He lifts the black box and opens it.
Inside, nestled on velvet, lies a necklace that makes my eyes sting.
A chain of diamonds and platinum, delicate and obscene at the same time, with a single pear-cut blue sapphire at the center. It catches every bit of light in the room, throwing tiny light fragments across the walls.
“My father sent you with this bride to buy me off. It shows how little he knows me.”
“Your father didn’t tell me to ‘buy you off, ’ Maxim says, tone insulted. “And I came because I’ve always admired you, but I kept my distance because of your age. I was waiting until you returned from New York, but your father approached me before your visa renewal expired and made the proposal that you and I should marry.”
“If he didn’t send you here to bribe me, then what is the necklace for?”
“Your father doesn’t have to tell me what you deserve. The sapphire alone is worth close to half a million, I’d imagine.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s just a small taste of the life I canafford for you, if you agree to the arrangement our families have made. But this isn’t just a marriage of convenience for me. I’ve also had plans to propose once you lived a life in New York and were ready to take your rightful place beside me. You’re too beautiful and too smart to waste all of that here. We could be a team.”
My throat closes.
“Well,” I say, carefully measured, “I hate roses. They remind me of my mother’s funeral. And I don’t wear gaudy pieces of jewelry like that. Not now. Not ever. You know nothing about me, Maxim, and I know nothing about you.”
“We can change that. Come home with me… I fly back tonight. I’ll have my lawyers in New York send your hockey player divorce papers. I can promise you that my family is still more powerful than your father. I can protect you from him. You’ll have your own life. I’ll give you anything you ask for if you accept my hand, just try me.”
“And ballet?” I ask.
He lets out a scoff. “My wife can’t be a ballerina. She has a duty to the people, to bear the next generation. You have responsibilities, as do I… you know that.”
“Then just as I suspected. We are incorrectly matched. You should find a well-trained poodle who sits on your command. I’m not that woman, Maxim, and I never will be. I’ll only cause you headaches and frustration. And no matter what you think you can offer me, you could never make me happy, because I’m in love with someone else.”
His jaw tightens.
“You can take your things,” I finish softly, “…and leave. My husband won't appreciate you being here with the door closed, and neither do I.” I say the word husband with emphasis to remind him that I am, after all, a married woman.
For a moment, we just stare at each other. His eyes are cool, calculating, weighing the best next move… not unlike the way my father evaluates his obstructions to get what he wants.
Then he snaps the box shut and I turn from him to grab the roses off the makeup vanity for him to take too. I hand them over but he doesn’t take them. Instead, his eyes stay fixed on me.
“Your grandmother is coming,” he says.
My blood runs cold, and I whip a glance back to him.
“Is that some kind of threat?” I ask. “It’s not a threat. I just thought you should know that this all might not go down the way you want it to.” “How would you know that she’s coming?” I ask.
“She’ll be here tomorrow, from what I understand.” He sets the black box on my vanity where I had laid the roses, and then he steps back. “I came out ahead of her, hoping to make this easier for you.”
“Easier,” I echo.
“Yes.” He straightens his cufflinks, adjusting something that doesn’t need adjusting. “You and I both know there’s one person you won’t be able to turn away. Not without… consequences.”
My pulse thunders in my ears.
“She loves you,” he says. “She wants what’s best for you. I suggest you think very carefully about what that looks like, Katerina.” He gestures vaguely to the necklace. “Keep that. In case you change your mind.”
“I don’t want it,” I whisper.
“Consider it… collateral,” he says. “Something to remind you of what you’re walking away from. The luxury you were born and raised for. This life,” he says, glancing around my changing room. “Was fun while it lasted. A little rich girl wanting to see how the other half lives. But performing isn’t in your blood… power is. Being married to me is what you were bred for.”
And with that, he turns and leaves.
The door clicks shut behind him.
I stare at the roses in my hand that he wouldn’t take. The coffin-red petals swallow the light, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
