybe because it was her business to handle?.”

“I…woah…”

No wonder he was comfortable with folding Sera in half right here in the house because his marriage to Eleanor wasn't truly a marriage. It was an arrangement, a contract marriage.

“So they have no feelings for each other?”

Sera giggled.

“Mikhail doesn't even see Eleanor that way. They're purely platonic.”

This explained so many things. The reason why I never saw them kiss, or holds hands.

“What about you Sera, do you have feelings for Mikhail?.”

She hesitated for a moment in the line.

“Sera….”

“No, Calista. In as much as he is very attractive, and sufficient, in more ways than one…” I rolled my eyes. “He's off limits for me. He is literally the head of the Russian mafia. Getting caught up in all that is drama, dangerous…forbidden drama. But fuck, Calista…he…”

She continued saying a string of words I wasn't understanding. I had zoned out, my thoughts were swirling in my head.

She was right.

These were all the reasons that I couldn't get mixed up with Mikhail. Contract marriage or not, legally, he was still my step-father, and lastingly, a torn in my flesh. It was best if I avoided him and acted like today never happened.

“Calista.”

“Calista?!”

I shook my head and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Uh..yeah, yeah I'm listening, sorry. You were saying?”

She paused for a moment.

“I was saying… I feel shitty for not telling you all of this earlier and… I wanted to know if you were still coming so that I could make it up to you.”

Come to think of it, I hadn't asked myself that question.

“Uh…”

“Please…. Calista, Please….”

I inhaled deeply, pinching the tip of my nose.

“Um—”

A knock at the door interrupted me.

“Miss Calista? Dinner is ready.”

I glanced at the screen of my phone.

“Sera, I'll call you back.”

I hung up and walked to the peep-hole at the door. It was Aunt Martha. The assistant cook.

“I'm not really hungry, Martha. Thanks.”

“But Miss, your mother insists that you come down. She says it's important.”

Important?

Could Mikhail have talked? I mean…the fact that his marriage to her is a business arrangement means there's no ‘infidelity’ to be exact, meaning…he has nothing to lose.

But if she found out that I…

“Martha? Is she upset? Angry? Uh…disturbed?”

The woman narrowed her eyes at the question, but then shook her head.

“No, Miss. She's simply…hungry.”

The sigh of relief that left my lips was unexplainable.

Great.

“Thank you Martha. I'll be there.”

————

I took careful footsteps downstairs.

My stomach was grumbling, but, in as much as I was hungry, I was also nervous and still embarrassed. I could hear Mikhail's voice clearly and it pushed a knot in my stomach.

Enough, Calista. Forget today ever happened…and act normal.

I cleared my throat and approached the table. Eleanor's pale blue eyes lifted to mine.

“Calista.”

I pulled out my seat and sat beside her.

“Hi.”

“You aren't at Sera's? Mm…surprising.” She cut into her steak.

“Something came up on her end, a sudden.. engagement of some sorts, I felt really exhausted from the trip and stopped by. Is…that a problem?”

She waved her soup-spoon in the air, controlled so that no droplet would stain her luxurious white corporate suit.

“Ofcourse not, I'm glad you came…maybe I could convince you to—”

Impossible. Staying under the same roof as Mikhail?

“Don't bother.”

I noticed the dagger on the table and stared at it for a moment too long. She was getting more and more involved in the bratva by each day.

She followed my line of sight.

“It's not mine, it's Mikhail's. He wants to gift it to you.”

My eyes shifted to Mikhail who had a neutral expression, but there was still a ghost of a grin on his lips. He said nothing.

“Gift a dagger to me? A weapon? An actual weapon?”

Eleanor nudged it toward me.

“Yes. For protection.”

I scoffed and refused to touch it. Choosing to focus on the food.

“Thanks. But no thanks.”

She wanted to argue, I could see it. But for some reason, she decided to drop it and retrieve the weapon instead.

Silence settled in at the table, until my clumsy fingers dropped something. I cursed under my breath, pushing my chair backwards I reached under the table.

The damn fork had slid to the center.

Ugh.

I crouched under the table and tried reaching out. Unfortunately, I hadn't been blessed with long arms.

“Calista, is everything okay? Want another fork?”

“Nah. I'm all good.”

I decided to crawl to the center to grab it.

And I succeeded. But the mistake I made was looking up.

Mikhail's feet were right in front of me, and my eyes trailed upwards past his knee, to his torso. I sucked in a sharp breath that would've almost come out as a loud gasp if I hadn't pressed my palm against my mouth in time.

He had his member tucked into the left of his thigh, but it was straining against his sweatpants into a very obvious dick print.

