Contract Marriage: Married to My Ex-Husband's Alpha Stepfather [BL]

Chapter 153: Go Dancin’ Underneath The Stars

[FROLO]

"Mine," Katya said in earnest, the sincerity rolling off his lips a surprise to him, and seemingly the one thing that shut his subconscious up.

"Yours. Always, little rose. Always yours," Alek said as he captured Katya’s lips in a hungry kiss, ignoring everyone.

The omega had just claimed him, and to the senator who had been hoping for scraps of affection for over ten months, this was worth everything.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, rough, and had Katya moaning involuntarily a little loudly, making them both chuckle.

"Someone’s hungry," Katya teased when they pressed their foreheads together while they took a breather, their lips both swollen.

"For you? Always chairman," Alek teased lightly, pinching Katya’s soft cheeks.

And for a moment, Katya remembered Dream Sergei’s hand on his cheek, stroking gently while the barbarian’s thumb had pressed on Katya’s lips, making the omega hungry for more.

So to shut his mind up, Katya kissed Alek again.

This time, it was passionate, tender, and even tempting to consider a loving kiss.

Again, his subconscious shut up.

Only then did they walk to the gates to check out the head.

There was a head in a box whose shade of black was awfully familiar to Katya.

It reminded him of a black envelope he had had to deal with months ago.

But maybe he was overthinking it all, right?

Katya saw the box first, before the head inside.

He had told himself it was probably just one of the enemies the senator had. After all, politicians were always with enemies, even the good ones like Aleksandr.

But then he looked at the box.

Really looked.

And Katya stepped back like he had been burnt.

"Little rose... Do you know who that person is?" Alek asked.

Katya covered his mouth with his hand like he was scared of making any sound.

Maybe because he didn’t trust himself to say anything proper and not crash out right now.

Of course, the senator, being the protective one, held him close in reassurance as if this was the time Katya really needed it.

But it wasn’t the reassurance that Katya needed right now.

A therapist, perhaps.

Not just for him.

But for whoever had done this.

"He’s a journalist... I’ve seen him on TV a few times," was all Katya said when, in truth, he knew this head.

He knew it so damn well.

The man was a journalist, sure.

But he was the wine journalist who had spent months stalking Katya, making sure Katya never had peace, even in his freedom.

Katya never said a word of it to the senator because he didn’t want the man to be worried.

Hell, he hadn’t said a word of this to anyone at all.

Not even his unhinged best friends.

So it made no sense that his tormentor’s head was delivered in a box at the senator’s residence.

Not even Katya’s residence.

Senator Aleksandr.

This was insane.

"Oh, I’ll have people investigate why his head was sent here. Meanwhile, I need you to go back to the house and relax, alright?

"Let me handle this," Senator Aleksandr said protectively.

Katya didn’t argue.

He couldn’t.

Not with what he had just seen.

It wasn’t just the head that had him stepping back.

But the subtle mark on the ear.

It was something that anyone could miss.

Or even assume that it was just an accident that happened to the head owner before he was beheaded, because it looked cold and whatnot.

But Katya knew.

He knew because Yaroslv had once told him about the unorthodox Moskowsky torture methods that he never wanted to be a part of.

The unorthodox systems that the Moskowsky mob used and the specificity of it all.

How they could make a fresh mark look like it was years old?

How they had phased that shit out, but some people in the family mob still used it.

Katya had never paid much attention to it back then because, honestly, he never cared about it. He was the husband of a Moskowsky heir.

He never needed to worry about what color the sun or sky was.

He was safe.

But that head out there today...

That mark...

Katya knew it.

Not from the tales Yaroslav had been telling him about the Moskowsky madness over the years...

But from his water bottle.

The water bottle that came with the lilies ten months ago.

The water bottle that he had been carrying subconsciously for nearly a year now.

The water bottle that Katya had carried anyway, without using it all the damn time.

The mark on the water bottle...

Matched the mark on the head they had seen out there.

That ’S.’

The calligraphy of it all.

But it made no sense.

Yaroslav had told him about that particular mark.

How it was specific to his father only.

Sergei Moskowsky.

Of course, Katya had suspected that the water bottle and the lilies had come from Sergei.

After all, it was no surprise that the penthouse that Sergei had sent him to had lilies on the balcony. The same lilies that came with the bottle.

Katya had suspected it.

He never had proof of it, though.

But seeing that head there...

It was the confirmation he needed.

Sergei had killed that journalist.

Sergei Vladimirovich Moskowsky.

"That’s impossible," Katya thought to himself as he looked out the window.

The police arrived, and Alek left with the head and the police.

But maybe Katya was right.

It was impossible.

It was impossible for Sergei to have done that because Sergei Moskowsky wasn’t even in the city.

They had left for the memorial of Vitya Moskowsky. Everybody knew that because Irina posted it on her Instagram days ago.

And yes, Katya checked using the phone Alek gave him before he went back to his company.

So to assume that this was Sergei’s doing was a far stretch.

And Katya almost relaxed.

But of course, his subconscious wouldn’t let him be.

The one time he needed that shit quiet, it was yapping away, and there wasn’t shit Katya could do to stop it.

’You thought he abandoned you when he was living right above your office for six whole months.’

Katya knew he couldn’t even try to fight that because it was true.