Chapter 9 - Elisse
I did not sleep. Instead, I lay in the farthest corner of the bed, fully clothed, staring at the ceiling while the city lights shifted across it in slow and indifferent patterns. The vows replayed in my head on a loop. My name spoken clearly and confidently.
Elisse Chernykh.
Then his.
Fyodor Romanov.
The moment had split my life cleanly in two.
A perfect line drawn between a before and an after.
I must have drifted off sometime near dawn because when I opened my eyes again, sunlight was already filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse bedroom, and for one fragile second, I didn’t remember any of it.
But just when I turned my head, my gaze fell on him. He was there on his back, right beside me. His right arm was beneath his head, while the sheet barely covered his waist. I could see how he was asleep like a man without consequences.
My husband. The word felt like acid.
I had no idea when he had come into the bedroom because he hadn’t been there while I was awake.
I would have died before lying beside him otherwise.
He must have only come to sleep after I had already drifted off.
The thought of sleeping beside him filled me with a new round of anger that I didn’t even know I was capable of possessing.
I pushed myself upright carefully, watching him for any sign of movement.
His face in sleep was different, less carved, and less controlled.
He looked younger and almost human. I hated that my mind supplied that softness, but I ignored everything and slipped out of bed without waking him and stepped into the hallway.
The penthouse was quiet. Too quiet. Until I heard movement in the kitchen, and for a moment, my pulse spiked.
It sounded like another ambush, another controlled variable I hadn’t anticipated.
But just as I rounded the corner, my gaze fell on an elderly woman who stood at the stove, stirring something in a saucepan.
She wore a pale blue cardigan over a modest dress, her silver hair pinned neatly at the nape of her neck.
The air smelled like butter and fresh bread.
She turned when she sensed me.
Her eyes, kind, sharp, observant, took me in immediately.
“You must be Elisse,” she said gently.
Her accent was faint but unmistakably Russian, and I didn’t answer right away. She wiped her hands on a towel and approached slowly, as if I were a startled animal.
“I am Anya,” she said. “I have worked for the Romanovs for many years.”
Of course she had.
“Did he tell you to come?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you why?”
Her expression faltered slightly.
“He explained enough.”
“Enough,” I repeated, bitterness evident in that one word. I noticed how she studied my face carefully.
“I am very sorry,” she said quietly. The apology startled me more than anything else since last night.
“You’re sorry?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“For the way this happened. I know none of this can be easy for you, especially right now.”
Something in my chest shifted as if the weight that had been accumulating over it since last night had lifted off just a little. Who knew a single apology from a stranger could make that happen. It almost felt unreal.
“You knew?” I pressed.
“He called very late,” she admitted. “He said he had made a decision. He asked me to prepare the home for a wife and that I should come here in the morning. I usually do come here every few days to make sure the place is clean and perfect, but he wanted me to come and cook as well. It was a strange request since he never spends much time here.”
Her words twisted in my stomach.
“So you didn’t question him about all of it?” Her mouth tightened.
“I have known Fyodor since he was a boy,” she said softly. “I know when he does something because he believes it is necessary. He would not have taken such a big and bold step if it were not absolutely necessary in his eyes.”
“And this qualifies?”
She didn’t answer immediately, but instead, she gestured toward the island, which was already laden with food. I could see she had been cooking all morning, and the counter was filled with pancakes, bacon, butter, a sort of sweet bread, and a few items that seemed unrecognizable to me.
“You should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You will be.”
There was something grounding about her presence, something unthreatening in a penthouse that had become a gilded cage overnight.
It felt as if her being there somehow softened it and gave the cold, metallic bachelor pad a human touch.
I didn’t even know it was possible until now, but a part of me was slightly grateful for it all.
I went ahead and sat down on the barstool in front of the counter, even though the food still didn’t make me feel hungry.
“So you came with them from Russia when they moved to Miami? It couldn’t have been that long ago?” I asked.
“Yes. It was a rather recent move, as you might already know.”
“So you must also know Ilana.”
