Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
FIONA
My body aches in the best way. I should hate it: the bruised hips, the faint burn in my thighs, the way my lips still feel swollen from his mouth.
But I don’t. I like it. I like all of it.
I reach for him without thinking, my arm sliding across the sheets like he’s mine to hold.
But he isn’t there. And the warmth he left behind feels cold at the same time.
Sitting up, I glance at the clock. Seven. On a Saturday. There’s no meeting this early, is there? So where the hell did he go?
I tug on leggings and a hoodie and make my way to the bathroom, not bothering to look in the mirror. I already know what I’ll see. The flush on my neck. The guilt in my eyes.
We keep doing this dance. His hands on me, his voice in my ear, the way he looks at me like I’m some kind of prize he can’t decide if he wants to cherish or ruin. Then he disappears, acting like none of it meant a thing.
By the time I make it downstairs, Galya is already setting out breakfast, the warm smell of eggs and buttery pastries filling the kitchen.
“Good morning, moya dorogaya,” she says warmly.
“Morning. I’m going to take my tea and a danish out back. I just want some air.”
She doesn’t ask questions, just hands me a to-go cup and folds napkins around the danish like she’s packing me off for school. One of Aleksei’s men appears and sets my sneakers beside me without being asked. Having these people do everything for me is strange, but I can’t say it’s entirely awful.
“Thanks. Do you know where Aleksei went?”
He shrugs. “He left early. Didn’t say.”
Of course he didn’t.
I pretend it doesn’t bother me, that my stomach didn’t just cave in a little.
Instead, I head around the back of the house, moving past the tall hedges toward the garden that stretches beyond the pool.
I follow the path slowly, chewing my danish while the tea burns a warm line down my throat with every swallow.
What the hell are we even doing? This thing between us, it’s not built to last. I’m a prosecutor. He’s…Aleksei. And even if I wanted to pretend that we exist outside that, the world wouldn’t let us. Sooner or later, someone will find out.
Then what? What would I even say? That I married a man who made my knees shake and my morals blur?
I toss the empty cup and napkin into the trash can by the bench and turn to head back. But when I do, he’s standing right in front of me, like I somehow wished him here.
For a second, I’m sure I’m imagining it: him shirtless, sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair damp and clinging to his forehead as if he ran miles just to get to me.
But when he takes a step forward, I know he’s real.
“Can we talk?” I ask, releasing an exhausted sigh.
He nods. “Sure.”
I start heading along the edge of the pool, and he falls into step beside me. Glancing at him, I attempt to find the right words while he watches silently.
“Look, I’ve had some time to think, and…”
“Yes?”
Just say it. He probably feels the exact same way, or he wouldn’t be ignoring you the way he has been.
“Whatever this is between us…it’s not going to work.”
He stops, forcing me to face him.
“Is that so?” His mouth quirks like this is some challenge.
“That’s right. I know you know it too. We’re two completely different people.
And I know for you, this whole thing started as some twisted way to screw with me, and maybe it backfired.
Or maybe it didn’t. I don’t know.” I laugh, drained from it all.
“But I can’t do this anymore, Aleksei. If you want to punish my parents, go ahead.
They’ll survive. I’ll survive. But I won’t stay married to someone who can’t decide if he wants me or not. ”
His features don’t so much as twitch, but something flares behind his eyes.
“I’m serious.” I take a step toward him, my hand closing around his forearm.
He’s warm. Solid. Real in a way that makes me feel alive. And it makes the next words hurt even more.
“If all of this was just about power, then fine. You win. But just let me go. Divorce me.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Please, Aleksei. I’m not built for this.”
He tilts his head, that maddening smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “I like it when you beg.”
God. That smugness. I want to slap it off his face. Or kiss him, which is worse.
“I’m not joking,” I snap. “You know this isn’t working. Don’t you want to be with someone who actually makes you happy? Someone you want to wake up next to?”
He doesn’t say anything, and that silence tears something open in me.
I swallow past the sharp ache rising in my throat. “Because that’s not going to be me.”
It nearly kills me to say that out loud. But it’s the truth. It has to be.
I try to soften it. “Maybe we can be friends.”
“Friends?” he repeats, as if I’ve just told him I want to become a nun.
