Chapter seven | Ekaterina
"No," I mutter as I stare at him, thousands of thoughts rushing through my mind and all of them are aiming at one thing.
Punching him.
Which is absolutely ridiculous, "well that's how my house is designed, Ekaterina, you can sleep in the guest room if you're so bothered." He says calmly and I sigh.
Rubbing a hand all over my face and contemplating if I should just jump from the nearest window, "okay fine." I'd rather sleep any where but his bed.
"It's not clean, just for your knowledge." He says as he starts rolling his sleeves up his elbows, my eyes stay on the action for a moment before I shift my gaze away.
"Then let someone clean it, please don't try to convince me that you're the one who makes sure this house is clean," I say, sounding like a spoiled brat which I'm not.
But there's no way in hell that there's no one around here who helps him with this house, it's fucking huge.
And all the furniture is dark which isn't surprising. even the walls are black just like his heart, so there's no way that dust doesn't show clearly on them.
"Valentina comes once every week, and she has two weeks off since she needed a vacation, so you'll have to deal." He says, smiling smugly at me and I let out a frustrated breath.
son of a bitch, "fine, I'll clean it." I say and motion with my hands helplessly, his expression takes a satisfied look and I narrow my eyes.
He's enjoying this,
The prick.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･
I cough again, the amount of rage and anger I'm feeling right now are unbearable, to the point that I want to smash the window I'm clutching on his head.
Alexander left about two hours ago, claiming that he got some 'work' which I'm grateful for, it'd have Been torture if he had to watch me suffer like this.
The room needs to be broken down not cleaned, it's like no one has been inside it for years, I shut my eyes and let my mind drift away.
"I fucking hate you," I say to no one, as I brush the dust off my hair, I need some patience because I'm sure as hell this is just the beginning from the looks of it.
"Do you normally talk to ghosts when you're alone?" His dry voice startles me to the point where I flinch, staring at him wide-eyed.
He raises his hands innocently in the air as if he didn't mean it before he crosses them over his chest and leans against the door frame.
A smug smirk plastered on his face for some unknown reason, "do you normally tend to give people heart attacks?" I shoot back.
Glaring at him, my mouth twists in a disgusting snarl as I raise my brows challengingly, "you can't answer a question with another." He says quietly.
"Ask me if I give a fuck." I mutter and his lips tighten, "do you always curse that much?" He asks tilting his head.
Oh, "yes, a lot." I exclaim and give him a bright smile, "it's so unattractive for a woman you know that." I lie through my teeth but if that's what's going to make me get the fuck away from here I have no problem lying.
"The divorce papers can-" I start but he holds up a hand stopping me, his eyes narrow and I notice a muscle clenching In his jaw,
"I don't fucking care." He says raising a brow and I roll my eyes, "then don't get my hopes high." I murmur and let out a frustrated breath.
"You look like you're having fun." He deadpans and I glare at him before forcing myself to smile, "a lot actually, you know it seems so fun doesn't it?" I ask sarcastically and his face stays blank.
"Do you have a death wish?" He asks in a low tone, one that sends nerves all over my body but from his expression, I don't fail at hiding what I'm feeling.
Great, "no guards are here, you said I can't talk back to you in front of them, we're alone, right?" I ask cautiously as I scan my surroundings.
"Of course we are, do you think that if they were here, I'd have let you roam around the house with this?" He asks, as his eyes scan me from head to toe.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I ask as anger starts picking up in my veins, "what's not wrong?" He shoots back and I shrug.
"Your ass cheeks are in my face, Ekaterina." He says shrugging mockingly at me as he strides away from the room.
Leaving me to pick up my jaw from the floor.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･
"Finally," I mutter to myself as I brush the sweat off my forehead, the room looks like a brand new one.
He should at least pay me for this, speaking of him, since the moment he made fun of what I'm wearing I haven't seen him in sight.
And it's been over eight hours.
Which is great news if we're being technical, "great job to me." I praise myself as I open my bag, grabbing some clothes.
I search for the bathroom through the hallway and when I'm on the verge of giving up I finally find it, surprisingly wow, it's also black.
He's so unpredictable.
I pull the t-shirt off my chest and start undressing as I search for some shampoo that smells good, all their scents are strong and masculine but it's not like I have a choice either way.
I get in the tub and pull the curtain behind me, the hot water that meets my body immediately relaxes all my tense muscles as I shut my eyes for a moment.
A sigh leaves my lips as a hundred thoughts rush through my mind, the main one being that I need to sleep for the rest of my life.
And the second one is searching up how to kill your husband, and even when he's not in my sight he's still eating up my thoughts.
Fuck him and his glares.
My heart drops when I hear footsteps behind me, "what the fuck are you doing in here?" a familiar voice meets my ears and I almost relax when I hear him which isn't a good sign.
But him breaking in is definitely better than a serial killer, I grab the towel and cover my body, or at least try to.
blinking a couple of times so the water leaves my eyes and the asshole who's responsible for the heart attack appears in view.
Aaaand, he's naked, except for the towel around his waist, "I should be the one asking you that." I shout when I finally come to my senses.
"That's my bathroom, you have your own across the hallway." He says narrowing his eyes at me.
"Really? How the fuck am I supposed to know?" I deadpan as I glare at him, not letting my eyes drift over his body.
Don't.
too late, my gaze finds the hard muscles on his stomach, the six-pack glistening with water droplets that are descending to a v-line which leads to places I'd rather leave for imagination.
And when my eyes meet his again, I don't miss the glisten in them, and the stupid smug on his face.
"Can you leave?" I ask annoyingly when he doesn't make a move to do so, he raises a brow, "don't take too long." He mutters and leaves.
The muscles in his back flexing as he moves, and I curse myself internally for letting him humiliate me like this.
Even though he didn't say any humiliating word but his eyes told me enough.