Chapter 31
Mikhail
Mindlessly picking at the dry callus on my thumb, I slink back in the uncomfortable chair, listening to the unpleasant drone of Dr. Rosencrantz’s shrill voice.
“From the small portion you’ve shared with me about your past, it sounds like your trust has been violated time and time again.”
Not this again.
“I run a fucking Bratva. It comes with the territory.” I growl sharply, earning the familiar, annoying tut sound she so often uses with me.
“What did we talk about before, Mikhail? You are cursing to avoid using emotive words, and we need to dig into those feelings that I’m bringing up.”
“Fine,” I say, exhaling a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, my trust is violated often. It’s a frustrating reality that comes hand-in-hand with my career choice.”
“Fascinating. So this frustrates you?”
“What the hell does this have to do with earning Cassandra back?” I snap, leaning forward.
“That’s an excellent connection, Mikhail! Let’s dig into that, shall we?”
I groan, sitting back once more. I always fall for her little word traps.
“You said Cassandra communicated to you her frustration that you two didn’t actually get to know each other, correct?”
“Yes, but she’s wrong. I know everything I need to know, and I’ll happily learn the rest—”
“Ah ah,” she cuts me off, raising my fucking blood pressure all over again.
“We are not talking about serving your needs right now, but instead, zooming in on Cassandra’s needs.
She communicated her desire to know more about you.
Do you think it’s possible that you have avoided opening yourself up to her at any point in your interactions with each other? ”
I consider the question, staring down at my raw, calloused finger once again. I have avoided sharing any specifics about the Bratva and my position in it, but that was for her own safety. The more she knows about my business, the more danger she is in. I was protecting her.
“Have you shared any of your values with her? Any of the elements you wrote down in your happiness prompt last week?”
“No. We haven’t had the time to share any of that stuff yet. It can come later. I’ll spend the rest of my life showing her the things I care about and learning about her.”
“Mikhail, you have violated Cassandra’s trust. As someone who is intimately familiar with that feeling, you should be able to resonate with her emotions right now.
I don’t think closing yourself off is going to earn you a chance at that happily ever after you desire.
I suggest you start opening yourself up now. ”
I dig my nail into my palm, hating how much sense that makes in my head. I violated her trust. I know exactly how that feels, but that doesn’t mean I have any clue how to repair it. I’ve never even managed to repair my own.
I’m still considering the strange realization hours later, sitting in my dark office at Empire. The irritating beat of the music from downstairs seeps through the thick floorboards, vibrating the smooth surface of my desk and magnifying the ache pulsing in my head.
The long-anticipated knock against my door finally sounds, seconds before the barrier is cracked open. The godawful music rushes through the opening, infecting the room until Ivan finally clicks the door shut, silencing the noise to a mere buzz once more.
I hate this office during business hours.
Fists clenching with tension, I watch Ivan make his way to the chair across from me with poorly hidden anxiety, my patience growing thin.
“Well?” I finally snap out when he slides into the chair.
“She is well.”
The little shit stares back at me with a coy smile, purposefully providing the report I’ve anticipated for hours in the vaguest manner possible. I should’ve killed the asshole years ago.
“Did you deliver the groceries? Did she accept them?” I probe further, tone seeping with irritation.
“Yes, it appears she accepted the food.”
Happiness swims in my chest, a sigh of relief pinching my lungs. I half expected her to toss the offering directly into the trash. I wouldn’t have even blamed her, either. A single delivery can’t possibly come close to making up for all the pain I caused her that night.
“…and we had a little chat.”
The relief instantly dissipates.
Ivan’s face is still settled into an annoying-as-fuck sheath of humor, lips tilted up in a soft smirk. The fucker is enjoying this a little too much.
“If you don’t stop this coy shit and spill a second-by-second report out of your smug mouth in the next five seconds, I’ll slice off your weaker fingers knuckle by knuckle with a smile on my face,” I snap out, rage practically funneling from my nostrils.
His grin just stretches wider.
“Alright, lover boy, simmer down the death threats. Women don’t find that sexy, you know?”
“Ivan.”
“I was on watch at my post, and she came out to the car and offered me a cup of coffee. We talked a bit.”
“About what?” My anxiety intensifies. If he scared her off, I’ll find a very creative punishment, friend or not.
“This and that. I got the sense that you didn’t tell her much about the Bratva, so I kept it vague. She was interested, though.”
The shrill voice of Dr. Rosencrantz from earlier this morning floats in my memory.
I thought the safest way I could approach earning her trust was by hiding this side of my life from her.
After all, who would want to fall for a made man?