Her eyes warmed.
“Of course. From what I know, isn’t Ilana your brother’s wife now? I haven’t seen the darling girl since she was kidnapped.”
“She is, yes, and I can assure you she is very happy. She really loves Avgust and he worships the ground she walks on,” I replied, a smile touching my lips at the thought of the two of them. “What was she like when she was younger?”
“Stubborn,” she said immediately with a small laugh. “She has always been brilliant. Her heart is too big for the world she was born into.”
I swallowed.
“And Fyodor?” I asked, even though a part of me didn’t want to know anything about the man I now called my husband, but there was another part of me that craved for information.
I knew nothing about him except for his name and the person that he was.
I knew his body in intimate ways, but I didn’t know his soul.
I noticed how Anya’s gaze softened further.
“He was always the quiet one, if I am being honest. He was always watching and calculating, and he was the one who was always protecting his little sister even when she did not ask.”
Protecting. The word echoed unpleasantly. I remembered how Ilana had told me Fyodor was the brother she was the closest to.
“He thinks he’s protecting me as well. He seems to be rather obsessed with protecting people, even those who don’t need it and haven’t asked for it,” I muttered.
Anya looked at me carefully.
“He believes he is the protector, and he is always ready to go to any lengths to make it happen for those he genuinely cares about.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“No,” she agreed. “It does not. But sometimes people can’t distinguish between what is right and what is wrong, and that only makes them human.”
I studied her, knowing she was right.
“You’re not defending him, or is this your way to defend him by outlining his flaws so he seems normal to me?”
“I am not defending the method or what he did to you. I know what he did was wrong in more ways than one,” she said gently. “But I know one thing with complete affirmation, and that is that he would never harm you.”
“That’s reassuring, considering he married me without my consent and is practically keeping me here as a hostage.”
Anya winced faintly.
“I told him he was reckless with this when he told me what he had just done.”
That surprised me.
“You did?”
“Of course. No girl deserves to go through something as outright scandalous as what he put you through last night, and knowing that you were here with him in this absurdity makes me even angrier at him.”
“So what did he say?”
“He said he did not have the luxury of caution.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “That sounds like him.”
Anya tilted her head slightly as she studied me.
“You care for him.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She smiled faintly.
“I don’t.”
“You are angry because you care.”
I stepped back slightly.
“You don’t know me.”
“No,” she said softly. “But I know him.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I cannot undo what he has done, Elisse,” she continued.
“But I can tell you this, he has not been himself since the masquerade, and I know this because I was there when he came home in the morning after you walked away, and for the first time in his life, he told me about a girl he had met and how she didn’t want to be with him. ”
My heart stuttered.
“I don’t want to hear that.”
“He did not know who you were. He called you Elle.”
“I know. That’s the name I had given him.”
“So you can imagine what he must have gone through when he finally found out.”
“That’s a strange way to describe blackmail.”
Her lips curved faintly. “You have spirit.”
“That’s not going to help me.”
“It might.” I looked around the penthouse, the gleaming surfaces, and the quiet luxury of it all.
“Does he think my family won’t notice?”
“I am sure they already have,” she said quietly.
Ice slid down my spine as I realized she was right.
News travels fast in our world, and someone at the house must have noticed I hadn’t returned home last night.
If not yet, they will surely notice in a couple of hours, and panic will ensue, which only means they will come looking for me.
They have to. They will never tolerate my disappearance and kidnapping, and will certainly never tolerate a forced marriage with a Romanov.
“I am sure Fyodor believes he can handle what comes,” I scoffed, knowing him already.
“He is reckless and arrogant, a little overconfident,” Anya laughed, and I realized she didn’t look worried.
“He’s selfish,” I corrected her, and she paused at that.
“Yes,” she admitted softly, and her honesty disarmed me again. “But he is not cruel. Not in the way you fear.”
“I don’t need him to be kind,” I said. “I need him to respect me, and last night he showed me that he doesn’t do that.”
Anya studied me for a long moment. “Then demand it from him.