Page 35 of Always Meant To Be
I can’t help but kiss her again, loving how she knew who I was talking about straight away, just like the perfect Don’s wife she it. I state, “I won’t let you leave me, El. Not now, not ever. The contract was airtight because our family drafted it. I had to abide by it,farfalla.” I look down at her to see her eyes tearing up, and whisper, “I had Maxim keep you on that end of the room that day because I knew about the hit, and I couldn’t lose you, and I couldn’t go to the party without you without raising suspicion. If Liliya had died, our marriage would have been void because you weren’t willing to get pregnant.” She shakes her head, and I straighten and state, “You’re not leaving me, El. I’ll allow you your space in this room for now, but that’s it.”
Walking backward, I smirk at the anger entering her eyes, and say, “I’ll see you in the morning, myfarfalla. Oh, and next week, you're coming with me to Mexico. I have a meeting with Miguel. I’m sure Renata will want to apologize.”
I head to our room, her outraged screech hitting my ears, making me grin and she shouts,“You made me an embarrassment, you allowed me to get shot, I could have died. We are through, Romeo!”
Despite the pain her words bring, knowing the truth of them, I smirk. She’s affected by me; she loves me, which means I won’t lose her, and even if she does try to leave, I’ll take a leaf out of Miguel’s book, and tie her to the fucking bed.
Get ready, El, because you’ve met your fucking match.
Eleven
Elena – One Week Later
I grinas Michaela comes up to the board to complete the math question. Four of my students have failed to get it correct, and she’s their last hope.
“Come on, Kayla, show them how it’s done; give us the extra ten minutes of recess,” Pheobe, her best friend, says, making the class giggle and encourage her, and my grin goes wider.
“Okay…” she mumbles, her dark brows furrowing at the equation as she pushes her glasses up. To herself, she mutters, “All right, 7936 × 76….”
I watch with pride as she breaks down the equation like I’ve taught her. It takes her roughly five minutes before she writes 603,136 in the answer box, then looks at me apprehensively. The class is quiet.
Michaela is my math genius, and part of the Mathletes, so I purposely asked her to come up. It’s rather nice outside, and the students deserve a little bit of sun time.
I bite my lip, trying not to smile as I look at the clock. Then I look around the room, all the eyes on me, full of hope.
A grin spreads on my face as I state, “Your extra ten minutes start now. Mr. Williams is waiting outside for you all.” The class cheers, chairs scraping on the floor as they run outside, and I look at Michaela. “Well done, Kayla. You broke the sum down perfectly, and Mr. Williams has a special treat for you.”
She grins wide before rushing after her classmates, and I chuckle, knowing her face will be covered in chocolate when she returns.
Shaking my head, I wipe the board before grabbing my notes with a smile, and limping back over to the board, writing down the poem they have to analyze this afternoon.
School is my safe place.
It’s the only place where I can feel like I can forget about home life, forget about the fact I’m pregnant after trying for four years to ensure it didn’t happen, forget about the trauma my mother put me through trying to ensure I didn’t turn out like Liliya while giving her everything; forget about the fact my father sold me because he’d had enough of paying for my sisters mistakes, putting me on the chopping block instead, and forget about the fact my husband wants his original choice of bride.
It’s the only place where Romeo doesn’t pop up like an unwanted weed during the day, allowing me to breathe, even though he fought me on coming back to work.
Does my shoulder hurt? Not really, but my thigh, yeah, that burns like a bitch, especially because I won’t take pain relief, but I can’t stay at home, I just can’t. My mind goes haywire, and I start to wonder if he’s moving her in yet….
I gently rub my belly. I may not have wanted the baby, but I won’t endanger it; it’s innocent in all this.
I need to do what I have to, so it doesn’t have my sister as a stepmother.
Easier said than done, though….
I sigh, putting all my weight on my right leg, my left throbbing badly, before I continue to write “Autumn” by Emily Dickenson on the board.
Hopefully, my students won’t be too hyped up from their extra recess time….
I’ve just finished writing on the board when my classroom door bangs open, making me jump back on my bad leg. I wince before glaring at the door, ready to snap at the person out of reflex, only to see my sister in. Holy…. She’s wearing sweats. My sister is wearing sweats.
“Elena!” She cries, tears falling down her cheeks.
I raise a brow. “Are you seriously showing up at my work, where I teach ten-year-olds, crying? And what in the hell are you wearing?”
She flinches, looks down, and then looks around the room, before clearing her throat and rasping, “Maxim is now Pakhan,” like she’s not in a school full of children, and slammed into the room without caring if they were in here.
Wait, did she just…? I look over her again; there’re bags under her eyes, and her nails are all chipped. Ah, that explains it, she wants money, although Maxim taking over is the best news I’ve heard in weeks.