Genevieve turns at the door before she leaves, throwing me a dazzling smile. "Thank you, Sonya. You're saving me. I know that and I'm sorry."
Once she's gone, I realize how shallow my breathing had become. I lean against the receptionist's desk and close my eyes for a moment, letting the weight of the conversation settle into my bones.
I think of Matvei—his hands, his voice, the way he looks at me as if I'm the answer to a question he's afraid to ask. I think of the child I'm carrying, small and secret, untouched by the chaos swirling around us. I think of what it means to build a future in a space between danger and hope.
My phone buzzes again with a text from Matvei.
Safe?
I smile despite myself. He worries too much, or maybe not enough. I text back.
I'm fine. Late night. Going to the car now.
I pause, finger hovering over the send button. There's so much I want to say, but the words are heavy, tangled in the fear that what I'm feeling might be more dangerous than anything Samson can conjure up. Never mind the idea of Matvei'sreaction when he learns I'm representing Genevieve Mancini against his brother.
I press send then gather my things and walk out into the night. The streets are dark and slick.
I'm not sure who I'm more afraid of—Samson, with his violence and greed, or Matvei, with his gentleness edged in iron. Or maybe I'm just afraid of myself, of the decisions I'm making, the secrets I'm carrying. I think of Genevieve. I think of all the women who come to me with stories they're too afraid to tell, wondering how many times I'll be able to help before the tide turns against me.
Evgeny checks me head-to-toe as I approach. I climb into the back seat of the SUV, suddenly exhausted. Only when he's satisfied I'm fine and has accepted my explanation for the delay that "my boss had to talk to me" does he pull away from the curb.
As we make our way to the mansion, I kick off my shoes and let my head fall back against the headrest, closing my eyes and letting the silence fill me. The baby is a whisper of possibility, a reminder that some battles are worth choosing, no matter the risk.
I wonder how my mother felt when she was pregnant with me. If she regretted her choices and if she still loved my father, though by then she must have seen the darkness in him. I wonder if she tried to get away with me or resolved to stay.
But most of all, I wonder what she would think of the decisions I’m making now.
21
SONYA
“Ineed to talk to you.”
Matvei looks up from his coffee and newspaper. He doesn't say anything, but his eyebrows rise slightly, encouraging me to continue. I have to take a deep breath before I do. I've been rehearsing this all morning.
“Look,” I swallow past the dryness in my mouth, “you promised me that if I moved in with you during my pregnancy, you wouldn't be controlling, that you would let me live my life. I just want to know why that's not happening.”
He blinks. “It’s not?”
I'm a lawyer, and I'm good at arguing. I know that isn’t a question but an invitation to drop the subject, accompanied by the fact that I won’t like the response if I continue. But I don't care.
“This is getting ridiculous, Matvei. Evgeny told me I can't go to court today after my doctor's appointment. I have to, otherwise, another asshole gets out and will probably go after his ex-wife again. You don't want that to happen, do you?”
He sets the newspaper down slowly. “Again, my goal is to keep you safe, to keep the baby safe. What's happening in another woman’s life is not my concern.”
“I don't care if it's not your concern. It is mine,” I reply. “This is my job and I took an oath to do it to the best of my ability. I'm going to court after my doctor's appointment and you’re not going to stop me.”
“I’m not trying to interfere with your life, Sonya, but I am trying to keep you safe.”
“You can keep me safe without ruining my career and other people’s lives. If you don’t back off, I will walk, Matvei. I will walk and you’ll never see me again or this baby ever.”
“I don't have a say in what happens to my child?” he asks, his voice tight.
“What happened to the man who promised he would be in my child's life in whatever way I would have him?” I shoot back.
Matvei's expression flattens, his eyes narrowing. He rises slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, like a predator rising out of the grass to hunt me down. “You don't seem to mind me telling you what to do in bed. In fact, you like it so much you beg me for it.”
“That's entirely different and you know it.” I'm impressed with the way I keep the tremble out of my voice, even though inside I feel like Jell-O.
