Chapter 9 - Abram
The steering wheel is slick under my sweaty palms as I weave through traffic, my heart pounding. I should be at the office, but I cut my last meeting short.
Three days. It’s been three days since I’ve been trying to reach out to her, but I’ve received stone-cold silence. This morning, my calls didn’t go through. She’s blocked me.
What the hell happened? I need answers. Now. Thoughts of her consume me like an addict straight off the bottle. For the life of me, I can’t imagine what changed between us.
I screech to a halt outside her gallery just as the sun begins to set, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. There she is, locking up for the evening. I reached her just in time. My breath catches at the sight of her silhouetted against the fading light.
I'm out of the car before I can think twice. "Zara," I call, striding toward her.
She whirls around, keys jangling in her hand. For a split second, I see surprise flash across her face before it's replaced by cool indifference. "Abram. I wasn't expecting you."
Her tone is clipped, professional. It cuts through me like a knife. I want to pull her into my arms, to feel her warmth against me. Instead, I force myself to stop a few feet away, shoving my hands in my pockets.
"I needed to see you," I say, searching her eyes for any hint of the connection we shared. "Can we talk?"
Zara's gaze flickers away. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I was just heading home."
"Please," I implore, taking a step closer. "Just give me five minutes."
She hesitates, her fingers toying with the keys. I can see the internal struggle playing out across her beautiful features. Finally, she gives a curt nod.
"Five minutes," she concedes and opens the door to the gallery. I follow her inside, unable to wait a moment more to the bottom of things.
The words tumble out, urgent and desperate. "Why haven't you been answering my calls, Zara? My texts? I've been going out of my mind."
She turns to face me, arms crossed. My eyes search hers, seeking any flicker of emotion, any sign that she still cares. But Zara's face is a mask, her posture rigid as she stands before me.
"I thought I'd made it clear I didn't want to talk," she says, her voice tight with barely concealed anger.
"But why?" I press, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her. "What changed?"
Zara's composure cracks, her eyes flashing with hurt. "What changed? How about those tabloid pictures of you and Tatiana Petrova? Or the dinner you canceled on me to attend some fancy gala with her and your family and never thought to tell me the truth? What were you hiding? You said something came up, and now I realize that something is a woman you’re having an affair with."
Her words hit me out of nowhere. I hadn't realized she'd seen those photos, hadn't known how deeply they'd wounded her. Though the matter is serious, I have to admit her jealousy stirs a possessive thrill inside me. The fact that she cares enough to be jealous, to feel betrayed, can only mean she cares about me more than she lets on.
And it’s a good look on her.
"Zara, it's not what you think—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
"Save it, Abram," she snaps, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm not interested in your excuses. You lied to me, hid an entire part of your life from me. Why should I trust anything you say?"
The pain in her voice tears at my heart. I want to tell her everything, to lay bare all my secrets. But I can't. Not if I want to keep her safe.
"It's complicated," I say, knowing how weak it sounds even as the words leave my mouth.
I take a step closer to Zara, my heart pounding as I fight to keep my voice steady. "Tatiana is just a business associate, nothing more. The tabloids… they twist everything—create stories where there are none. That’s how they make money." My tone softens, but I keep it firm, willing her to believe me. "You have to trust me on this, Zara. What we have… it's real."
Her eyes narrow, searching my face for any sign of deception. The air between us crackles with tension, and I resist the urge to close the remaining distance and pull her into my arms.
"And your family?" Zara asks, accusatorily. "Why did you keep them hidden from me? If this is so real, why didn't you want me to know about such a huge part of your life? Why didn’t you ever talk about them or let me meet them?"
The question I've been dreading. If I allow her to meet them, they could slip up. She could learn we’re the Bratva, and that would be the end of any future I imagine with her. I swallow hard, my mind racing to find the right words. "My family, they're… complicated. Intense. I wanted to protect you from their pressure, their expectations." It's not entirely a lie, but the omission of the darker truth weighs heavily on my conscience.
