Chapter 33
33
Fiona
Two Months Later
S oft music plays in the background, and the chatter of the lunchtime crowd fills the air. I step in front of the hostess and then glance past her.
She chirps, "Can I help you?"
I spot Skylar, and my stomach twists with nerves and wistfulness. I've missed my boss and friend. I shake my head, acknowledging, "My friend's already seated. I see her."
"Great." She motions for me to go through.
I stroll through the restaurant, remembering the last time I saw Skylar, getting more anxious.
She sees me and rises, waving at me.
I get to the table, lean in to hug her, then freeze. My heart pounds harder.
She winces. "We just had a weird moment, didn't we?"
"Yeah."
She holds out her arms. " Give me a hug."
"Okay," I say, relieved.
We wrap our arms around one another.
She retreats, tilting her head, and studies me.
My anxiety reappears. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
She gushes, "You've got that pregnancy glow."
I roll my eyes, groaning.
Mom and Dante can't keep their mouths shut. They told everybody before Kirill and I could tell anyone. Sean and Zara called us before we got back to Chicago. And they couldn't keep their mouths shut and told Valentina and Brax.
But it's okay. Kirill and I are so excited, being annoyed with anyone is hard. I'm glad my family's happy for us.
"Here, sit," Skylar orders, pulling out a chair.
I obey.
She takes her seat, asking, "So how've you been?"
"I'm good," I say, fighting the little bit of anger I feel toward her. I don't want to be mad at her, but the more time passed, the worse it got.
She sighs. "I'm sorry it's been so long."
"Yeah, me too," I say, a little harsher than I meant for it to come out, but I don't apologize.
She gathers her thoughts, then adds, "I didn't mean to not speak with you. I just didn't know what to do. Adrian was so upset."
"Yeah, I understand that," I acknowledge, still feeling bad that Adrian's sister went through what she did. But again, it's not Kirill's fault, so I'm conflicted on how they handled the situation.
She offers, "I've hated not having you at work with us. "
Once again, my response is harsher than I want it to be. "Yeah, I've really missed it too. I wish you wouldn't have tossed me aside because of who I love."
Guilt washes over her expression. "You know I didn't want to, Fiona."
"But you did," I accuse.
She nods. "I know. And you have a right to be upset. I hope you understand the position I was in."
I release an anxious breath and admit, "I do, but my husband is not his father or any of the people Adrian knew. It's not fair to blame him."
She takes a sip of water and then nods. "I know. Adrian and I have had many conversations, and I really am sorry. I've never been in that situation. You know how he is about his sister's kidnapping and death."
I don't say anything. I don't want to talk about it. It reminds me of my mom and dad's situation. And I won't discuss that with Skylar or anyone unless it's my husband. And that's only if I need to.
She clears her throat, hope lighting her eyes. "So, I'm hoping you want to come back?"
The hairs on my arms rise. I blurt out, "I'm allowed to?"
"Yes."
"Why? What's changed?"
She hesitates, then admits, "Your mom spoke with Adrian. He's still coming to terms with this, but what she said made him reconsider some things. And you know he's stubborn, so I'm not saying he's one hundred percent there yet, but he's agreed that it's okay for you to come back to the office."
Another mix of emotions hits me. On one hand, I would love to go back and work for Skylar. I miss her. I miss Blue and everything I used to do for the company. Heck, I even miss the annoying interns .
But things have changed. I've had too much time to sit alone without her influence and think about what I want. And I have a husband encouraging me to trust my talent and take my future into my own hands.
So I square my shoulders and lift my chin. In the nicest voice possible, I reply, "I appreciate the offer. I'm glad Adrian is coming to terms with my marriage and who Kirill really is, but I can't come back to work for you."
Skylar's face falls. "I'm sorry. Fiona, really. I never meant for this to go on as long as it did...or at all."
I nod. "I believe you. And I know you were in a crappy position. So I'm sorry for that too. But I'm not okay with anyone just tolerating my husband."
She sighs. "It's just going to take some time. But I know Adrian. He'll get there. I can see the wheels turning in his head."
"I'm sure you can. But it's not going to work for me," I declare.
She furrows her forehead. "Are you sure?"
My stomach flips. I hesitate, but then Kirill's voice pops into my mind.
There's no time like the present.
I find my courage and announce, "Yes. I also had a lot of time to think while I was gone. And I don't want you to hear this from anyone else, but I have four sketchbooks full of designs. And honestly... Well, Kirill's been telling me I should start my own line." My pulse pounds between my ears.
She arches her eyebrows. "Oh?"
I nod. "Yes. And I don't want us to be enemies."
