"That was excessive, Ro."
"He jeopardized the gala." My motives and actions don't need to be questioned.
"He got into a bar fight. You broke both of his wrists. He'll never fight again. He'll barely be able to hold a fork." Timur unfolds his arms and takes a step into the room. "That wasn't about Korsky."
I walk to the bar cart near the window and pour whiskey into a glass and drain it and pour another immediately. The burn down my throat does nothing to simmer the rage sitting in my chest, so I pour a third and drink that too.
"Talk to me," Timur says, " because something's going on. You're not acting like yourself. You never get out of control like this."
"There's nothing to talk about." I'm so close to exploding, I can feel it in my eyeballs. The pressure inside my head builds as he speaks, and the last thing I want is to blow up at him.
"There's clearly a lot to talk about. Just look at the way you're acting. You know yourself that you never would've done something like that." He stews, huffing a few times, and then says, "What the hell is going on?"
"Get the fuck out. Just get out of my house."
Timur shrinks back toward the door while I stand by the window seething. I could solve this instantly and get what I want by making the announcement I fully intended to make anyway.Force Mila to marry me as part of her debt she owes for stealing from me, but then I'd be no better than her stepmother.
And while I want more than anything for her to be my wife, I won't do that to her. She deserves better.
So what do I do with this ball of fiery rage I can't quench?
"Roman, you need to get your shit together, man. We care about you, but I'm not sure our guys are gonna keep standing by you if you are out of control like this."
"I said out!" I snarl, turning at him, but I see how his face is drawn in concern. He doesn't deserve this treatment either, but the monster inside me is roaring and must be satisfied.
Timur slips out while I pour a fourth glass of liquor and stand there sipping it.
I love her. More than I have ever loved anyone or anything, and for the first time in my life, it's not about me or what I want. It's really about her. She's been a pawn in someone else's game for so long, she has no clue how it feels to be free, and that's all she wants.
They say if you love someone, set them free, and if they return, they're truly yours.
But can I really let her go? Am I strong enough to do that and not fall apart?
27
MILA
Sorin zips the back of the emerald dress while Sara pins my hair up in sections, twisting it away from my face with quick, careful fingers. I'm standing in the middle of my room nibbling on bread because if I stop eating for more than twenty minutes, the nausea comes back, and throwing up on a dress this expensive would be humiliating.
"Hold still," Sorin says, tugging the zipper the last inch. "The bodice is tight."
"Ouch, hey!" I wince. I know the bodice is too tight. I've been noticing every bra I have is too small too. My boobs are swelling with pregnancy already and soon, my belly will be. I will have no way to hide it.
"Arms up." Sorin checks the seams at my sides, running her hands along the fabric to smooth it, and steps back to look at the full picture. "The slit is higher than I expected."
"Look, Roman picked it, not me." I have to admit I do like the dress and the color, though the cut is a bit too immodest for mytaste. But this is the only gown I have and I can't go to the gala without a dress.
Sara finishes the last pin and comes around to face me, tilting her head, and a grin spreads across her face. "You look incredible, Mila. It's a bit Cinderella, isn't it? Going to the ball in a gown."
My eyes burn as my throat constricts, and I chew the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to cry. But Sara's words land a little too close to home. I'm not Cinderella because she got her prince, and I will leave this event tonight with no one.
"Mila?" Sorin's hand is on my arm. "What is it?"
"I'm fine."
"Oh, honey, you're not fine," she purrs, resting her hands on my biceps. I see the regret in her eyes like she knows she shouldn’t have said that, but once words are out, they can't be taken back.
"I said I'm fine," I say again, more calmly, but my voice cracks as tears well up. I can't blink them back, but I'm not letting myself give in to the well of emotion.