Zara's gaze doesn't waver. "Protect me? Or protect yourself, Abram?" Her words cut deep, exposing the selfishness I've tried so hard to bury. "How can I trust you when you've kept so much from me? I’ve told you so much about myself, about my parents dying, my aunt and uncle’s cruelty, my terrible ex. You never even told me you had a sister, or four siblings for that matter. And this Tatiana? You’re parading her around in front of them. Business associate? Perhaps. But you could have introduced me as a friend if nothing more. I know nothing about your life. About you! "
I clench my fists, fighting against the urge to slam my lips against her, to spill everything, to lay my dangerous world at her feet. But I can't. I won't risk her safety, even if it means losing her trust. If she knows about the Bratva, the Bratva will soon know about her, and she would be at risk from all of our enemies.
"Zara, please," I whisper, my voice rough with emotion. "I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe that. I made an error in judgment, but I promise, there’s none other but you."
I reach for her hand, my fingers trembling slightly as they envelop hers. The warmth of her skin against mine sends a jolt through my body, reminding me of everything I stand to lose. "You're important to me, Zara. More than you know. I've never felt this way about anyone before."
Zara's face softens slightly, the hard lines of doubt melting away like snow in the first rays of spring. But I can still see the hesitation in her eyes, a lingering shadow of uncertainty that threatens to pull her away from me.
“Zara, please…it can’t end like this,” I say softly. “I swear I wouldn’t try so hard to make things right if you meant anything less to me. You have to understand, please.”
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Zara lets out a shaky breath. The tension in her shoulders eases ever so slightly, and I feel a glimmer of hope ignite in my chest.
"I want to trust you," she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion.
I can't resist any longer. I lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. But she doesn't. Our lips meet, and the kiss is gentle, tender.
"Zara," I breathe against her mouth, savoring the taste of her. "I swear, I'll make this right."
She doesn't respond with words, but her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in the sensation. It's like coming home and stepping off a cliff all at once—familiar and exhilarating.
As we stand there, bodies pressed together in the dimly lit gallery, there's so much I want to tell her, so much I need to keep hidden. But for now, this moment is enough. This silent promise of reconciliation speaks louder than words ever could.
My mind races, even as I lose myself in her embrace. How long can I keep her separate from my other life? How can I protect her from the dangers that lurk in the shadows of my world? But I push those thoughts aside, focusing only on the feel of her in my arms, the soft sigh that escapes her lips as we break apart for air.
"Abram," she murmurs, her eyes searching mine. "Where do we go from here?"
My mind spins as I gaze into Zara's questioning eyes. I know I need to make a bold move, to show her she's not just another conquest. An idea forms, dangerous yet thrilling.
"I want to show you who I truly am if you’ll let me," I say, my voice low and intense. "A private gala. No paparazzi, no prying eyes. Just us and a select few others."
Zara's brow furrows slightly. "A gala? But I thought…"
I cup her face gently, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. "I thought we were taking things slow, but I now know I took it too slow. I want you to see my world, Zara. The real one, not what the gossip rags print."
She looks up at me, eyes wide.
"You're the only one I'm seeing," I emphasize, my eyes locked on hers. "The only one I want to see. This gala… it's a chance for us to be together without hiding."
What I don’t tell her is that I’m happy to take her to this one, where no one can photograph her. Where my enemies can’t put a hit on her. Tatiana comes from a Bratva family herself. She has security. I can’t offer Zara the same, not without her asking questions; Questions I can’t answer without scaring her off.
I don't tell her about the security measures I'll put in place, the watchful eyes that will ensure no photos leak. I can't let her know the full extent of the danger, not yet. Perhaps in time, when she reaches a point where life without me seems unimaginable, that’s when I can tell her who I am. At that point, there won’t be a cause good enough to run.
"What do you say, moye serdtse ?" I ask, the endearment slipping out before I can stop it.
I hold my breath as Zara's eyes search mine. The silence stretches between us, taut with tension. Her hesitation is palpable, and for a moment, I fear I've pushed too far, too fast.
"I…" she starts, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is all so… different from what I'm used to, Abram."
I nod, understanding her trepidation. "I know, Zara. But I promise I'll be right there with you."
She bites her lower lip, a habit I've come to find adorable. I resist the urge to kiss her again, knowing she needs space to make this decision.
"Will there be… women like Tatiana there?" she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
"Perhaps," I speak, my hand moving to cup the nape of her neck. "Yet none matter but you."
Finally, almost imperceptibly, Zara nods.
"Okay," she breathes. "I'll go with you."