Alexander

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VI. Divorce

Alexander’s POV:

The fire lit and it inched closer to the cigarette between my lips. I released a breath of smoke, and looked back at the man.

He begged and begged and...well begged.

His body trembled, head planted to the ground. He looked up, and the blood oozed out of his purple eyes. “Please, Mr. Kuznetsov, I’ll get the money by tomorrow. I beg you, let my daughter go.”

I took another inhalation and tilted my head, ordering my men to kick him out. My men grabbed him by the door and dragged him out. “Please! Mr.Kuznetsov! I’ll get the money! I promise! Please, my daug-”

I don’t know why he keeps mentioning his daughter. I don’t care much for her. Wait. Am I holding his daughter hostage? I don’t remember.

The door slammed shut, and I grabbed my glass of alcohol. I brought it near my lips to feel the cool wet sensation. The women beside me, scooted closer while indirectly doing some sort of bitchy glare battle.

One of them places her head on my shoulder. “How dare that man ruin your good night?”

I wouldn’t call this night good, maybe okay at the most.

“Yes, he deserves punishment for what he had done.” The other followed along, twirling her red nails against my chest, pouting her lips at me.

I continued to sit there and ignored both of them. I wonder what I should eat tonight. There is so much food on the table, but I can’t seem to make up my damn mind.

Adrik, one of my men, came up to me and bowed slightly. “Apologies, Mr.Kuznetsov, it seems that security is poor tonight. I will look at it upon myself to ensure this kind of thing never occurred again.”

I stared at the food. “Hm.”

Maybe I should ask Adrik what I should eat.

He bowed once more and exited the private bar. My eyes lifted, and I looked around the room to see a few customers tonight. They would glance at me once in a while, with fear.

I don’t understand why they fear me. I’m an ordinary man in his thirties with an empire that happened to deal with everything illegal.

That’s all.

My attention was momentarily caught by the hand laying on my lap, scrolling it near my length. I held the cigarette between my fingers, burning out the fire. The woman looked at me with her large blue eyes, fluttering the long fake lashes a few times, attempting to seduce me with her innocent looks.

Her large, nearly exposed breasts pressed against my arm. “Mr.Kuznetsov, why don’t we all go upstairs and play together?”

The other one laid her hand on my other thigh. “Yes, let’s play. We promise to give you the best night of your life,” she whispered.

I chuckled in amusement at their attempt at seduction.

The door creaked open, and low murmurs echoed across the room. The clicking of heels against the hard tiles caught my attention. I looked up, and the world fell into absolute silence. The silence stretched dangerously thin, the temptation to snap it was high.

She stepped inside and began strolling down the room in her black heels, which seemed to grow louder with each graceful step. She walked as if she owned the place.

Her tall frame covered by a measly thinned red dress attached to her slender body. Her blue eyes, like the ocean, were calm and emotionless, a dangerous tempting exploration. Long, straight dark hair, smooth and silky, and I can imagine gripping onto it tightly. My eyes lowered, seeing two naturally perky breasts exposed by the deep V cut.

She sat at the bar, flipping her hair towards one side, blocking me from her striking features. She looked straight in front of her, and tap a single finger on her red lips.

She slid her tongue across her lips and bit her finger gently, causing my dick to twitch.

“Mr.Kuznetsov?” I wished people would stop calling me that. It makes me feel old.

It makes me feel like my father.

Wait. Who are these two women, and how did they get so close to me? I don’t recall calling for any women. Maybe they aren’t wrong for calling me Mr.Kuznetsov.

I am getting old.

I snapped my fingers, and one of the men arrived. “Get rid of these girls,” I said in Russian.

He nodded and tilted his head towards the women beside me. More men arrived and grabbed them. “W-Wait Mr.Kuznetsov!” One of them caught me, but my men tugged her away.

“Mr.Kuznetsov is bored with you two,” he said. The men dragged them out of the toom.

I didn’t bother looking at them, as my attention solely focused on the woman who just walked in. Two of my men walked towards her and spoke with her. I would go over there, but I’m too comfortable here. If she can get into this private room, she must know who I am. They parted, and she turned her head to look at me.

She tilted her head and the dark hair fell in soft layers around her bare shoulders. Her eyes analyze every inch of me. I wanted to reach out and touch her lips, full and glossy red even in the fading light.

