Chapter 21 —Eva
“Why did you tell him, Olga?” My voice rose higher than I intended. “It wasn’t your secret to tell!”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, her tone weak and dripping with regret. “I swear, I didn’t know you….” Her voice trailed off.
I threw my hands to my head, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. As mad as I was, I knew it wasn’t Olga’s fault, and I appreciated her for telling me about her conversation with Demyon.
He forced her to tell him the truth, and now the cat was out of the bag. I had no idea what to do or what to expect from him. I hadn’t come up with any valid plan prior to this moment, and I was honestly in desperate need of one.
“What’re you going to do now?” she asked, her gaze following me as I paced the length of my room.
Chewing on my nails, I answered, “I don’t know, Olga. I don’t know.”
She paused, watching me closely. “Maybe there is nothing to be done,” she said, her voice low and even.
My neck snapped back at her. “Are you kidding me?” I glared at her with knitted brows. “There has to be something—some way to get out of this situation.”
“Eva….”
“I can’t live like this, Olga!” I blurted out, my voice breaking under the weight of my pain. “My life is ruined, and it’s all because of him!”
She stared at me with unshed tears in her eyes, a testament to the fact that she could feel my agony. Olga was ready to help me in every way she could, but from the look on her face, there was no way out of this.
I combed my fingers through my hair, anger, fear, and frustration coursing through my blood. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him—I hate him so much!” The words tumbled from my mouth in a rush.
“Calm down, Eva,” she whispered, stepping closer to me. “You haven’t heard from him yet.” She took my hand, her eyes boring into mine.
“Olga, you know him better than anyone else,” I said, looking back at her. “How do you think he’s gonna handle this without further destroying my life?”
She didn’t reply; instead, she shifted her gaze to the door behind me. My heart skipped a beat, and a cold shiver sprinted down my spine as the scent of his cologne suddenly filled the air.
I locked my jaw, summoning the courage to act tough against the overwhelming fear threatening to suffocate me. I didn’t need to see him to know he was standing behind me. His commanding presence was something no one could ignore.
Quietly, I turned around, and there he was, standing by the door with both hands in his pockets.
“Olga, leave us,” he said without taking his eyes off me.
She hesitated for a little while, shifting her gaze between the two of us. I didn’t want her to go because I’d feel more confident and comfortable with her around me. However, she couldn’t defy him.
Olga flashed me an encouraging smile, squeezed my fingers, and then walked out of the room. After the door shut behind her, the silence that followed was awkward until he broke it.
“When were you going to tell me?” he demanded, his voice deep and husky.
I swallowed hard, wearing the meanest face I could muster.
He approached me with slow, menacing steps. “Did you honestly think you could keep this from me, huh?”
“I wish I could,” I replied, arrogant as ever. “But that’s not the case here. I just wasn’t ready to speak up.”
He halted in front of me. “The problem I have with you is how you treat this like it’s some bad news.”
My brows arched in disbelief, fingers clenching into fists as his words fueled my rage.
“Children are a blessing.”
“Easy for you to say.” My face contorted into a frown, and the following words spilled out in a breathless rush. “You’re the one whose life is ruined. You’re not the one who can’t chase her dreams anymore. You’re not the one who’s going to give birth out of wedlock.”
He paused for a moment. “Who says you’re going to give birth out of wedlock?”
That question caught me off guard, and I jerked my head back by a fraction. I squinted, trying to figure out what he meant by his question. “I…I don’t understand.”
“We’re getting married,” he blurted out, his tone flat.
My brain went blank for the first few seconds, unable to process the words he spoke. Maybe this was some sick joke. Maybe he was just teasing me.
I stood there, deluding myself into thinking that any second now, he’d laugh and say he was just pulling my leg. I desperately wanted this to be a prank, and so I waited for the moment he’d confirm my suspicion.
That moment never came—and that was when it hit me. This man wasn’t kidding.
My heart sank into my stomach. “You can’t be serious.”
“What is it about my face that makes you think I’m joking?” His rhetorical question was laced with a hint of arrogance and condescension.
My knees quaked, too weak to support my weight. I grabbed the edge of the nearest table and quietly sat down in the chair before my vanity. I placed my hand on my chest as I struggled to breathe, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts at once.
It was clear now that Demyon Tarasov was the weapon fashioned against me. “Why?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you doing this to me?” I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. “Haven’t you done enough? Haven’t you already taken everything from me?”
“Your emotions are clouding your judgment,” he said. “They’re the reason you fail to see the bigger picture.”
“Oh, trust me, I see the ‘bigger picture,’ all right.” I air-quoted the phrase and rose to my feet again.
“I see the lies, the manipulation—the control. I see it all, Demyon.” My voice was calm yet filled with sheer disdain.
“You never intended to let me go in the first place, and this child is the perfect excuse to keep me bound to you.”
He didn’t say a word, didn’t let his blank expression slip—just stared at me in silence.
A soft scoff escaped my lips. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” I asked, my voice laced with accusation. “Get me pregnant and hide under the guise of protecting the baby and me so you wouldn’t feel bad about holding an innocent girl against her will?”
Silence.
I sniffled and wiped my tears. “Well done, Demyon. You must be really proud of yourself.” I spread out my arms. “You’ve successfully destroyed me.”
I’d never felt my heart ache so badly before, never felt so much pain and humiliation. The more I wiped my tears, the more they streamed down my cheeks.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” he said. “Your safety and the baby’s are my top priority. You live in my world now. And here, my enemies don’t play fair.”
I listened to him, hating his unreadable expression and the harsh truth he was spilling.
“If they get a hold of you, they will end you and the life you carry in the most horrible way.” He paused, letting his words settle. “I cannot—I will not—let that happen. Not under my watch.”
I knew deep down that he would do anything to protect the baby and me, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.
“Now, you can hate me all you want,” he added, “and if that’s the price for keeping you away from danger…then be assured that I will gladly pay it.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. His words were comforting and reassuring—I almost even felt safe. But I was still angry at him; I was angry at everything that had gone wrong in my life since the day I met him.
Despite my reservations, I knew he was right about my life being in danger. The incident in St. Petersburg was still fresh in my mind, a constant reminder of what his enemies were capable of.
I hadn’t asked for this life—I hadn’t asked for any of this, yet it was my reality. How did I get here anyway? How on earth did I get entangled with this dangerous man? I was a long way from my former life, and from the look of things, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get it back.