But when I burst out of the hallway, it isn’t Dimitri standing there.
It’s an elderly woman in a crisp uniform, calmly adjusting the flowers on the console table. Her gaze lifts—and then drops straight down my body.
Only then do I register what I’m wearing.
Sheer-lace wedding-night lingerie.
Almost nothing.
Absolutely not appropriate for…this.
“Oh God,” I whisper, mortified.
The woman gives me a warm, grandmotherly smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Rusnak.”
My soul just…departs. Leaves my body. Gone.
“God, no,” I choke out. “Please—call me Vivian.”
“Of course, dear.” She nods gently. “My name is Lila. I’m the house help. You can go back inside—I’ll handle everything out here.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, fleeing back into my room like someone lit a match to the floor.
Over the next few minutes, I hear more doors, more voices—staff coming in and out.
A cook.
Guards.
Someone unloading groceries.
Every time a sound echoes through the penthouse, I freeze—but there’s no way I’m stepping out there again.
By the time I finally change into a dress and start considering what to do with myself, there’s a knock on my door.
I frown and pull it open. Amy—the cook—is standing there with a shy smile.
“Miss Rus—Vivian,” she corrects quickly. “Mr. Rusnak asked me to tell you…he’d like you to come out for breakfast.”
My heart slams painfully against my ribs.
Dimitri is back.
Of course he is.
“I’ll be right there, Amy.”
“Thank you.”
She slips away, and I shut the door gently, inhale deeply, and brace myself. If he wants a war, he’s about to get one.
I check my reflection in the mirror—quickly, angrily.
My hair is fine. My face is fine.
I swipe on another layer of lip gloss, more forceful than necessary, like shiny lips could somehow form a shield against Dimitri Rusnak.
Then I square my shoulders and walk out of the room.
