Chapter 47 Petyr
PETYR
The rest of the day, I can’t stop replaying Kira’s words in my head.
She meant well. I know she did. But what she said keeps sticking with me. The possibility of Sima running again.
I told her no fucking way. That I’m sure she’d never do it.
But the truth is, that certainty doesn’t come easy anymore. Not after everything that’s happened.
I spend the day in meetings, my mind elsewhere. Every order I give feels mechanical. The idea that Sima might still be scared enough to run—still looking over her shoulder even after all this time—it just won’t fucking let go.
She’s right to be uneasy. Our secrets nearly destroyed us both. I kept pushing, tried to force her to submit, and she kept pulling away, terrified of me.
By the time I understood, it was almost too late.
We survived it, somehow. Built something better out of the wreckage. But are we being completely honest with each other now?
I want to believe we are. I tell myself that. That we’ve cleared the air, healed our wounds.
And yet, there’s a shadow in her eyes sometimes when she looks at me, something I can’t read. And I know she’s been agonizing about what I said—me wanting an heir. It took me pushing for her to confess what was worrying her, and I don’t like that. I’d have preferred she just told me outright.
Then again, I’m doing the same thing now. Worrying without saying a word to her.
A year ago, it wouldn’t have struck me as wrong. Just normal. How I do things. I’m not a talker, never have been. No reason to change that.
But now, I don’t want to make the same mistakes. I don’t want Sima to think she’s just a piece of the machine, something useful only for what she can give me. To be scared and uneasy and not know how to approach me about it.
By the time I pull into the driveway, it’s already dark. The house glows warm from the windows, quiet except for the faint hum of Lilia’s sound machine. Her favorite lullaby.
I hang my coat, loosen my tie, and find Sima in the kitchen.
She looks up when she sees me. “Hey there, stranger.”
“Hi.” I peck her on the lips. “How’d it go today?”
“Good.” Her smile feels real. “Got through the whole day with only minimal napping. I hear they’re considering me for a medal.”
I suppress a smirk. “They should.”
It would be so easy to slip back into our banter and forget it. Let Kira’s words roll off for good. Ignore the knot of unease in my gut until it goes away on its own. Once, it’s exactly what I would have done.
But I know better than to follow old patterns now. My programming almost cost me everything twice.
I’m not going to let that happen again.
“We should talk,” I say. “Somewhere private.”
Sima frowns. “Did something happen?”
“No.”
Her confusion is plain on her face, but she puts away her empty glass and straightens. “What’s on your mind?”
“Not here.” I nod toward the foyer. “Upstairs.”
Something passes over her face, but she nods. “Okay.”
We head to the bedroom in silence. I shut the door behind us. Sima waits by the bed, her arms folded around herself. I can tell she’s already bracing herself.
I take a breath. It’s not going to be an easy conversation, I know that. But I can’t afford to fuck this up again.
This time, I’ll say the right things. The truth.
Because I owe it to her.
“Tell me something,” I say. “Why did you run from me?”
She looks up, startled. “Why are you asking me about that now?”
“Because I need to hear it,” I tell her. “I need to understand.”
It’s the truth. Sima explained it to me, but every time we’ve broached the subject, emotions were running high. She was exhausted, frayed at the edges by everything I put her through, and I can’t fucking blame her.
I thought I got it. That I knew what set it off. But if Kira’s words are getting to me now, even though everything is different, it means I didn’t get it at all.
Otherwise, I’ll always be waiting for her to bolt again. And then I’ll tighten the leash, put locks on the doors, make the same mistakes all over again. Our vicious cycle will never end.
Tonight, I want to break it for good.
Sima exhales. Her fingers pick at the duvet as she searches for the words. I can see her fighting the instinct to shut down. The same one that made her run in the first place.
“Because I was afraid,” she admits eventually.
“Afraid you’d hand me over to my father.
That you’d take my child away and use her to control me, like you said you would.
” Her voice trembles, but she doesn’t look away.
Instead, she faces me. Looks me straight in the eye. “I didn’t trust you. Not then.”
I stare at her, jaw tight. Her honesty cuts deeper than I expected, but I asked for this. I have to be man enough to take it.
“Would you do it again?” I ask. It’s the one question that really matters.
She shakes her head. “No. Of course not.”
“Because you trust me?”
She takes a moment before answering. “Because I know you better. I know who you are when you’re not trying to prove something. When you yelled at me at the penthouse, you weren’t being yourself, but I had no idea.” She offers a small smile and reaches for my hand. “Now, I do.”
I squeeze back. Her eyes glisten in the low light. “I didn’t mean for this,” I say. “But I haven’t been honest in the past, and I didn’t want to do that again. Not to you.”
She breathes in deeply. “Thank you. That means more than you can know.”
“Sima.” I search her gaze. “I want you to be honest, too. Not just when I push. If there’s anything you want to tell me, you should feel comfortable doing it at any time. No matter what.”
She nods slowly, takes it in.
I can see how hard it is for her. After growing up in a place where survival meant hiding, she isn’t any better at this than I am. Talking. Being honest.
But we’re both going to have to learn. If we want this to last, we have to be able to do this. Trust each other with the truth. No matter how ugly.
“Okay,” she whispers, like she’s made up her mind. “Then I need to be honest too.”
“That’s all I ask.”
“I don’t ever want to live like the other Bratva wives do.
” Her gaze searches mine. “Pretending they don’t see what’s right in front of them.
Smiling while everyone else whispers about their husband’s affairs.
” Her tone is hesitant, but her words aren’t.
She’s clearly thought this through. “I couldn’t live with that. I’d feel like a fool.”
She’s not accusing me of anything. Just telling me the truth, the same way I asked her to. Her words come from the same fear that drove her to run: fear of losing her dignity, of being trapped in a life built on lies.
“I understand,” I murmur. “And you won’t have to. Since the day I met you, I haven’t wanted anyone else. Even when you were gone, it never crossed my mind.”
“You mean that?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” I reach for her hand. My thumb brushes her knuckles. “My loyalty isn’t for show. And this—it’s not even just about love. It’s about respect.” I pick up the back of her hand and kiss it. “You’re my wife, Sima. I won’t humiliate you like that. Not ever.”
Sima’s eyes glisten. She exhales slowly, cheeks flushed, fingers trembling. “I believe you.”
“Good. Because it’s the truth.”
Her shoulders relax a little. I see relief on her face. Like she’s finally letting go of a heavy burden she’s been carrying her whole life.
“I don’t need perfect,” she says quietly. “I just need honest.”
“You’ll get both,” I promise. “Or I’ll make sure of it.”
For the first time all night, the tension between us eases.
She leans in and rests her head against my shoulder. I let my hand settle at the back of her neck and hold her there. The air feels lighter now, easier to breathe.
And finally, Kira’s words from this morning fade from my mind altogether.