Page 69 of Daddy Brigadier

She blinks rapidly, as if struggling to hold back tears. “So that’s why you were late?”

I step closer, resting my forehead against hers. “I promise I won’t let him hurt you. But for your safety, I need you to stay home today.”

She sighs, turning her head away. I gently take her chin, bringing her eyes back to mine. “Just today, please, Krasotka.”

To my surprise, she nods. “Okay.”

I kiss the top of her head, running my hand soothingly down her wet back. “Thank you.”

“One day. Only because it feels like forever since I had a day off.” She jumps back into the shower.

Satisfied, I turn to leave. As I exit the bathroom, she calls out, “Do you have cable?”

I glance back at her. “I think so.”

“You’re not sure if you have cable?”

“I don’t watch TV.”

“If I’m going to live here, you need to buy cable.” She closes the glass door and starts humming.

“Baby, you can buy whatever you want.”

She opens the door again, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, if I want a new car, an expensive one, too?”

“I’ll call my car guy.”

She laughs. “Of course, you have a car, guy. Now get out before the water gets cold.” She scoops up a handful of water and splashes it at me, the water soaking the tile floor.

As I step into the kitchen, I spot my plate waiting for me on the counter, prepared by the chef. I grab the fork and dig in. The food is absolutely delicious, though it pales in comparison to my Krasotka I enjoyed earlier.

Just then, my phone buzzes. It’s Elise. She has a plan for my retirement and wants to meet at Andrei’s office in an hour. I quickly toss my dish in the sink and wipe my mouth, letting my gaze rest on the rustic wooden table. It feels good to have someone sitting at the table with me again after such a long time alone.

My home is starting to feel likehomeagain with Lexi here.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LEXI

Who knew a day off could feel so good? I napped, enjoyed a fancy lunch that the chef prepared, napped again, and watched some reality TV. I texted the girls to let them know I wouldn’t be coming into the casino today, and the only reply I received was,‘Whatever!’

Now, I find myself alone in Valentin’s office. Waiting. Bored as fuck.

Sipping the last drop of white wine, I sit at the table, my pink floral dress flowing elegantly around me, braless, allowing my nipples to subtly show through the soft fabric.

It’s been a few weeks since I first started spending nights in this loft, and I must admit, I never paid much attention to the place, aside from the bedroom.

The warehouse is enormous, at least ten times larger than mine. The first floor is filled with an array of vehicles, workout equipment, and several locked doors that I can only assume lead to a basement where he stores his weapons.

The loft itself isn’t anything spectacular. It includes just the bedroom, living room, kitchen, and dining room. However, I find Valentin’s office to be particularly intriguing. I imagine he spends most of his time in here deciding who lives or who dies.

The expansive windows showcase a stunning view of the water, and his imposing desk is paired with a luxurious leather chair that sinks, as if he spends too many hours sitting at it. I glance at the lonely bookshelf, adorned with pictures of his late wife and sons. I refuse to let jealousy creep in over someone who is deceased.

The office includes a cozy living area, furnished with leather couches and armchairs that encircle a table topped with an ashtray filled with remnants of burnt-out cigars. A lonely table sits empty, devoid of paperwork. Despite the understated décor, the office radiates an air of undeniable wealth.

I wonder whether the Brigadier has always preferred to live this way. He owned a large house in upstate New York, but was that merely to impress his wife, or did he revel in such opulence? Personally, I prefer this place. It’s simple and serves its purpose.

I can envision a future where I have a space just like this, with soldiers at my command, cars at the ready with a snap of my fingers, and ample wealth to have my own chef without ever resorting to another grilled cheese sandwich.