I felt the familiar feeling of hunger buzz through my head.

No, Calista!

I snapped out of it, and in the process accidentally bumped my head against the table. Hard. The plates rattled and I crawled out with a throbbing scalp.

Mikhail was pure bad luck.

“Calista, are you okay?” Eleanor asked, running her fingers against the spot my palm covered.

I tried to hold the pain in by pressing my lips into a thin line.

“Yeah. Yeah.. It's nothing.”

“Are you sure you don't need to put ice on it?.”

“It’s nothing.”

I grabbed the chair and sat down, avoiding Mikhail's gaze entirely. I didn't know what sick shit he was using to make my brain react this way to him all of a sudden.

“Cal.” He called out to me, searching my eyes for what…hurt? Guilt? Embarrassment? “Are you sure you don't need an ice pack? It sounded like you hit your head pretty hard.”

I shook my head firmly, trying to dismiss him.

“No. I said I don’t need it.”

But Mikhail didn’t so much as blink. His chair scraped back against the floor as he stood, towering over me with that same neutral expression.

“Mikhail, ” I dropped the fork inside my bowl of soup. “You don’t get to order me around like I’m some—”

“Cal,” he cut me off. “Ice pack. Now.”

Mikhail's husky tone didn’t leave room for argument, and that infuriated me.

"No."

"I'll make you."

I scoffed, crossing my arms, staying seated.

I turned to Eleanor.

"I'd like to see him tr—Mikhail!!"

He grabbed me by the waist and lifted me over his shoulder, I thrashed around, mildly offended that I had been picked up like a sack of potatoes. Eleanor didn't say a word to stop this.

“Put me down right now!”

My face twisted into an ugly scowl as Eleanor kept cutting into her eggs like nothing was happening.

He turned the archway leading to the kitchen.

“Mikhail!”

He pressed down on my thigh and a tremor ran through me.

“Stay still.”

His touch had been warm, I had felt it even through the fabric of my coffee-brown trousers. We crossed into the kitchen and he set me down on the counter.

“Stay. Princess, don't move.”

“I will move if I want to. Understand?”

I tried to come down but he narrowed his eyes at me.

“Come down from that counter, Cal. And I will gift you with one of things stubborn girls get the most.” He flashed his palm. “A spanking so rough you won't be able to sit for at least three days.”

He watched my lips part.

“I'm an adult, not a child that needs disciplining.”

“Correct. Fact is though, you're what….twenty heading to twenty one? and I'm forty-one. I'm more of an adult than you are, and…” he slammed his palms on each side of me, caging me. “We all need disciplining sometimes in our lives.”

Mikhail pulled back and smiled, tight-lipped.

“Stay.”

And he left.

When he returned, he didn’t hand me the ice pack. He pressed it against my head himself. I flinched, more from the closeness of his chest to mine than the cold.

His tank shirt had a hard time containing his pecs.

“I can do it myself,” I snapped, reaching up to grab it.

But he didn’t let go. He held down both my wrist and pinned them to my thigh with one hand.

“You’ll hold it there,” he murmured softly.

I wanted to argue and shove his hand away, But instead, I sat there, like a puppet.

Mikhail leaned closer, he pressed the ice bag on my scalp, his expression was neutral except for that faint curve of his lips. “You’re stubborn,” he said, amused. “Maybe we are… similar? More similar than you think.”

“Heavens forbid. You're the annoying step father I do not regard, or want. There's no way we are similar. Plus, considering your deal…your real deal with Eleanor, makes you a mystery I want no part in.”

His lips curved higher when he realized that I knew.

“I could say the same for you.”

“Huh?”

“About being a mystery I want no part in.” He leaned in close, close enough that I could feel his breath fanning my lips each time he spoke. “Because sometimes, I find you… letting yourself do things you shouldn't be doing, princess. Watching me have sex… gawking at my bulge during dinner….those things….” His finger slid between my lips. “Are bad, Cal. Don't do them again, ever. They will have consequences we won't be able to handle.”

I found my lips parting, forming a circle around his finger. He realized what i was doing and pulled away, shaking his head.

“Stubborn girl.”

I snapped out of it.

“T-Tell me the deal between you and Eleanor. What made you both do this…contract marriage thingy. What you both are benefiting…I..I want to know.”

“Why?”

“Because—”

A loud bang went off outside somewhere. I turned immediately to the window. What the heck? There were vans at the gate, masked-men trying to force their way into the compound.

Mikhail pulled me down from the counter before I could ask panicked questions.

“Fucking hell it's him.”

He reached to the back of his sweatpants.

“Him? Him who?”