should say something, but the hurt is too fresh and I find that the only thing I can do is bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying.
“Please. Maxim dropped Catia like a bad habit as soon as he found his ballerina. She’s just jealous and pissed off she isn’t Mrs. Lasovska,” Elena says. Her voice is so soft and sweet that it jolts me with surprise.
“That woman would never be Mrs. Lasovska. Every Russian in town has used her pussy. None of the men would ever take her as a wife,” Dominika sneers.
The shift in our conversation surprises me. The women have decided to direct their venom at Catia. Am I glad they have moved on to her? Yes . Am I glad they dislike her as greatly as I do? Hell, yes .
“I think Maxim did well. A beautiful little ballerina in exchange for a horrible woman who was trying to sleep her way into his checkbook as a permanent fixture. I don’t care how it happened, but I’m just glad he didn’t end up with that awful bitch,” Natalia says.
Then the conversation quickly shifts to another subject. I take the break to just breathe and enjoy my delicious lunch. Sonia grabs my hand under the table and squeezes it as a form of support with a small smile on her lips as we are finishing.
“We do lunch again next week, yes?” Irina asks, her voice rough and not at all matching her sleek body and sweet looking face.
Every one of these women is ruthless, and I wonder what kind of men have married such ruthless women? Are they all like Maxim? Big and brawny, scary at times, and controlling? Possessive and downright frightening when they want to be? I decide they must be just like him; maybe even worse; maybe scarier .
“Yes, of course,” Sonia says with a wave before we are off to the spa. Once I let my hair down, the hairdresser Sonia has chosen takes one look at me and almost cries. He is distraught that some evil bitch would do something so sinister to my locks. While my hair is drying and my toes are being painted, my phone rings.
“Hello,” I say without looking at the caller ID.
“ Angel moy, you have been gone all afternoon. What are you doing?” Maxim asks, sounding distracted and busy.
“I went to lunch with Sonia and some other women, and now, I am trying to get my hair fixed,” I admit, chewing on my bottom lip, nervous that he will be upset I am spending another day at the spa.
“Good. I be home around six this evening. Not too late, yes?” he asks.
I shake my head with a smile. He is distracted and his broken English makes him sound so young and so very human. I love it .
“No, that is not too late, Maxim. Hopefully, I’ll have dinner ready by the time you arrive.” I hear him grunt softly into the phone and then, in almost a whisper, his words rock me to my core.
“My wife making me dinner, so fascinating.”
Without another word, he hangs up, leaving me smiling like a fool.
When we are finished at the spa, tears prick my eyes at the transformation. My hair looks almost the same as before, blonde, soft, and pretty. I never thought I would love my naturally blonde hair as much as I do now. Sonia hugs me and tells me how beautiful it looks and how she’s positive Maxim will be very pleased with the change back.
Sonia and I make appointments for two weeks from today to have manicures and pedicures done, along with waxing and massages.
Once I am back in the car with Sonia, she informs me that in two days, we will continue decorating the house and I should be ready to shop until I drop.
I can’t stifle the yawn that escapes my lips as I gather the ingredients to make a ziti bake for Maxim’s dinner. Sonia sent me a few recipes she thought I could attempt, and this looked the easiest. I am so tired, and it seems like all of the wedding stress, and the anxiety of being a newlywed to a man I hardly know, is finally wearing on me.
I boil the pasta and dice tomatoes along with fresh zucchini as I brown some ground beef. Then I shred mozzarella cheese
“Please. Maxim dropped Catia like a bad habit as soon as he found his ballerina. She’s just jealous and pissed off she isn’t Mrs. Lasovska,” Elena says. Her voice is so soft and sweet that it jolts me with surprise.
“That woman would never be Mrs. Lasovska. Every Russian in town has used her pussy. None of the men would ever take her as a wife,” Dominika sneers.
The shift in our conversation surprises me. The women have decided to direct their venom at Catia. Am I glad they have moved on to her? Yes . Am I glad they dislike her as greatly as I do? Hell, yes .
“I think Maxim did well. A beautiful little ballerina in exchange for a horrible woman who was trying to sleep her way into his checkbook as a permanent fixture. I don’t care how it happened, but I’m just glad he didn’t end up with that awful bitch,” Natalia says.
Then the conversation quickly shifts to another subject. I take the break to just breathe and enjoy my delicious lunch. Sonia grabs my hand under the table and squeezes it as a form of support with a small smile on her lips as we are finishing.
“We do lunch again next week, yes?” Irina asks, her voice rough and not at all matching her sleek body and sweet looking face.
Every one of these women is ruthless, and I wonder what kind of men have married such ruthless women? Are they all like Maxim? Big and brawny, scary at times, and controlling? Possessive and downright frightening when they want to be? I decide they must be just like him; maybe even worse; maybe scarier .
“Yes, of course,” Sonia says with a wave before we are off to the spa. Once I let my hair down, the hairdresser Sonia has chosen takes one look at me and almost cries. He is distraught that some evil bitch would do something so sinister to my locks. While my hair is drying and my toes are being painted, my phone rings.
“Hello,” I say without looking at the caller ID.
“ Angel moy, you have been gone all afternoon. What are you doing?” Maxim asks, sounding distracted and busy.
“I went to lunch with Sonia and some other women, and now, I am trying to get my hair fixed,” I admit, chewing on my bottom lip, nervous that he will be upset I am spending another day at the spa.
“Good. I be home around six this evening. Not too late, yes?” he asks.
I shake my head with a smile. He is distracted and his broken English makes him sound so young and so very human. I love it .
“No, that is not too late, Maxim. Hopefully, I’ll have dinner ready by the time you arrive.” I hear him grunt softly into the phone and then, in almost a whisper, his words rock me to my core.
“My wife making me dinner, so fascinating.”
Without another word, he hangs up, leaving me smiling like a fool.
When we are finished at the spa, tears prick my eyes at the transformation. My hair looks almost the same as before, blonde, soft, and pretty. I never thought I would love my naturally blonde hair as much as I do now. Sonia hugs me and tells me how beautiful it looks and how she’s positive Maxim will be very pleased with the change back.
Sonia and I make appointments for two weeks from today to have manicures and pedicures done, along with waxing and massages.
Once I am back in the car with Sonia, she informs me that in two days, we will continue decorating the house and I should be ready to shop until I drop.
I can’t stifle the yawn that escapes my lips as I gather the ingredients to make a ziti bake for Maxim’s dinner. Sonia sent me a few recipes she thought I could attempt, and this looked the easiest. I am so tired, and it seems like all of the wedding stress, and the anxiety of being a newlywed to a man I hardly know, is finally wearing on me.
I boil the pasta and dice tomatoes along with fresh zucchini as I brown some ground beef. Then I shred mozzarella cheese
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