She tilts her head and softly smiles, claiming, "We're never going to be enemies, Fiona. "
"No?" I question, too familiar with how this business is between competitors.
She reaches over and grabs my hand. "Absolutely not. You've been like a daughter to me. You helped my company grow more than anyone. I'll always be grateful. And if this is what you want, then I'll be in the front row, cheering you on."
Hope and happiness fill me. "You will?"
She jerks her head back. "Of course I will. Did you honestly think I wouldn't support you?"
I shrug. "I don't know what to think, Skylar. I always assumed if I did my own thing, I would be competing against you, and there would be issues."
"Well, I didn't give you a lot of choices over the last few months, did I?" she asks, falling on the sword.
I stay quiet.
She adds, "Fiona, if this is what you want, go for it. Honestly. You've worked hard, and you're talented. Just make sure I have that first-row seat at the show, okay?"
I release more anxiety and smile. "Thank you. I appreciate your kindness and support."
She leans closer. "But if you ever decide you want to come back, I'll kick out whoever is in your office."
I laugh. "Who's in it now?"
"No one, but Blue said if you didn't come back, she's stealing it."
"Aww. How's she doing? I miss her," I admit.
"She's good. She misses you too. And that's another thing Adrian and I messed up."
"What's that?" I question .
"Our actions pushed away the best mentor we ever had for Blue," she declares.
I wave my hand in front of my face. "No way, you're the best mentor for her."
She scoffs. "I don't think so. Think about you and your mom. You didn't want to listen to her when you were Blue's age, did you?"
It doesn't take me long to answer that question. "No, I did not."
Skylar laughs. "She'll figure it out, though." Her face falls. "But we do all miss you, Fiona."
"I miss you all too."
For the rest of the lunch, we talk about other things in our lives, like old times. We set another date to have lunch in a few weeks.
When I get home, Kirill's waiting.
I announce, "The elevator just moved really fast!"
He looks angry. He steps forward, kisses me, then relays, "It was all part of Ulrich's plan. They slowed it down to give time for whoever they sent into the house to get out before we got up here. But don't worry. It's taken care of now."
Relief and rage fill me. The memory of being restrained to the guillotine pops into my head.
He asks, "How did it go?"
I beam. "It was good. Skylar offered me my job back."
He freezes, arching his eyebrows. After a brief hesitation, he asks, "And what did you tell her?"
I wait a moment, gathering my thoughts. He doesn't know what I've decided to do, so I stare at him, wanting to see his reaction, and declare, "I told her thank you, but no thank you. Then I told her I'm going to be her competitor. "
Kirill's eyes light up, but he's cautious. "You did?"
I grin. "I did."
"What'd she say?"
"She was the Skylar that I've always known. She told me she wants front-row seats at my first fashion show."
"Oh, that's great, Fiona," he says, hugging me. Then he leans back. There's excitement in his voice when he blurts, "Wait. So you're going to do it? You're starting your own fashion line?"
Butterflies fill my stomach. I reply, "I guess so. You still think I should, right?"
He scoffs. "Of course you should. Remember, you're the talented one in this relationship, not me."
I roll my eyes. "Whatever." I glance at his outfit, teasing, "But you did dress yourself really well today."
He puffs his chest out. "I am getting pretty good, aren't I?"
I laugh. It's a running joke between us, but he's never had any issues as far as I'm concerned.
He asks, "So, what can I help you with so you can get started?"
I bite on my lip and tilt my head.
"I need you to find a top logo designer for me."
"Okay. I can do that," he says.
I add, "I'm naming it O'Malley-Petrov Designs. I think I want something with an O and P for the logo."
Her freezes. "Petrov?"
I nod. "Yep."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asks, concerned .
I smile and rise on my tiptoes. I kiss him, then answer, "Yes. Petrov is our children's namesake. We aren't going to run from it. We'll show the world who we are so our children don't carry the burden of the past."
He stares at me.
I tease, "Our kids are O'Malley's too, so we can't forget that." I wink.
He chuckles.
"Glad you're on board," I declare.
He nods, studying me further.
"What?"
He slides his hand on my cheek and tilts my face up. He leans over it and says, "This is why your father knew you were meant to be queen."
"I'm not following," I admit.
"You're one of a kind, Mrs. Petrov."
I arch my eyebrows. "And I'm still not following."
He grins. "It's okay, little bird. I understand it."
I pout. "You're not going to fill me in?"
Mischief brightens his gaze. He slides his finger across the top of my dress, suggesting, "It might take all day."
My core lights on fire. I take a deep breath and meet his eyes, taunting, "My schedule is clear."
He orders, "Then go into the bedroom and take this off. I'll do my best to make sure you understand...even if it takes us until morning."