The singing ends. Everyone expects me to make a wish, blow out the candles, smile for the cameras already pointed my way.
I close my eyes.
When I open them, Parker's watching from across the room, glass raised in mock toast. The threat in his expression is clear. Just how much does he know? Has he made me?
I stuff the questions away for later and blow out the candles.
The party continues for another two hours. Endless conversations, forced laughter, champagne I don't drink because I need my mind sharp. Camille clings to Asher near the bar. Punk vanishes somewhere upstairs.
People don't start to leave until midnight, and I drift into the kitchen, needing distance from all of it.
It’s empty and dark except for moonlight through the windows.
I pour water from the tap, pressing the cold glass against my forehead, and try to remember how to breathe.
Footsteps behind me. I don't turn, already knowing who it is by the hesitant footsteps. As if he’s contemplating his next move.
“We're not done talking.” Parker's voice carries none of the drunken slur from earlier.
I shrug. “There's nothing left to say.”
“I disagree.” He moves closer. I track his reflection in the window. “You think I don't know what you are? What you've been doing behind my back?”
Kind of been counting on it.
My phone vibrates again, and I swipe it up and check the text.
Have you grown weak, Ivanya?
My teeth grit together at the taunting tone
I place the phone down, face down, and turn with the knife in my hand.
He brushes me off, pulling me closer until I’m almost drunk on his breath. Laughter cackles from him as he stumbles further into my space.
“Tsk, tsk, so the cat is finally out the bag…”
My fingers curl in my fist, his eyes fall to the movement, as if watching every single flinch.
“How long?” I ask, brow curled
He leans against the counter directly opposite, unbothered. “The whole time, Young Love….” that nickname crawls over my skin.
“You knew who I was when we married, yet you did it anyway?” It's almost too good to be true. Why would he go along for the ride?
“Mmm… all the questions, but none of them the ones that are important.”
“You killed my father,” I say, deadpan. “And then held me for two years.”
His smile widens, flashing all his teeth. “Yes, Ivanya, I did. I don't care, and you may not find out why today, but you will eventually.”
He starts playing with his zipper, stroking himself through his jeans. Tears fall down my cheeks. “The first thing I’m going to do is take something from you that you’ll never be able to give to anyone else. It will always belong to me.”
I step backward.
“Remember your father, Ivanya,” he coos, countering my step. “You wouldn’t want him to hurt.”
Plucking a cigar from his jacket pocket, he drags it beneath his nostrils before biting it into his mouth. “You know, I admire you, Ivanya, but more than that, I pity you—”his face slips for a moment, all smugness gone.