There was an awareness of the electricity in the air when our eyes firmly locked. It’s almost as if the air cracked, and made it harder to breathe.

It was as if she was fucking me with just her eyes.

After some time, she smirked.

She tossed her hair back, and her mouth motioned.

My men’s eyes widened, and they looked at each other before turning their attention back to me. One of them walked towards me while she rested her chin on her fist. The bartender brought her a drink but glanced at me with worry ensuring he isn’t doing anything wrong.

“Mr.Kuznetsov.”

“What did she say?”

He shuffled uncomfortably. “The answer is: no.”

I laughed, and placed my forehead on my palm then rushed my fingers through my hair. I grabbed the drink and stood up. It seems like I can no longer stay comfortable.

I settled down beside her. Her eyes were settled on the glass of alcohol.

“You caught my attention,” I said.

She tucks her hair back and glances at me. “How privileged am I?” I love Americans.

Always so sarcastic.

“Quite,” I replied. “How about me?”

“What about you?” She questions. Her body still refuses to face me fully.

“Am I privileged for having a chance to speak to such a beautiful woman tonight?”

She chuckles slowly, “You can say that.” Her words were short, difficult to follow. She’s not giving me any room to speak with her any further.

“I apologize,” I said.

“For sitting beside me or for being a coward?” She’s calling me a coward for having my men speak to her first.

“I believe this is a free country.” Or so they say. “I can sit anywhere I please. No?”

She exhales lightly, “Then, stay as you please.” She got off the high chair and opened her purse.

“Drinks on me,” I said.

“I apologize, but I’m not interested in cowards.” She places two twenties on the counter.

And here I thought I shifted the conversation fast enough. I watched as the wonderfully cold woman waltzed out of the room. My eyes dropped towards her assets. American women have a reputation for their large southern borders.

I like it.

I gesture one of my men over. “Yes, Mr.Kuznetsov.”

“Find out who she is.”

“Understood.”

After the eventful night, I found myself awake in a bedroom. I moved the hands away from my chest. Who are these women that keep showing up?

One of the women adjusted herself on the bed as I made my way out of it. I scratched my head and made my way towards the shower. I released a yawn as the water turned on. I don’t want to work today.

Once I finished showering, I realized the three women on my bed were awake. Each of them took a role in the living room. Two were cooking, and the third was making herself comfortable on the dining table. Where did they get all the ingredients for food?

“Good morning Mr.Kuznetsov,” they all said.

I waved for someone, and immediately two people appeared. “Yes, Mr.Kuznetsov?”

“Who are these women?”

“Ah, you asked for women last night.”

I rewind my memories. I guess after a few cups, I did call for some women. “Go home,” I told them.

They all looked at me with that same look I always get, but they didn’t question my orders. If they don’t carry their dignity and leave on their own, I’ll have my men dragged them out. I sat on the table, “Yerik.”

Another man shows up, “Mr.Kuznetsov. Yerik is not here.”

“Where is Yerik?” Yerik is my assistant. He doesn’t kill. He manages all other personal affairs, such as food and finances.

“He requested a vacation.”

“Where?”

“Two days ago.”

“Oh. When will he be back?”

“Two weeks.”

“And I approved?”

“Yes.”

“Call him back.” I need him to cook me breakfast.

“I cannot Mr.Kuznetsov.”

“Did you say no to me?”

He grabbed a tablet and placed a contract in front of me. My signature is clearly at the bottom. It stated that I granted Yerik two weeks off, undisturbed. I can only call him back for emergencies. Breakfast is not considered an emergency. It’s stated in the contract.

Fuck.

Someone laid out a cup of coffee and a file in front of me. “What’s this?”

“It’s the information you had ordered about the woman from last night.”

Did I order my men to research a woman last night? I rewind my memories. Ah, yes. I did—feisty little American. I sipped on the coffee and opened the file.

Rose Arvena.

That name seemingly fits her.

Beautiful but dangerous.

Let’s see. I flipped to the next page.

Parents. Dead.

Siblings. None.

Relatives. Nonexistence.

Works in a flower shop.

Currently on vacation.

