Chapter 43: Go On, Tattle... The Devil Is Alive
[KATYA]
Katya stiffened, like it was part of his Moskowsky programming. Like he had seen the devil step out of hell himself, and he wasn’t even sure what to make of it or if he was to have an opinion.
Sergei was back.
Not just back.
Sergei was here.
In the office, Anya had given him.
And he was angry. He looked irritated.
Of course he was.
An omega had been pulled into his space without his consent. This wasn’t the dynamic that Katya had expected. But after three weeks without any proof of life from Sergei, everything suddenly made sense.
The awful weather.
How the guard had been driving him on longer routes than usual.
The air in the office and the reactions of Anya, Rahim, and Ravolkov.
Katya was fucked. There was no denying it.
Yet for the first time as he stood within the walls of Moskowsky, Katya felt relief in a twisted way.
Maybe because seeing Sergei here was the confirmation that he had failed.
After all, why would the devil of Frolo come back to work on the first day of the third week? That too, right after Anya had told Katya he had two weeks to love himself?
And of course, the icing on the cake...
His reaction to Katya’s clothing.
Now it made sense why Anya had put him in this suit for every day of the two weeks he had walked within these walls.
He was a sacrifice.
An offer to Sergei.
A tool that Sergei could play with. Something that Sergei could do whatever the hell he wanted. It all made sense now, but what the heck was Katya supposed to do with that this time?
Katya wanted to feel offended because of the turn of events, but even that was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Not when his mother was recently discharged, and the Moskowsky medical team was camping at his father’s compound pretending to care.
Not when there was everything he could lose.
So, he stared.
It was all he could do anyway.
"I asked a question, Solnyshka. What the fuck is this? And why the hell would you—" Sergei seethed, walking toward Katya in frustration.
Katya could literally see the veins on his forehead, the way they were. It looked like he wanted to slap Katya’s head off. It was the most dangerous position Katya had ever been in, and he knew he was done for.
Still, he didn’t react.
He didn’t know how to.
Even if he wanted to.
Because at the end of the day, the man before him was nothing close to normal.
There was a reason the entire city coined him the devil of Frolo title.
"Is this how you’ve been coming to the office? Dressed like this? For everyone to SEE?" Sergei seethed, making Katya wonder what the Moskowskys wanted with him.
On one end, Anya was dressing him like a whore ready for the brothel for two whole weeks.
On the other was this barbarian who was losing his shit over what he was dressed in?
Was this the reason he had been made to sign a different contract? Because Sergei would turn him into his slave right here? Gods, Katya’s brain was whirring with a hundred and one thoughts.
Yet he voiced none.
Not even when Sergei stood right in front of him, like he couldn’t believe this was what Katya was doing in his office.
Katya was tempted to defend himself.
To say that he had been put in these clothes by Anya. To say that it was not all his fault. That he was just a pawn being moved appropriately across the chessboard whenever it served Anya.
But he didn’t.
Instead, Katya realized that maybe, just maybe, Sergei wanted an apology for ruining his reputation. Maybe he wanted an apology from Katya for all that had happened right now.
It made no sense. But what the fuck. Right?
"My apologies, sir. I... I had a wardrobe malfunction earlier and put on the first thing I saw. It will never happen again," Katya rambled.
Sergei stared at him. Like he had very well lost his mind.
Determined to at least buy himself time, Katya spoke again.
"I didn’t mean to intrude on your office or position, sir. I understand the terms of agreement didn’t mention me sitting in your seat," Katya said.
When Sergei still didn’t say anything, Katya tried again.
He went on his knees.
Head bowed.
Defeated knees meeting the cold floor.
"I’m sorry," Katya whimpered in defeat when the words faded.
He had to try.
Gods, it was the only way for him.
Because if he didn’t try...
If he didn’t bow and bend the knee...
He’d probably have two funerals to plan.
He couldn’t afford that.
"I’m sorry," he rambled like a prayer that he had been holding onto for the past two weeks. He knew it probably wouldn’t change a thing, especially given the way the office had gone silent.
Rahim and Volkov, who had been chattering, had stopped. Almost like they remembered that they had come to work, too.
Katya couldn’t even blame them. Sergei was back.
Even Anya, who had been snickering, went dead quiet.
Katya heard the door to her office opening and closing, and he knew she was coming for him. Especially when the sound of her heels hitting the floor in his direction was heard.
Still...
Sergei said nothing.
Did nothing.
And Katya stayed on the floor, maybe because the only thing worse than going on his knees on the floor barely weeks after a miscarriage, and that too in a white suit, was being murdered by the devil of Frolo.
No one would find his body.
Or maybe Sergei would send his body to his parents in warning.
Involuntarily, Katya let out a defeated whimper.
He felt his tears pooling, and he wiped them fast, because Sergei didn’t care about anything he said or did. And tears to that mix, even if they were genuinely horrified tears, would come off as a performative apology.
That would definitely doom him.
But the tears didn’t stop.
They kept pooling. And Katya kept wiping them away.
Or at least tried, but kept failing.
Maybe he would add his lack of composure to the list of things that he had failed at today, right?
Sergei hadn’t moved an inch.
Katya noticed.
Maybe because he loved being worshipped like this.
Maybe he loved being venerated.
In an act of desperation, Katya bent lower than he was already kneeling. He knew he was going to die anyway, but he had to try.
Even when he could feel the cramps for his last operation year through him.
And Katya...
He kissed Sergei’s feet. Well, shoes to be exact.
Or at least that was what he intended to do.
But before his lips could meet his shoes, Sergei stepped back.
Katya tipped to the side from the imbalance.
Only for him to see red spots on the floor where he had been bending.
He was bleeding.
On Sergei’s floor.
On Anya’s white suit.
And for the first time in a while, Katya felt completely and utterly useless.
So, he did the only thing he could at that moment.
Put his hand in his right pocket, grabbed a bunch of pills he had downed in there.
"I’m sorry mom and Dad," he mumbled weakly.
Then shoved the pills in his mouth.
Maybe his next life would be easier.
Right?
