𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

the calm after the storm.

you guys can thank my bestie @boooooooookworm for demanding a bonus...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

3 years, 7 months later

GRISHA PETROV

"You're free to go now," I tell Feliks, who's spent the last half hour explaining our company's technological side at the moment since we're going through some turbulence.

I trust him to fix it.

He yawns and nods. "Sure thing, see you tomorrow."

Business has fucking boomed since we launched this new company and expanded my other not-so-legal businesses. Dyaneci, my new gold and other precious materials company, is the fastest-growing company after Tesla. Elon is itching to be on my hit list at this point.

When I look out of the window of my office which lies at the top of a thirty-story building, I see the moon, a crescent. It glows brightly in the night sky. I lean back in my chair after Feliks leaves, listening to the silence that echoes in my ears. All my employees have left.

Having a regular job can be fucking exhausting. But you earn a fuck load more money, that's for sure. If you forget the taxes.

Stretching out the muscles in my neck with the pads of my fingertips, I close my eyes resting for a moment before getting up and packing my shit up. I lock my drawers, one of which contains one of my guns, and slide my other one back into the waistband of my pants.

When I walk to the elevator, briefcase in hand, I press my hand on the scanner to authorise access to it so I can leave quickly, instead of walking down thirty flights of stairs.

Fuck, I can't wait to go home.

My hair is dishevelled, and this black blazer is getting tiring to wear. I pull on my tie, loosening it, almost tempted to take it off. Rubbing my jaw, I gaze at my reflection in the mirror.

Shit, I need a new blazer with how mine is stretching around my shoulders and biceps, nearly bursting at the seams. Trousers too, my calves are inflicting the same problem on my pants. I've been working out profusely, which has resulted in my work clothes no longer fitting me.

The same old grey eyes that she, for some insane reason, loves. My beard is growing, and I'm debating whether or not to shave it.

My gaze falls to the burns peeking from my collar. My throat tightens when I think about that night. They have scarred but I'm not too bothered about it because she got none. If they were going to heal and disappear, they would have now. It's been two years since, after all.

Then the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

Walking past the receptionist, she waves me goodbye and says, "Tell Maya I said hi and that she needs to pop down one day!"

"Will do Agnes. Have a good night," I reply with a nod and pick up the flowers.

A cold gust of wind hits me, as soon as I step out of my building doors. The typical winter weather of Tokyo I suppose. Running a hand through my hair, I walk over to my designated parking space and click to unlock my car when I'm a few metres away.

The Cadillac.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I turn the car on and reverse out. The radio turns on by default and I roll my eyes. I've protected my identity in the eyes of the media and have paid off multiple sites, media companies and magazines to do so.