Joy
Morning sunlight streams through the drapes.
I blink open an eye. I feel air on my body where I’m not supposed to feel it. I sit up, realizing I’m still naked from the night before.
Valerian left me asleep in his room after he fucked me.
God, I’m so sore. And still waiting for him to get back in here so we can go again.
I kick away the sheets draped around my legs.
Weird.
He must have put them over me. I remember falling asleep butt naked on top of his bed. Not inside of it.
I fold one of the sheets around me like a towel and rise from the four-posted bed. Valerian’s never left me alone in his room before. This is the perfect time to stick my nose into his life and find out some things he won’t tell me. You can tell a lot about a person based on their bedroom.
God, it smells just like him. His cologne is everywhere. I can even smell it on my skin.
I walk over to his drawers. This is where he keeps the handcuffs. I find a selection of luxury watches on top of the drawers. I hitch my eyebrow, picking them up, measuring the weight of each. Solid gold.
I open the top drawer, holding my breath. This is when I discover how much he’s into BDSM…
I expect to see lots of different chains and whips.
To my surprise, I see a photo frame.
I frown, taking it out of the drawer. It’s not even dusty, which tells me he must look at it a lot.
Can’t he put it up somewhere and look at it that way?
I hold my breath for a different reason as I flip the frame around. I know who this picture is gonna be of…
I trace my finger over the edges. Much to my surprise, this isn’t Igor’s mom.
It’s a man. And this photograph looks like it’s been pulled right out of a time capsule. It’s old. The bleached, washed-out color suggests this picture was taken a long time ago.
The man is younger than Valerian is today. Maybe this is his father? They have similar appearances. I see now where Valerian gets his cheekbones from.
I turn the frame back over, removing the image. There’s some writing on the back but it’s all in Russian. Sokolov is the only word I recognize.
This had to be his father.
Hearing footsteps, I slot the image back into the frame and shut the drawer.
I comb a hand through my hair just as the door opens, acting casual.
Valerian comes to a halt in the doorway. He barely even fits in it. He’s that big.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding some clothes to wear since you ripped my dress last night.”
“You don’t need to wear clothes around me, printsessa.” He winks. “But around everyone else, I need you to.”
I quirk an eyebrow up at him. “You have a problem with your guards seeing me naked?”
Valerian doesn’t answer that question. “Get dressed. I made you breakfast.”
I blink, keeping the sheet around my body. “You made breakfast? Why?”
“I’m not sure.” Valerian frowns to himself. “But that’s not the point. Come now before it goes cold.”
I fold my arms over the bedsheet, leaving his room. I stride across the hallway back to my own room, finding some clothes to change into. I’m walking into the closet, looking for something to wear when nausea hits me.
It came right out of nowhere.
I slap a hand over my mouth and retch. Fuck.
I sprint to the bathroom, the bedsheet forgotten about, and vomit right into the toilet.
After throwing up my guts in the toilet, I flush and lean against the wall, defeated, sweat dripping down my brow.
Holy shit. Great way to start the day.
The nauseous feeling disappears. But now I’m feeling sick for another reason. I never ever throw up. I was fine last night. In fact, I sobered up pretty quickly when Valerian dragged me into his room.
I frown. Could I be…?
No. There’s absolutely no way.
My period is two days late. But pregnancy isn’t the reason. The champagne was strong last night. Valerian even said so himself.
“Joy?” I hear him calling my name. I think he’s standing on the staircase. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah. Just a minute.”
I hear footsteps. They pound against the ground, getting closer. Fuck. He thinks I’m touching myself again.
“I’m just in the bathroom.”
“Doing what?”
“Um,” I choke. “Peeing.”
Talk about privacy.
“Still? I heard the toilet flush” He flies through the door—which was already half open to begin with and looks at me.
I’m fully naked, mind.
It was in an emergency to get in here that I forgot about the bedsheet.
Gods, I can’t even begin to imagine what I look like, slumped against the tiles, naked, and with vomit dripping from my mouth.
“Please,” I gasp. “Go away.”
Valerian stares into my eyes. Lines appear between his brow. He almost looks… concerned. “It was definitely a rough night for you last night.”
In more ways than one…
“Come downstairs. There’s fresh orange juice and coffee. That should make you feel better.”
“Thanks.” I pull away from the wall, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Here.” He takes one last look at me. “I’ll fetch you some clothes.”
I finish up in the bathroom when he disappears. Why is he being so nice?
