38. Konstantin
KONSTANTIN
Life after the death of Mathew Vasiliev and his brothers takes on a completely different light. Within days of Rose waking up, all hints of the Vasiliev brothers have been wiped from the city.
Their businesses have been dismantled and distributed between people under my employ, their buildings and homes have all been demolished, and any talk of them that isn't brought up by Rose or her family is strictly forbidden.
It's the least I can do and yet it's not enough.
Deep down, I don't think it will ever be enough.
The scars from the Vasilievs run deep through Rose and her family, and there's nothing I can do to remove that pain or fully soothe her.
All I can do is support her and make sure she wants for absolutely nothing. Therapy seems to help.
Both Rose and her sister settle on therapists and start seeing them daily; I don't pry but at the end of each day, Rose tells me that the sessions are going well.
She has a lot to work through, but as long as she has space to do that, I'm confident she will make a full recovery.
The war with the Italians fizzles out now that the Vasilievs aren't stoking the flames with their lies and ploys, including the sneaking of underage girls into my businesses.
After the discovery of Beatie, I closed down every single club and had every dancer and employee thoroughly double-checked before they were allowed to reopen.
Any underage employees were cared for and sent back to their families, and if that wasn't an option, then Ethan took them under his wing with a focus to get them back into education and into a life suitable for them.
And yet all of it—the apologies and begging from the Italians, the end of blood spilling in the streets, the demise of the Vasiliev family, and the rise of people crawling out of the woodwork to praise my success in the face of such a twisted scheme to drag me down, means nothing in the face of Rose.
Two weeks after she wakes up in my medical facility, she stands several feet away over the grave of her father with her head in her hands and tears soaking into the tissues she desperately clutches in her fist.
Beatie stands next to her, clinging to her arm and sniffling as she fights a losing battle against her own tears.
I had Maxim buried in the Belyaev plot in a spot previously held for me. It felt right, given that he's Rose's father.
Here, he can rest and be watched over by all the souls I lost to the war with the Italians.
It breaks my heart that behind me, thirty-seven fresh plots have been dug into the cemetery and each one holds a man whose family is now my responsibility.
None hurt as much as this though.
Every fiber of my being aches to close the gap and draw Rose into my arms to soothe her, but it won't help.
Nothing I can say or do will ease the news that her father was shot and killed, and left to rot in some building.
I told Rose we couldn't determine a time of death to keep the truth muddied.
Telling her that Maxim was murdered in response to Daniil being killed didn't seem like it would help, and Rose was hurting enough.
"Is it… terrible of me," says a small voice from my elbow. "That I don't grieve for him as much as my daughters do?"
Rose's mother, Anastasia, stands at my side with her hand looped around my forearm.
Her gentle voice draws me from my thoughts and I glance down with a small smile.
"I do not think it is terrible," I reply. "The things he put you through? I can only imagine the stress you felt in your years with him before you had your girls."
"He always told me he would change. After Rose was born, I believed him. By the time Beatie was born, I knew he was full of shit."
My eyes widen ever so slightly at such crass language from such a gentle woman and my smile grows. "It must have been extremely difficult for you."
"I regret many things." She shakes her head slightly, and the black hat nestled on top of her gray curls shimmies back and forth.
"If I had left him, my girls would not have suffered.
But he was a persuasive man and time and time again, I felt sorry for him.
If I had been stronger, my girls wouldn't be what they are now. "
I turn to face her and place my hand over hers.
"I do not think you should blame yourself.
After all, Rose and Beatie got their strength from somewhere and in my opinion, it was not from him.
I do not know how things might have changed had you left.
That future is impossible to know. But I do know that the people he ended up in debt with would not have cared that he was estranged from his family.
I fear they would have come for you all regardless. "
Anastasia squints up and smiles at me. "You have a way with words."
"So I've been told."
"When Maxim told me what was being asked of Rose, I was terrified.
All I could imagine was her marrying some brute and I feared it would be the end of my daughter.
" Anastasia draws in a shuddering breath.
"I see now that you are in fact, an angel sent to help my daughter.