My life will always revolve around violence and threats, something I came to terms with a long time ago.
I chose this on my own, but she wouldn’t be choosing this life. She would be a captive in it.
You violated her trust, Mikhail. You should be intimately familiar with how that feels.
I glance up to my second, who’s now sitting back in quiet contemplation, watching me through that steady gaze of his.
“Was I wrong to hide all of this from her?” I ask quietly.
Ivan considers me for a moment longer.
“I don’t know how I would’ve done it all, were I in your position.
But now that she knows a fraction of our reality, she’s in a significant amount of danger, not knowing the full extent of our world.
She’s caught the attention of our enemies, yet has little to no understanding of why she needs a guard.
Her ignorance of the situation doesn’t seem like an option anymore, brother. ”
The honesty of his words pelts me one by one, shards of glass falling through the air. He’s correct. It’s my fault that she is in danger right now. And it’s no longer a viable option to keep her in the dark.
It’s just after midnight when I slide into my car, settling my stiff muscles back into the leather curves of the seat.
I eye the device in my hand like a tampered grenade, the alluring contact glowing across the screen.
As much as I crave the soft, raspy sound of her voice, my thumb hovers anxiously over the button, unsure of how she’ll react to what I need to tell her.
I need to find a way to earn her trust.
Each string of rings slices through me in thunderous waves. What if she refuses to answer my call? What if she still hates me?
The worried voice in my head snaps shut when the ringing cuts off.
“Hello?”
God, I missed her voice.
“Cassandra.” I breathe, listening carefully to the small hitch in her breath.
“Mikhail,” she says softly. She doesn’t exactly sound mad, but I’m not sure how to read the confusing tone of her voice. The anger I can deal with. At least that, I understand.
“How was your day?” I ask, my tone gentle.
She laughs, and the sound is musical in my ears.
“It was alright, I suppose. What is the real reason behind this call?”
“I heard you had a conversation with Ivan.”
“Yes. He was quite a bit more forthcoming than you.” She says, the words biting into my skin.
“I’m sorry for not giving you direct answers before. I thought it would protect you from certain aspects of my world and—” I take a breath, forcing the next words from my throat. “I guess I was scared. It’s been a long time since I’ve trusted someone else. I might’ve forgotten how.”
She says nothing for so long, I begin to wonder if she walked away from the phone. Eventually, a sigh of air crackles into the speaker, indicating she’s still there.
“It’s been a while since I trusted someone new, too.”
I wait in hopeful silence, praying that she keeps talking just so I can hear that beautiful voice.
“You know, I didn’t tell my best friend about being drugged that night.
Partly because I didn’t want her to blame herself for leaving me alone.
But also, I was ashamed of doing something so stupid.
Every girl in the world knows to watch her drink at the bar.
I knew better than that, and I didn’t want her to think of me as one of those naive girls who need to be watched to make sure they don’t wander off into danger they can’t handle. ”
My heart twists in pain at her words, the poor organ pumping in double time. It was my club. Neither of those girls is at fault for what happened, and shame courses through my veins at the realization that she’s been struggling with that completely misdirected sense of fault.
“Menace, that was my failure, not yours, and absolutely not your friend’s. I’m so sorry you felt that way for even a second. I won’t ever let something like that happen to you again.”
“It’s okay, Mikhail, my point is that when I finally told her what happened, followed by everything that went so wrong between you and me, the world didn’t come crashing down on my head like I thought it would. It felt better.”
I hate the memory she stirs of that night in my apartment, wanting to bury it, eat it, and swallow it so that it never hurts her again. But I know that’s not possible. So instead, I take deep, steadying breaths.
“My father—he wasn’t a good man. He ran the Bratva into the ground with his meaningless feuds and fostered enemies.
And the worst of it all was that when he finally fell, he managed to take my brother and mother down with him.
I inherited my position during the lowest point of my existence, and I carefully sifted through the entire organization to ensure that anyone who stood for my father’s values or relished the old ways was quickly obliterated. ”
I sigh, realizing I’ve never spoken this truthfully, this openly, to anyone before. Cassandra said the world didn’t come crashing down on her admissions, but part of me still tenses in anticipation, waiting for her to end the call. To walk away.
When nothing but calm silence fills the call, I push myself to continue.
“It seems that my father’s old enemies have infiltrated my syndicate once again. It takes me right back to that obliterating hopelessness I felt back then. And that feeling blinded me when I got a call that night, telling me you were at the center of it all. I’m so sorry, Cassandra.”
Pain fills my useless apology, spilling over into the hollow bounds of my ribs as I listen to the static silence gracing the call.