Chapter 39 Eva
EVA
The past two weeks blur together in my memory like watercolors bleeding across canvas. Wedding preparations have consumed every waking moment. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I am getting married. The word sits heavily in my chest, equal parts anticipation and terror.
But today isn't about me. Today is about Katya.
I stand at the estate's front windows, my hands pressed against the cold glass, watching the circular drive for Roman's SUV.
He left before dawn with his full security detail, his tension palpable despite his careful control.
I've never seen him this vulnerable, this openly afraid.
Katya means everything to him. She's the last piece of innocence from his childhood, the only person he loves without complication or darkness.
And now she's being forced to abandon her life in Moscow because Abram Yakovlev discovered Roman's greatest weakness.
My hand drifts to my stomach beneath my cream-colored sweater. Our child grows there, another vulnerability Roman will have to protect. Another target for his enemies to exploit. The thought makes my throat tight with fear I'm trying desperately not to examine.
The SUV finally appears through the estate gates, and my pulse quickens.
I smooth my sweater over my hips, acutely aware of how the fabric clings to my fuller breasts, the slight curve of my belly that's becoming harder to hide.
I want to make a good impression on Roman's sister, want her to see me as more than just the secretary who trapped her brother with a pregnancy.
Roman enters first, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his blue eyes immediately finding mine across the foyer.
Even exhausted and worried, he's devastatingly handsome in his charcoal suit, and my body responds with embarrassing eagerness.
Heat floods my cheeks as I remember our date by the pond, the way he felt inside me, the controlled violence of his thrusts that made me forget my own name.
Then Katya steps through the door, and my breath catches.
She's ethereal. That's the only word that fits.
Tall and willowy, with the same piercing blue eyes as Roman but softened with warmth his have lost. Her dark hair falls in waves around her shoulders, and there's something almost otherworldly about her beauty—like a painting of a saint come to life.
She's wearing a simple dress beneath her coat, nothing expensive or designer, and somehow, that makes her even more striking.
"Eva." Roman's voice is rough with emotion as he guides his sister toward me. "This is Katya. Sestrichka, this is Eva. My fiancée."
Katya's face breaks into a genuine smile, and she pulls me into an embrace that catches me completely off guard. She smells like paint and something floral, and her hug is warm and real in a way that makes my chest ache. When she pulls back, her blue eyes are bright with tears.
"I'm so happy to meet you," she says in accented English, her voice soft and musical. "Roman has told me so much about you. About the baby." Her gaze drops to my stomach, and her smile widens. "I'm going to be an aunt. Bozhe moy, I can't believe it."
The genuine joy in her expression makes something tight in my chest loosen. "I'm happy to meet you too. Roman talks about you constantly."
"Only good things, I hope." Katya's laugh is light, teasing, and I see Roman's expression soften in a way I've never witnessed before. With his sister, the cold mask he wears drops completely, revealing the man beneath the monster.
We settle Katya in one of the guest suites, and I leave her to rest from the long flight.
But as I descend the stairs, I catch Roman watching me from the hallway below.
His gaze tracks the sway of my hips, drops to my ass in these jeans, and when our eyes meet, the heat in his expression makes my thighs clench with awareness.
"Thank you," he says quietly when I reach him. "For being kind to her."
"Of course." I want to touch him, to smooth away the tension still visible in his shoulders. "She's lovely, Roman. I can see why you've protected her so fiercely."
His hand cups my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip in a gesture that's becoming familiar. "Tomorrow, you become my wife. Tomorrow, I can finally have you in my bed every night."
The promise in his voice sends heat straight to my core.
My nipples tighten beneath my sweater, and I see his gaze drop to notice, his jaw tightening with restraint.
His other hand slides down to my hip, pulling me closer, and I feel the hard length of him pressing against my stomach.
"You're making it very difficult to be patient, solnyshko. "
Before I can respond, Alexei's voice echoes from the sitting room. Roman steps back with visible effort, adjusting himself discreetly, and I force my breathing to steady.
Dinner that evening is tense from the start.
We gather in the formal dining room with Roman at the head of the table, me at his right, and Katya beside me.
Alexei sits across from his future sister-in-law, his sixteen-year-old enthusiasm barely contained as he peppers her with questions about Moscow, about art, about everything.
Lev and Irina complete the circle, and I'm acutely aware of Irina's presence like a weight pressing against my shoulders.
The food is traditional Russian, dishes Roman ordered specifically for Katya's arrival. Borscht, pelmeni, black bread with butter. But Katya barely touches her plate, her blue eyes fixed on her brother with barely concealed frustration.
"I didn't want to come here," she says suddenly, her accented English sharp with irritation. "You forced me to leave my home, my students, my life. Everything I've built in Moscow."