I can't thank you enough for taking care of her. "
"I do not think I deserve that kind of credit. Rose is very capable of taking care of herself."
"Nonsense." Anastasia waves me off with her other hand.
"I know my daughter. With you she has grown and changed into the woman I see now, and I know I could never have brought that strength out of her.
She could only become what she is with you at her side.
Had it been anyone else, we would not all be standing here.
You, Konstantin, are a good man. Unlike my husband.
" Her gaze drifts back to her daughters. "Just promise me one thing."
"Anything."
"Don't make her feel sorry for you."
I follow her gaze to Rose who now has her arms wrapped tightly around her sister. "I will do everything in my power to ensure that Rose never feels sorry ever again."
"Thank you." She leans into me with a soft sigh. "I'm old, Konstantin. I don't have much more in me, but I think I can rest easy knowing my daughter is in good hands. You will take care of them both, won't you?"
"I will," I assure her. "Are you certain you want to leave both your daughters with someone like me?"
Anastasia looks back at me. "They called you the devil, didn't they? When you first appeared here and swept through the markets like wildfire."
"The devil's stallion. I think it was meant as an insult. That I would burn hot and fast and then die out, leaving nothing left."
"Ego makes men fools in this life. I, for one, am proud that you are my son-in-law. Devil or not, you saved my daughter's life. For that, I will be forever grateful."
Anastasia's words stay with me for the rest of the visit.
Eventually, Rose and Beatie lay down some flowers and pull themselves away from their father's grave, remaining arm in arm all the way back to the estate.
I keep my distance as much as it pains me, not wanting to overstep.
Back at the manor, Rose takes her mom and sister upstairs while I retreat to the kitchen, where Ethan and Calvin are deep in animated conversation.
"You've got to be kidding me," Ethan snorts, leaning back in his seat. "Look, there's no way on earth you can think he even has a chance at winning! Look at his scores last year. He's being dragged by the team. He's a liability."
"Where you see liability," Calvin remarks, "I see an underdog. Listen, if I'm wrong, which I know for sure I'm not, then at most you stand to lose like five stacks. That's nothing."
"It is when it's my stacks!"
An affectionate smile pulls across my mouth as I listen to them chatter, and they both throw me a nod as I pass to the fridge.
I nearly lost both of them, so being able to listen to them argue over a sport I have no interest in is something I will never take for granted ever again.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I linger in the kitchen just long enough to watch the heated discussion dissolve into a wrestling match where both men play up their injuries, then I retreat and head upstairs to my bedroom.
What a long day.
Hell, it's been a long month.
Kicking the door closed with one foot, I unknot the tie around my throat and slide it from my shirt while walking across the room to my dresser.
The world is settling. Rose and her family are healing.
My friends are recovering.
The war is over.
Those bastard brothers are dead.
It's been one hell of a whirlwind and I am tired.
"Kon?" A soft knock of knuckles against the door draws me away from tiredly studying the neatly folded shirts in my dresser.
I turn around just as Rose walks into the room with a small, nervous smile on her beautiful face.
She's still dressed in black from the funeral, but there's more color in her cheeks underneath her red-rimmed eyes.
"Rose. You do not have to knock, you know."
Ever since she woke up, I've let her sleep alone out of respect for her trauma and her healing. Despite my feelings for her, there's no world in which I would overstep or use our marriage to force myself into her space.
"I know. It just felt…" Her hands come together at her waist. "Can I talk to you?"
"You do not have to request that of me either," I say softly. "I will always listen."
Rose gently rolls her eyes. "Can you stop being so nice for like, five seconds?"
"Does it bother you?"
Her shoulders lift. "No. It doesn't. Uhm…" She threads her fingers into one another and locks eyes with me. Despite the sadness lingering there, warmth rises up and it makes my heart ache once more with how I desperately desire to comfort her.
"It was a nice service that you put together. Thank you. Better than he deserved."
"He was your father." I walk toward her with my bottled water in hand. "He will be well cared for there."
"I know. Thank you. It was really sweet what you did. What you've done. Caring for me, despite everything. Caring for Beatie after what she did. Even for my mom. It's… alarming how nice you're being."