“Why not?” I let out a weak, humorless laugh. “We’re practically family anyway. Emilia’s like a sister to me. Konstantin is your brother. This could work. We don’t have to hate each other. We just don’t have what it takes to make whatever this is work.”
He tilts his head. “Marriage.”
“What?”
“This thing between us,” he says. “It is a marriage.”
“It’s really not.”
“Oh, I disagree.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Most people—normal people—they meet, date for a while, fall in love. Then one of them gets down on one knee and asks the other to spend forever with them. You know what I got? A threat. A contract. A goddamn ultimatum. So no, this is anything but a marriage.”
His hand comes up to my cheek, and the moment his palm touches my skin, it throws me completely off-balance. Because the look in his eyes is so raw and unguarded, it breaks right through me.
“Ya ne mogu zhit bez tebya,” he says, the words slipping out in a low, rough murmur that carries too much meaning for me to pretend I didn’t hear it.
“What?” My heart hammers.
His gaze grows heavy, almost aching, as his fingers slide into my hair, guiding me closer with a tenderness that makes it hard to ignore. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
But the softness in his face doesn’t match the words, and I’m almost sure that isn’t what he said. I try to say the words to myself over and over so I can look them up later, but I know I’ll forget.
“I’m not joking,” I whisper, even though every part of me leans toward him instead of away.
“Neither am I.” His voice deepens with something so honest and painfully real that it settles in my chest and leaves me struggling to remember why I ever thought pulling away was possible.
No. Do not get sucked back into this. It’s what happens every time.
“I’m done. Okay? I said what I said, and that’s it. I’m not letting you turn this into something else. I’m going inside. Have a good day.”
I step back, but the edge of my sneaker clips the stone, my foot twisting out from under me before I even understand what’s happening. I gasp, arms shooting out for balance.
Then I hit the water. The warmth crashes over my head and steals the breath from my lungs. The moment I break the surface, I register a loud splash behind me.
“Fiona!”
I push the hair out of my face, gasping just as Aleksei surfaces beside me.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, still gathering air, and his grip tightens as the water moves around us in gentle waves.
“If you wanted to escape me that badly, you just had to say so. Jumping in is a bit too extreme, Ms. Prosecutor.”
“What can I say? When it comes to you, I’m prone to making bad decisions.”
“I like being your bad decision.”
Before I can react, he pins me against the side of the pool, his body pressing into mine, arms planted on either side of me, caging me in.
The water ripples around us, but everything inside me is still and electric all at once, like the entire world has narrowed to the heat of him, the closeness, the way he fits against me as if he was always meant to be here.
His eyes darken as they search mine, and even though we’re dripping wet, it’s as though I’m burning from the inside out.
“You can’t say things like that to me.” My fingers brush the edge of his jaw.
Droplets cling to his skin and slide down the strong lines of his face, and watching them makes something twist deep inside me.
“Why not?” His thumb traces over my bottom lip with a slow, careful sweep that sets every nerve in my body on edge.
“Because…” I swallow hard. “Because I’ll start to think you actually care about me.”
His expression shifts in an instant, something sharp flickering through his eyes. A mix of pain, disbelief, and a quiet anger that seems aimed entirely at himself.
“You think I don’t care?” The question comes out strained, as if it drags something painful with it.
I nod, but it’s small, hesitant, barely a movement at all. He exhales, and the sound that breaks from him feels torn from somewhere deep inside, too vulnerable for a man like him to disguise. Then he lets out a laugh, but it’s hollow, the kind that carries nothing but exhaustion and defeat.
“You’re all I think about,” he says quietly. “All goddamn day and night.”
His hands rise to cradle my face, his thumbs pressing gently to my cheeks as if trying to ground himself in the feeling of me.
“You’ve become the center of my world, Fiona.”
What?
My heartbeats stumble in my chest.
He leans in until his forehead rests against mine, like he needs the connection just to stay upright. And when his eyes open to meet mine again, the truth in them is so clear, it sends a shiver through me.
“I don’t know what to do with that,” he admits on a sigh, the words almost trembling. “You don’t understand. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I wasn’t allowed to.”
The words crack something inside me. He’s never looked more human than he does right now.
“But you…” he continues. “You’re different. I did not want you to be. I fought it. I tried to control it, control you, but I couldn’t. I can’t. And I accept it now.”