Roman's jaw tightens, but his voice remains patient. "I explained why it was necessary."
"So you uproot my entire existence?" Katya's voice rises slightly. "Roman, I had an exhibition scheduled next month. Children depending on me for their art classes. A life that was mine, not defined by your world."
"A life that would have gotten you killed.
" Lev's voice cuts through the tension, clinical and cold.
"Abram Yakovlev doesn't make idle threats.
He's brutal, sestrichka. He targets family members to gain leverage.
If he'd taken you, used you against Roman…
" He doesn't finish the sentence, but the implication hangs heavily in the air.
Katya's face pales slightly, but her frustration doesn't entirely fade. "I understand the danger. But I'm not a child, Roman. I deserved to be part of the decision about my own life."
"There was no decision to make." Roman's voice drops to that low register that makes most people step back. "Your safety isn't negotiable."
I watch this exchange, seeing the love beneath their argument, the fear driving Roman's control.
Across the table, I catch Irina watching me with an expression that makes my skin prickle.
When Roman and Lev are focused on Katya, Irina's beautiful face twists with something venomous, her green eyes boring into me with pure hatred.
But the moment Roman glances her way, the mask snaps back into place—polished, perfect, revealing nothing.
It's the second time I've been alone with Irina, and her hostility is unmistakable. But I still can't understand its source. What have I done to earn such hatred?
Katya seems to sense the tension because she deliberately shifts the conversation. "At least I'm here in time for the wedding." Her face brightens with genuine happiness, the earlier frustration melting away. "My brother is finally getting married. I never thought I'd see the day."
"Neither did I," Roman admits, his blue eyes finding mine across the table. The heat in his gaze makes my breath catch.
An idea forms, spontaneous and genuine. "Katya, would you be one of my bridesmaids? Megan is my maid of honor, but I'd love to have you stand with us tomorrow."
Katya's face transforms with delight. "Really? You want me in your wedding party?"
"Of course." I reach over and squeeze her hand. "You're going to be my sister. I can't imagine getting married without you there."
"Yes!" Katya's enthusiasm is infectious, her earlier anger completely forgotten. "Yes, I'd be honored. Bozhe moy, I need to see the dress, we need to coordinate—"
But I don't miss Irina's expression. For just a moment, before she can mask it, fury flashes across her beautiful features. Her hands clench on her wine glass hard enough that her knuckles go white, and her green eyes fix on me with such hatred that my stomach clenches with unease.
Then the mask slides back into place, and she's smiling that tight, polished smile. "How lovely," she says, her voice perfectly modulated. "A family affair."
The rest of dinner passes in forced normalcy.
Alexei and Katya bond over their shared love of creating things—his engineering, her art.
Roman watches his sister with visible relief, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.
But I can't shake the feeling of Irina's eyes on me, the weight of her hatred pressing against my skin.
Lev and Irina leave shortly after dinner, and Roman retreats to his study for calls with Moscow.
The delegates are arriving soon to observe him, to judge whether he's fit to remain Pakhan.
The pressure is crushing him, I can see it in the set of his jaw and the way his hands curl into fists when he thinks no one's watching.
I'm in the sitting room reviewing final wedding details when Katya finds me. She settles onto the couch beside me, tucking her legs beneath her in a gesture that reminds me of myself. For a moment, we sit in comfortable silence, and I feel the beginning of real friendship forming between us.
"Thank you," Katya says quietly. "For asking me to be in your wedding. It means more than you know."
"I meant it."
Katya's blue eyes study my face with uncomfortable intensity. "Can I ask you something? About Irina?"
My stomach tightens. "Of course."
"How long have you known her?"
"Not long. We've only really met twice. Why?"
Katya's expression becomes serious, almost worried. "Be careful with her, Eva. I've seen that look before—jealousy mixed with desperation. Women like that are dangerous when they feel threatened."
The words send ice through my veins. "Threatened by what? I barely know her. I haven't done anything—"
"You don't have to do anything." Katya's hand covers mine, her touch gentle but urgent. "You exist. You're marrying Roman. You're carrying his heir. That's enough to make you a target for someone who wants what you have."
"But she's with Lev. She's been with him for years."
Katya's laugh is bitter, almost sad. "Is she? Or is she with Lev because she can't have Roman?"
The implication crashes over me with sickening clarity. Irina wants Roman. Has always wanted him. And now I'm in her way, taking what she believes should be hers. Could that be true?
"Eva." Katya's voice drops even lower, becomes almost frightened. "I saw how she looked at you tonight. That's not simple dislike. That's hatred. The kind of hatred that makes people do terrible things."