He nods. “Sure.”
I start heading along the edge of the pool, and he falls into step beside me. Glancing at him, I attempt to find the right words while he watches silently.
“Look, I’ve had some time to think, and…”
“Yes?”
Just say it. He probably feels the exact same way, or he wouldn’t be ignoring you the way he has been.
“Whatever this is between us…it’s not going to work.”
He stops, forcing me to face him.
“Is that so?” His mouth quirks like this is some challenge.
“That’s right. I know you know it too. We’re two completely different people. And I know for you, this whole thing started as some twisted way to screw with me, and maybe it backfired. Or maybe it didn’t. I don’t know.” I laugh, drained from it all. “But I can’t do this anymore, Aleksei. If you want to punish my parents, go ahead. They’ll survive. I’ll survive. But I won’t stay married to someone who can’t decide if he wants me or not.”
His features don’t so much as twitch, but something flares behind his eyes.
“I’m serious.” I take a step toward him, my hand closing around his forearm.
He’s warm. Solid. Real in a way that makes me feel alive. And it makes the next words hurt even more.
“If all of this was just about power, then fine. You win. But just let me go. Divorce me.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Please, Aleksei. I’m not built for this.”
He tilts his head, that maddening smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “I like it when you beg.”
God. That smugness. I want to slap it off his face. Or kiss him, which is worse.
“I’m not joking,” I snap. “You know this isn’t working. Don’t you want to be with someone who actually makes you happy? Someone you want to wake up next to?”
He doesn’t say anything, and that silence tears something open in me.
I swallow past the sharp ache rising in my throat. “Because that’s not going to be me.”
It nearly kills me to say that out loud. But it’s the truth. It has to be.
I try to soften it. “Maybe we can be friends.”
“Friends?” he repeats, as if I’ve just told him I want to become a nun.
“Why not?” I let out a weak, humorless laugh. “We’re practically family anyway. Emilia’s like a sister to me. Konstantin is your brother. This could work. We don’t have to hate each other. We just don’t have what it takes to make whatever this is work.”
He tilts his head. “Marriage.”
“What?”
“This thing between us,” he says. “It is a marriage.”
“It’s really not.”
“Oh, I disagree.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Most people—normal people—they meet, date for a while, fall in love. Then one of them gets down on one knee and asks the other to spend forever with them. You know what I got? A threat. A contract. A goddamn ultimatum. So no, this is anything but a marriage.”