I ran my fingers across my jawline. Something seems off. She doesn’t seem like the type to work in a flower shop. There’s definitely something wrong with this beautiful woman. My intuitions are never inaccurate.

I tilt my head to the side.

“Is there something wrong, Mr.Kuznetsov?” someone asks.

I tilt my head to the other side. “Does this woman seem familiar to you?” I show him the picture.

He stares at it for an exceptionally long time. He better not develop any interest in the woman I’m interested in. “No.”

“Hey, you,” I said.

The man beside the door walked towards me and bowed his head. “Yes, Mr.Kuznetsov.”

“You were with me the whole time since we arrived to America, correct?”

He nods, “Yes.”

“Does this woman seem familiar?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve met her before?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Last night. At the bar.”

I gave him a grim look. Of course, I met her last night at the bar. I’m not stupid. I waved him away. Exhaling a deep breath, I stared at the photo. My eyes narrow viciously. I know I met her somewhere else before, but I can’t remember. Maybe age and alcohol finally caught up with me.

“Mr.Kuznetsov,” a man said.

I took another sip, “Hm?”

“Your ex-wife called.”

Which one? “I’m busy.”

“It’s about your son.”

“Which one?”

“The only one left.”

My cup halted, and I set it down. “Don’t I have four?”

“Yes. Your other three sons had passed.”

“When?”

“This past year.”

“And the one left?”

“Andrei. The second son.”

“That’s the one that’s actually related to me, right?”

“Yes.”

I nodded slowly. Of course, I know that my ex-wives gave birth to children that aren’t mine. “Good for him,” I said. He takes after his old man. I cannot believe I called myself old.

“What’s wrong?”

“Andrei got suspended from school.”

“Oh, what happened?”

“According to the school, he got into a fight.”

“Ah.”

“With a prince.”

“Did he win?”

“Yes, sir.”

I nod slowly, “And the problem?”

“Your ex-wife is not happy and would like to speak with you.”

I set the nearly empty cup down. “Put her on.” I got up and headed towards the couch. After I settled down, the screen flicker on.

“Alexander.”

“You called?”

“Just how long are you going to behave this way?” I wish I remembered her name.

My guard leans down towards my ear. “She was your second wife. Lydia Singh. You met her in New Zealand. She slapped you for calling her a prostitute.”

I nodded slowly. I remember her. I got drunk and saw her in the back alley. I thought she was a prostitute. She wasn’t. Normal coffee girl. “The problem?”

“Andrei got suspended!”

“And what would you like me to do?”

“Discipline him!”

“I apologize, but I don’t remember being the one who sends him to a boarding school.” My sarcasm can be picked up an ocean away.

“I wouldn’t have sent him to boarding school if you would take the time to be his father.”

I smile, “And I can tell you’re doing awfully well in disciplining him as his mother.”

“You-”

“Let’s not forget who was the one who paid for his education. The one who provided him clothes. The one who provided you clothes. And your little lover clothes.”

“You killed him,” she hissed. “Isn’t it enough?”

“I should’ve killed you too.”

Her face turned pale. “It’s your fault!” she screams into the screen. This is the only time she is fearless. When she thinks I can’t take her life away since I’m on the other side of the world. “If you didn’t fuck that whore. I wouldn’t have done such a thing.”

I lean forward, “Let me make this clear.” My eyes sink deeply into hers. Immediately, she shut her mouth. “I don’t belong to you. I believe I had stated that clearly before you agreed to the marriage.”

“You-”

“You married me for my money. I married you for your beauty. I believe we had come to an agreement. And well, frankly, I’m sick of your face. So, why should I stay with you?”

“Then, why did you kill him?”

“Because I don’t like it when others touch things that are mine.”

“And now?”

“Now what? You are free to tangle the sheets with anyone you wish.”

“And you do not feel anything even if I fucked other guys?”

I shrugged, “As I said, you may do as you please. But, think twice before using the money I send you for Andrei on your lover.”

Her face turned red, and the video call ended. I exhale lightly. Someone places a fresh brew cup of coffee in my hand. I tilted my head back. Someone came up to me. “What?”

“Your ex-wife called.”

“Which one?”

“The recent one.”

“What does she want?”

“She said she’s pregnant.”

I want to laugh so badly. “And?”

“She wishes for you to change your mind about the divorce.”

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