Chapter 37
IRIS
"You're offering me a drink?" he asks, raising an eyebrow with a slight smile, his hand still playing with my hair. "That's a first, you never want to drink with me."
"Special occasion," I say, slipping out of bed on shaky legs, wrapping the sheet around myself, my whole body sore and trembling.
I walk over to the small table where I left the bottle earlier, my hands shaking as I pick up both glasses, the one with the dissolved sedatives already waiting, looking innocent.
I grab both glasses and walk back to the bed, handing him the drugged one while I keep the clean one for myself, my heart pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
"What are we toasting to?" he asks, sitting up against the headboard, completely relaxed, his hair messy from my hands, scratches covering his entire torso, looking thoroughly used.
"To us," I say. "To whatever this is." He looks at me for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression, his eyes searching mine like he's looking for something, then he raises his glass.
"To us." We clink glasses, the sound seeming too loud in the quiet room, then he drinks deeply while I take a small sip of mine, watching him over the rim.
He makes a face immediately, his nose wrinkling. "This tastes off, did you get this from the hotel bar? It tastes like it's gone bad or something." My heart stops, my hands starting to shake. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know," he says, swirling the wine in his glass, looking at it suspiciously. "Tastes bitter, kind of metallic, like it's been sitting out too long or maybe the bottle was bad."
"We can get something else if you don't like it," I say quickly, my voice coming out too high, and panicked, reaching for his glass.
He pulls it away from my reach, shrugging.
"No, it's fine, I've had worse, I've drunk things that would kill most people.
" Then he drinks the rest of it in one long gulp, setting the empty glass on the nightstand, completely unaware of what he just consumed.
I sit there frozen, watching him, waiting for some sign that the drug is taking effect, my whole body tense.
Time crawls by with agonizing slowness, every minute feeling like an hour while I wait for the sedatives to kick in.
He pulls me closer against his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back. "I've been thinking about some changes at the estate."
"What kind of changes?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, watching his eyes for any sign of drowsiness.
"Your room," he says. "It's too dark, not enough windows.
I want to knock down the wall to the adjacent room, make it bigger, add floor-to-ceiling windows on the south side so you get natural light all day. "
"That sounds nice," I whisper. "And I'm thinking about getting a dog," he continues, his voice still clear, still alert. "Maybe two. Big ones, German Shepherds or Dobermans, trained for protection but good with families. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Having dogs around?"
"I would," I say softly. "They'd be yours," he says, his hand moving up to stroke my hair. "Your dogs, not mine. They'd sleep in your room, follow you everywhere, make sure you're never alone, never unsafe." My heart breaks a little more with every word.
"I've also been working on the security system," he says.
"I know you don't feel safe there, I know you think I'm the danger, but there are other threats.
I want you to have access to panic rooms on every floor, direct lines to my men, cameras you can control from your phone so you always know who's in the house. "
"Ilay—"
"Let me finish," he says gently. "I know I haven't made you feel safe.
I know I've been the thing you're afraid of.
But I want to change that. I want you to feel like the estate is your home, not your prison.
" I watch his eyes, hoping to see them growing heavy, but they're still focused on me, still clear.
"What else?" I ask, needing to keep him talking, needing to wait for the drug to work.
"The gardens," he says. "I want to redo the gardens for you.
Right now they're all just hedges and boring shit.
I want to plant your favorite flowers, whatever you want.
Roses? Peonies? You tell me and I'll have them planted everywhere. "
"I like lavender," I whisper. "Lavender," he repeats, smiling.
"Then we'll have fields of it. You can walk through it every morning, cut it for your room, whatever you want.
" He shifts slightly, adjusting me against him.
"And I've been thinking about us taking a trip.
Somewhere warm. Maybe Greece? The islands?
We could rent a villa on the water, just the two of us for two weeks. "
"That sounds perfect," I say, tears starting to blur my vision. "We could learn to scuba dive," he continues. "Or just lay on the beach all day. I've never done that, just laid on a beach doing nothing. Have you?"
"No," I say quietly. "Then we'll do it together," he says.
"Our first time doing something normal, something peaceful.
I want to give you normal things, Iris. I want to be the kind of man who takes you on beach vacations, not the kind who makes you afraid.
" I can't hold back the tears anymore, they stream down my face silently.
"Why are you crying?" he asks, his thumb wiping them away. "Did I say something wrong?"
"No," I whisper. "You said everything right. That's the problem." He looks confused but doesn't push it. "I've also been thinking about therapy." That makes me look up at him. "What?"
"Therapy," he repeats. "I know I have problems. I know I'm obsessive, possessive, violent. I know I need help. I was thinking about finding someone, a professional, someone who can help me be better for you."
"You'd do that?" I ask, my voice breaking.
"I'd do anything for you," he says simply.
"If therapy makes you feel safer, if it makes you want to stay, then I'll do it.
I'll do whatever it takes." I sob quietly against his chest, guilt eating me alive.
"Hey," he says softly. "Talk to me. What's wrong?
Why does everything I'm saying make you cry? "
"I'm just overwhelmed," I lie. "It's a lot."
"Good overwhelmed or bad overwhelmed?" he asks. "I don't know," I say honestly.
He's quiet for a moment, then says, "I've also been thinking about your family."
I tense. "What about them?"
"I hate them," he says bluntly. "I will never forgive them for what they did to me. Never."
"Ilay—"
"Let me finish," he says, his voice hardening.
"I've been generous letting them live this long.
But I've decided to give them one year. One year to relinquish all their territories to me, all their operations, everything.
They can keep their money, live quietly somewhere, but they're done in this world. " My heart sinks. "And if they don't?"
"Then I kill them," he says simply. "All of them. Your father, your brothers, everyone connected to the Miroslav name."
"That's not fair," I whisper. "Fair?" he laughs bitterly. "They kidnapped me five times as a child. They tried to kill me when I was fourteen. Your grandfather hunted me through the woods like an animal. And you want to talk about fair?"
"They're my family," I say, tears falling. “They made mistakes I know but please.”
"And you're mine," he says firmly. "That's what matters. You're asking me to forgive the unforgivable, Iris. I can't do that. I won't do that."
"Can't you just leave them alone?" I beg. "Just let them exist?"
"No," he says. "Either they give me everything and retire, or they die. Those are the only options. I'm being generous giving them a choice at all."
"That's not generous," I say quietly. "It is for me," he says. "Do you have any idea how much I want them dead? How much I want to make them suffer the way they made me suffer? But I'm offering them a way out for you. For you, Iris. That's the most I can do."
"What if I asked you to just leave them alone completely?" I ask.
"Then I'd say no," he says without hesitation. "That's the one thing I can't give you. Everything else, yes. Therapy, changes at the estate, trips, dogs, whatever you want. But not them. I will make their lives miserable until they give me what I want or until they're dead. That's not negotiable."
I close my eyes, fresh tears falling, knowing now with absolute certainty that I have to leave.
"I just need you to accept that," he continues. "Accept that your family and I will never be at peace. You can love them, you can miss them, but you can't have both of us in your life equally. You have to choose. And I need you to choose me."
"What if I can't?" I whisper.
"Then we have a problem," he says, his voice going cold. "Because I'm not letting you go. So you'll have to watch me destroy them, piece by piece, until there's nothing left."