Chapter Six
Nadia
It’s amazing how quickly an entirely different life can begin to feel like the only one you’ve ever known. I sit behind my desk in the reception area and let myself run back through the weeks I’ve spent with River.
Every morning starts with River grumbling that I’m making too much noise in the kitchen while I remind him that normal people don’t need three cups of coffee before speaking to another human being. Every evening ends with dinner together, and me spread across whatever surface he backs me into.
Somewhere in between, we spend our days at the tattoo shop stealing glances when we think the other isn’t looking and pretending that the wedding rings on our fingers are only part of an elaborate plan. I’m not pretending anymore. At least not to myself.
River has an uncanny way of anticipating what I need without making me feel weak for needing it.
He’s become my shadow, and I don’t want to shake him off.
If a client gets a little too familiar, River materializes beside me with a calm possessiveness that sends the message without him raising his voice.
That possessiveness does something to me. Some days, I don’t make it home before he has me pinned somewhere in the back of the shop with his hand over my mouth. I’m needy every time he’s around me, and sometimes the intensity of it scares me.
That’s the part that terrifies me almost as much as it comforts me: how fast I’ve needed him.
I glance down at the plain gold wedding band circling my finger before forcing myself to look away.
River never treats our marriage like a burden, but he's never suggested it should become anything more than what we agreed upon.
He’s naturally protective. Naturally attentive. Maybe this is simply who he is with everyone he loves. Maybe I’ve mistaken kindness for something deeper because I’ve never experienced kindness from a man before. It’s safer not to wonder or hope. Hope has a way of making the fall much harder.
Royal posted our wedding photos everywhere the day after the ceremony, which was the entire point. I know my father has seen them. He knows exactly where I am and who I belong to on paper. Yes, he hasn’t called, hasn’t written, hasn’t sent anyone.
That’s what the guys believe anyway.
There have been four calls to my cell from an unknown number. Always with the same long breath before the line goes dead. I know it’s him.
But I haven’t said a word about it because I know exactly what happens the second I do.
Four men who have already rearranged their entire lives around would go to war with a bratva boss, and if any of them don’t come back, it would be because of me.
I have spent my entire life deciding what information is safe to let out of my mouth.
It turns out I’m still doing it. I’ve just changed who I’m protecting.
???
Business is slower than usual this afternoon, leaving River and me alone in his tattoo room while he sketches a custom sleeve design across a digital tablet.
I’m curled into the chair beside his desk pretending to organize appointment confirmations.
However, I keep finding myself watching the small crease that forms between his eyebrows whenever he’s concentrating.
Without looking up, he smiles. “If you keep staring holes through me, I’m going to start charging.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“You were.” He doesn’t stop drawing. “You’ve been not-staring for twenty minutes.”
“I was observing.” I turn a confirmation slip over and pretend to read the back.
His grin widens. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“I’m learning from the best.” I nudge his boot with my foot under the desk.
“You’ve got a long way to go.”
“I disagree.”
“You usually do.” He sets the stylus down at last and leans back, chair creaking, arms folded across that broad chest in a way that makes it very difficult to keep observing anything productively. “It keeps my blood pressure interesting.”
“You love it.”
“I tolerate it.”
I laugh, and something in his face changes when I do—goes soft at the edges in a way I don’t think he knows about. He opens his mouth.
Someone knocks lightly against the open door. Royal strolls inside carrying his laptop beneath one arm and wearing the unmistakable expression of someone trying very hard not to smile too broadly.
“I’ve got good news.”
River straightens in his chair. “Should we be worried?”
“Only if you dislike good news.”
River raises an eyebrow and waits.
“Ivan Sorokin got married yesterday.”
I jolt and gasp at Royal. “What?”
“He announced it publicly this morning.”
Royal opens his laptop and turns the screen toward us, revealing photographs from an extravagant wedding reception somewhere overseas. Ivan stands beside a glamorous blond woman whose smile looks practiced enough for magazine covers.
“He...” My voice barely works. “He actually did it.”
“He found another bride.” Royal taps the screen, and the photos scroll. “Eleven days before his birthday. He didn’t run the clock down, which tells us he stopped believing your father could deliver you a while ago.
Relief crashes over me so suddenly I exhale loudly. It’s over. At least that part of it. The crushing deadline that forced River and me into marriage no longer exists.
Royal smiles warmly. “Now you two are officially free to annul the marriage whenever you’re ready.” He closes the laptop. “We’re not finished with Damir yet,” he says, his tone growing more serious. “But one problem has solved itself.”
“There’s been nothing from him,” I say quietly. It isn’t a lie. It’s just not the whole truth, and I hate how easily it comes out.
Royal picks up his laptop. “I don’t know why he’s gone radio silent, but I hope it’s because he’s letting you go.”
I nod and say nothing at all.
Royal leaves, and in the quiet left behind, I watch River’s face.
He hasn’t said a word. Not since Royal said the word annulment. He’s picked the stylus back up, and he’s looking at the tablet, but he isn’t drawing anything.
I keep waiting. I want him to say something so badly that my ribs ache with it. Anything. That he doesn’t want it. That there’s a reason to keep a marriage neither of us needs anymore.
He’s told me he’d never let me go. He’s said it with his hand around my throat and his mouth at my ear.
I’ve replayed it more times than I want to admit.
But men say things in the dark. My father said beautiful things to my mother in front of company.
I’ve spent my entire life learning not to believe words spoken only under certain conditions.
So I wait for him to say it in the daylight, with his clothes on, in a room with the lights on.
He doesn’t.
It’s the answer I need. I’m just another person he cares for who he happens to have mind-blowing sex with.
A few minutes later, his phone buzzes against the desk. He glances at it, slides it into his pocket, and grabs his truck keys from the counter.
“I need to run a quick errand.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He offers me a small smile. “I won’t be long.”
He pauses long enough to kiss me like his life depends on it. I’m breathing hard when he breaks it. Maybe it’s a goodbye. He heads toward the door, and I watch him leave with tears swimming in my eyes.
I’m going to have to learn to live without him. The bell above the front door jingles, and a strange emptiness settles over the shop. I leave his room a few minutes later and head back to my desk. Royal appears carrying a cup of coffee.
“My last appointment canceled.” He glances around. “I guess I’ll leave you and River to close as soon as he’s done.”
“Alright,” I say after a brief hesitation.
I should tell him River already left. But I need time to myself. To think about my plans when River and I go our separate ways.
“I’ll finish up the paperwork.”
“Sounds good.”
He checks something on his phone, then exits the building. The shop falls silent. In the quiet, I start to wonder what my father’s next move will be. He has always been patient when patience served him.
I’m sure he’ll be ready to swoop in when River and I part ways, and I’m helpless and alone in my apartment. If that’s his plan, then I only have one option. To run far away from here. Again. The thought hurts more than it should.
I’ve finally found a place that feels like home. I’ve finally found people who make me feel safe. And now, I’m preparing to disappear without even saying goodbye.
Tears sting my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to the empty shop.
The bell above the front door jingles. I freeze.
A tall man steps inside wearing an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, his shaved head gleaming under the shop lights. Twenty months and four thousand miles, and my father looks exactly the same.
Behind him comes a larger man I’ve never seen before, who calmly flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED and turns the deadbolt.
My father smiles at me. Every instinct screams exactly one thing.
Run.