Valerian returns a few minutes later with a cashmere set. He hands the pants and sweater over, his hands brushing softly against mine. “I’ll see you downstairs.” His eyes linger.
I swallow the lump in my throat, whispering: “Thanks.”
He seems so far away from the person he was two nights ago.
It’s not possible for a person to be this different. We all have different sides of ourselves. Sure. But a man capable of strangling victims with his bare hands shouldn’t be able to make me feel like he cares.
It’s all fabricated. That’s the only explanation. I saw the way Valerian walked around the lobby last night, making each person feel like an individual.
In his eyes, they’re all the same.
One of his many strengths is getting people right where he wants them.
He’s good at making you feel special… Really fucking special.
Every woman he’s ever been with has probably felt the same way.
And the only woman who ever meant anything to him, is the one he can’t have. Because she died somehow.
I finish dressing and head into the dining room.
I don’t sit so far away from him this time. He sits at the head of the table. I pull up a chair to his left, digging into breakfast.
The nausea crashes over me again as soon as I get started. Boiled eggs. Watermelon. Even the coffee. Yuck. I can’t fucking stand any of it.
I sit back down with my orange juice, taking small sips, fighting the bile that wants to rise into my throat.
Why am I so repulsed by everything?
“Are you okay?” Those lines appear between Valerian’s eyebrows again as he takes stock of my face. “You look unwell.”
“Too much champagne,” I grimace, sticking my fork into a slice of pineapple. I’m craving the entire bowl. But I don’t want to go overboard and vomit again.
Valerian keeps looking at me. “Yeah. It must be. Take it easy today.”
I cut up the pineapple, scoffing. “I’ve been doing that every day.”
“Including last night?” Valerian sticks his eyebrow up at me.
I concentrate on the pineapple before I drive myself crazy from looking at his face. There’s definitely something different about him. I can’t put my finger on what.
“How’s Igor?”
“Still a pain in my ass,” grumbles Valerian. The metal spoon clangs against the side of the cup as he mixes his coffee. “Unfortunately, we’re not much closer to finding out who these other men are, or who they’re working for.”
“You said they were working for Igor.”
“Correct,” says Valerian. “But Igor doesn’t have any money. Assassins aren’t cheap. Even shit ones like Lucas cost a fortune.” Valerian taps the spoon on the side of the cup. He takes a long sip of coffee.
I’m mesmerized by the way his lips curl around the edge. “Maybe he framed me after all.”
“He didn’t. I burned all the files.”
“Thanks.”
He sets his coffee back down. “I also took care of your little stunt last night with the camera crew.”
I click my teeth. This isn’t what I want to hear. Mom and Lila deserve to know where I really am…
Even if I’m not quite ready to pack my bags and leave yet.
“I have to say—I was impressed. You were thinking outside of the box.”
That’s because I’m always trying to stay out of the box.
“What happened to the rest of your family?”
“The Bratva is my family.”
“No, I mean, your actual family. Your parents.” I bite into another slice of pineapple. “Are they still alive?”
Valerian shuffles in his seat, straightening up. “Why do you want to know this?”
“Because I want to know who I married.”
Valerian hooks his finger around the cup, drinking more coffee. He keeps it in his hands as he speaks. “Truthfully, I don’t know if they’re still alive.”
“What?”
“I never knew my mother. My father always had… several women on the go at once.”
“Your mother left?”
Valerian nods. “Yeah. Not like I blame her. She gave birth and wanted nothing to do with me. I’ve always been the spitting image of my father.”
“And what about your father? Where is he now?”
Valerian looks at me skeptically, like he knows I saw the photograph. “Long gone.” He takes a sip of coffee, swirling the rest around. “He had his problems, stealing other men’s wives and what not. But he was innocent.” Valerian looks at me, sighing.
“He was sent to prison?”
“For a murder he didn’t commit. He was sent away to a small village on the border of the arctic circle to serve time in the freezing cold. And die.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” agrees Valerian, sipping more coffee. “It was.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way—how do you know he was innocent?”
“Because he was framed.” I can hear the anger creeping into his voice. “He was a big politician. And I fucking hope he paid for what he did. With his death.”
“Didn’t you make him pay?”
“I couldn’t.” Valerian necks the rest of his coffee. “I was a boy. And I didn’t have any money to make anyone believe me.”
“Which is why you left…”
Valerian shrugs. “There wasn’t anything left for me in Russia. I needed to start over.”
I grab another slice of pineapple. He came over here to start over and do what? Strangle people to death when they don’t do what he says?