Broken Whispers (Perfectly Imperfect #2)(14)

A finger skims over the sensitive spot at the back of my neck, and a slight shudder passes through my body. The hand in my hair stills, then vanishes. No, no, no . . . I lean my head back even more, hoping he’ll get the memo. He does. A few slow strokes down the length of my hair, and then a brush of a finger at my temple. I’m not sure how much time passes, but when Mikhail finishes the story and removes his hand from my hair, my neck is stiff from keeping my head at the unnatural angle. It must have been at least twenty minutes.

“I have some work to finish,” he says. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

He stands up from the bed, walks around me to adjust the blanket around Lena’s shoulders, and leaves the room. He’s not a talkative person, that’s for sure.

I look around the room, regarding the pale pink walls covered with images of animals and cartoon characters and the silky curtains embroidered with flowers. In the corner, there is a big dollhouse and two huge baskets overflowing with toys. I stand up and go to the dresser across from the bed, and look at the picture frames lining its surface. There is not enough light to see the details, but there are at least ten of them, and Lena is in each one. On the side, there is a big box with hair ties in a rainbow of colors. I find it hard to imagine Mikhail browsing in a store and shopping for pink curtains or the frilly cushions that line the wall on one side of the bed, but somehow, I know he was the one who bought them. Such an enigma, this husband of mine.





Chapter 4





I’m buttoning Lena’s sweater when I hear light steps approach and lift my head to find Bianca standing in the doorway. She looks around, walks to the dresser to take the box with Lena’s hair ties, and turns toward me with a question in her eyes. I look at the box she’s holding, then back to her face. Bianca sighs, points to the box, to herself, and then to Lena. She wants to do my daughter’s hair, and the realization makes something in my chest squeeze.

“Lenochka, do you want Bianca to do your hair today?”

Lena’s head snaps up and she beams. “Yes! I want lots of braids, like Noemi from day care. Bianca, Bianca, do you know how to make lots of braids? Daddy only knows pigtails.”

Bianca is trying not to laugh at my daughter’s babbling and failing. She sits down on the bed next to me and motions for Lena to climb on her lap. I watch her as she takes a small strand and starts plaiting it into a thin braid, then moves to the next strand. She repeats the process until there are at least fifteen braids. It takes quite some time because Lena fidgets during the whole ordeal, turning around, picking different ties. Not once does Bianca snap at her. She just smiles, shaking her head.

As soon as her hair is done, Lena jumps down from Bianca’s lap and runs from the room, leaving the two of us sitting on the bed next to each other. I hear Sisi from somewhere in the living room, complimenting Lena’s hair as my daughter continues babbling, but I don’t move from my spot on the bed. Bianca’s hand is right next to mine and I can’t resist this crazy compulsion to touch her again.

I reach out and place my hand over hers. “Thank you for doing Lena’s hair.” When I turn my head to look at her, she’s watching me.

Our faces are only a few inches apart, and I wonder how a creature so painfully beautiful can bear to look at me and not flinch?

“I have to go check on something in one of the warehouses, but I will be back in a couple of hours,” I say. “If you want, you can invite your sister to come over, but clear it with the security guys downstairs. Just send them a message. I’ll leave the alarm codes and the spare key card for the elevator and the door on the counter.”

Bianca nods and her hand starts moving under mine, but instead of pulling away as I expected, she turns her palm up and intertwines her fingers with mine.

“Daddy!”

I look down at our joined hands and then back at Bianca’s face.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Yeah, Lena always has the best timing.

“I have to go.” I stand up and let Bianca’s hand slip from mine. “If you need anything, message me.”

She looks up, those whiskey-colored eyes regarding me with interest. I could spend hours gazing into Bianca’s eyes.

“Okay,” she mouths and stands from the bed. As she walks past me, she reaches over and brushes the back of my hand with hers.





“Wow. Just . . . wow.” Milene turns herself around in the middle of the living room and walks toward the tall windows overlooking the city. “That view is to die for.”

I stand next to her, looking at the rooftops and streets visible below.

“So . . . did you two, you know?”

“What?”

“Did you have sex?”

“No.”

“Renata told me that her husband forced her to sleep with him the same night,” she says. “Theirs was also an arranged marriage, but her husband didn’t care that they were basically strangers. He hurt her real bad, Bianca. I was so afraid the same would happen to you.”

“He gave me the guest room. And he didn’t try anything so far.”

“Do you want him to?”

“Yes.”

Milene stares at me, her eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

“Why? He’s my husband. I am attracted to him.”