"Fine, I'll go. But I won't marry you." My heart doesn't like that answer any more than him.
"Mila—"
"I'll go, Roman. That's what I'm offering. Take it or leave it." I love him, but unless he loves me, I don't want to be locked into any agreement that keeps me from fully living my life. I'd rather die a thousand deaths of heartbreak than to pine for someone who can never return my affection.
He doesn't argue. He sits up and swings his legs off the side of the bed and reaches for his pants on the floor, and I watch the muscles in his back move as he bends and twists, but I don'twant him to leave. We may not get any more nights like this so if this is all I get, I want to savor it.
"You know… This bed is cold…"
He stops with his pants in his hand, but he doesn't look back over his shoulder. I can't tell what's going through his head, but the little girl inside me needs him to reciprocate right now.
I keep my voice steady even though my heart is slamming against my ribs. "So if you don't have anywhere to be…"
Roman's Adam's apple bobs. I watch it from his profile. I think he might get up and get dressed anyway, and my heart already starts to shrink back. But he drops his pants and lies back down, pulling the covers over his body and mine, then turning to curl around me. I press my back into his chest and snuggle down, letting the warmth of his body seep into mine.
It's quiet for a while. His breathing is warm and steady against my neck and his hand rests flat on my stomach, and I wonder if he can feel anything there, any change, any sign of what's growing inside me. I know he probably can’t because it's far too early, but his hand on my belly makes my throat tight anyway. Tears threaten my eyes again, and more than anything, I want to make this situation different.
I wish that telling him about the baby would somehow awaken his ability to express his feelings, but deep down, I have to consider that he doesn't have feelings for me at all. That somehow, this entire thing really does boil down to him wanting my empire, not me. And if that's the case, the risk is far greater than any reward.
"Doctor Levin told me that maybe the reason you're not feeling well is grief…" He pauses and presses a kiss to the back ofmy shoulder tenderly. "Do you want to tell me about him?" Roman's words are stiff and awkward, like he doesn't know how to say what he's wanting to say. It just shows how emotionally disconnected he is. But he's trying.
"My father was shot," I say as he reaches up and flicks the light off.
He tenses, which is a strange reaction, but he doesn't interrupt me. I wonder what he feels as he listens to me, but I don’t ask. He wants to know about Papa, so I tell him.
"We had a family meeting and we were working on a deal with new sources… We didn't know the man had a weapon, and I noticed—just like I did with Barkov at that meeting with you—that the guy was acting strange." The memory is so crystal clear, it hurts. "I didn't think I should interrupt or be rude, so I said nothing."
Now would be the perfect time for my tears to come and for Roman to comfort me, but I don't feel sadness or grief. I feel guilt. And that guilt makes me angry with myself and my stepmother.
"You know it's not your fault. Right?" Roman’s thumb strums my belly while I shake my head. He doesn't understand.
"Vera convinced me that Papa didn’t want me to interrupt. She got in my head and made me feel like I was an annoyance and a problem. I could've warned him and I never got the chance because I was scared." I feel hollow and empty, and Roman's touch pulls me into him closer, where I feel safe.
It's terrifying to feel safe with someone after so long of feeling so unsafe with everyone. I know it's temporary, and I know I can'tkeep it. And if I allow myself to desire it, it will only hurt me in the end.
Roman presses his mouth against the back of my head and keeps it there and doesn't say anything. Nothing he could say would make it better anyway, and at least he's smart enough to know it.
"Sofi and Sabine are the same as their mother," I say after a while. "They're Vera's daughters through and through. Sabine is smarter about it but they're both running the same playbook. Charm you, attach themselves to you, drain you dry."
"I know what they are."
"Then you know what you'd be marrying into." I turn in his arms so I'm facing him, my head on the pillow, our faces close enough that I can see every fleck of color in his blue eyes. "If you intend to marry one of them, you have my blessing. I'll give you everything. The family, the name, the inheritance. All of it. It's yours."
"Mila—"
"But after they're married to you, I want my freedom. I want my debt to you cleared. All ten years of it. And I want to leave. I'll go somewhere far from here and mourn in peace and you'll never have to worry about me again." It's the right thing to say to him, and the right move to make, but my heart is breaking as I say it.
I can't even look him in the eye anymore. I tuck myself into his chest, and his arm comes around me more tightly. When he doesn't respond, I'm not sure if I should pressure him any more. And soon, his breathing falls steady, and my eyes are heavy.
I've given him more than enough chances to tell me that he wants me, and he hasn't taken them. If it was going to happen,it would've happened by now. So I press my eyes closed and let him hold me as we drift off to sleep tangled up in each other knowing tonight is the last night I'll ever get with this man, and there's nothing I can do about it.
26
ROMAN
Korsky's head snaps to the left and blood flies from his mouth and hits the floor in a spray of red that reaches all the way to the base of my desk. He stumbles sideways, but Yegor and Radimir have him by the arms, holding him upright, and before he can get his bearings, I hit him again—a right cross to the same side of his jaw that sends a tooth skidding across the floor. My men struggle to hold him up after that one.
"Roman—" Korsky spits blood and tries to speak, and I grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him close enough that he can see every bit of what's coming in my eyes. This fucker is done. I've had enough of cleaning up messes and I've crossed a point of no return with my temper. I can see it in Yegor and Timur's eyes, but they both say nothing yet.
