Chapter 7 - Roman
There’s something polished about her now that just makes sense to me.
The soft sweaters she’s been wearing that hug her shoulders and how those leggings appealingly accentuate her hips…it’s almost like she stepped out of a catalog.
She looks like someone from my world now…someone who has belonged in it all along.
Yet, I already know she doesn’t feel that way.
Given how stiff she looks while she walks, or how her shoulders are slightly hunched and she tends to fold her arms over her chest, I can tell she’s uncomfortable.
Whether it’s the clothes, the house, the people, or just me, I can tell something doesn’t feel right to her.
She’s rigid like prey, and that thought feels like a knife to the ribs for whatever reason. I know it’s all a lot to take in. It is for me, too, despite myself.
I never expected things to unfold as they did. I thought it would be a clean process, and in due time, I’d have Maxim on his knees begging for mercy.
Instead, I have a woman claiming not to be a Nikolaev at all. One who looks like she wants to jump out of her skin at every faint noise. At every pair of footsteps that appear anywhere near her.
Maybe a part of me should care about the fact that she’s likely not Viktoria at all…But I can’t bring myself to.
Whether she’s Viktoria or an innocent teacher from California, I still want her.
I want to pull the defensive, fearful layers back to see what’s beneath. To find the full extent of that spark in her, I’ve managed to see only small glimpses of.
I want to handle that slight snap in her tone for myself and get to the bottom of that instinct of hers that’s telling Victoria to never trust me.
It’s all infuriating, yet somehow impossible for me to shrug off.
I screwed up by snatching her without making sure I knew who I was dealing with, but the piece of me craving more…craving the chance to make it work, is driving me to keep her around.
To keep her as my wife, consequences be damned.
Sitting stiffly across from me at the table by the pool, Victoria picks at the food on her plate.
I had the chef lay out a simple brunch of eggs, fresh bread, whatever meat was on hand, and some coffee to tie it all together.
It isn’t anything extravagant, but for good reason.
I had the feeling she wasn’t in the mood for the finest things money can buy—not after she seemed annoyed by my gesture the other day.
Still, the space shared between us is quiet. It’s partly nice, but mostly chipping away at my patience.
Victoria still hasn’t said much of anything to me since the clothes were brought in, and that nagging feeling in me persists, wanting to dispel that quiet.
While across from her, I note how the light settles over her hair, catching those blonde highlights and making them shimmer. She’s bare-faced. Raw and completely real.
Even if her features are youthful, there’s something behind her eyes, like a type of exhaustion one can’t shake. One born from some sort of trauma.
I’ve come across enough people in this business to be able to pick out that look. Many who have turned to my line of work did so out of desperation due to their circumstances.
And while I still don’t believe Victoria knows anything more than she let on before, I have the feeling she has seen her fair share of darkness regardless.
Still, through her silence, that anger remains. It may be quiet, but it’s present.
I want to tell her to look at me…to let me look into her eyes, if even for a moment. But I don’t. And she doesn’t lift her gaze.
The buzz of the cell in my pocket stirs me from my thoughts, yet I leave it and try to focus on the meal. Then it goes off again. And again.
Relenting, I sigh and slide it out before glancing down and quickly scanning the message on screen from Sergey.
Another Nikolaev problem at the docks… Ivan covered it, but we lost a few…Alerting their families now.
My eye twitches at the text, and it takes far too much power to keep that irritation in.
Of course…leave it to Maxim to continue his shit while I’m trying to figure out my own.
I don’t need it right now. Not while I’m trying to connect with the woman I forced into marriage with me.
Tucking my phone away again, I glance over to find Victoria watching me, seemingly studying every shift in my expression.
After a moment, I murmur, “You’re not eating.”
She waits before returning in a slightly clipped tone, “I’m not hungry.”
“Surely that’s not true…the housekeeper said you’ve been ignoring your meals lately.”
“I’ve been confined to a room.”
My jaw clenches, and I force myself to relax it. “You’re not in there now.”
To my surprise, Victoria holds my gaze and allows more of her displeasure to come through. “No. But I’m still being locked down in this place anyway. But that’s completely different.”
That sardonic tone is riddled with sharp edges, and I know I should shut it down, but I let it linger instead.
It’s tempting to reprimand her, but that doesn’t feel like the right move.
“You’re safe here, even if you don’t think so.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, and she shakes her head, not saying anything else.
Through her disbelief, I put my utensils down and look at her directly, imagining there isn’t anything on the table between us.
“I mean it...nobody is going to hurt you under my roof.”
“Nobody? Not even you?” She counters, allowing more of those claws to come out.
While it irritates me, I can’t help but find this side of her fascinating anyway.
Keeping my eyes on her, I try to gauge her every angle, anticipating what she might say next. “I haven’t hurt you.”
“Kidnapping counts in my book.”
Well aware that we will likely only continue to go in circles, I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. As much as I want to act on some of that frustration, I know I can’t. Not when she already assumes the worst of me.
“I’m trying, alright?”
“Trying to do what?” She asks incredulously, absolutely not holding back. “Make my cage seem like it isn’t one at all?”
The slight tremble in her words speaks of her subtle fear, but mostly her anger. Almost like her patience has been tested long enough already, and she isn’t willing to hide behind that initial meekness forever.
It’s equally admirable and irritating.
“A cage, huh?” I ask, letting my gaze fall over her before returning to her eyes.
“And what kind of cage comes with designer clothes that most could only dream of affording? Or tables full of fresh food that you choose to push around rather than eat? And what about the effort you wouldn’t receive from anyone else? ”
Victoria’s eyes narrow further, dodging my attempts to throw it back at her more efficiently than I anticipated. “You say that like I should thank you…as if you aren’t doing all of this to overcompensate for kidnapping the wrong woman and forcing me to marry you.”
I stare at her for a moment longer while measuring my words. “You call it overcompensating, I call it helping.”
“Helping?” She scoffs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard. “Trying to get me to comply is helping me?”
“No…” I mumble, voice low but direct. “I’m trying to help you feel human still despite everything.”
Her eyes remain on me longer than I expect, but there’s still a flicker of hesitation in her face.
“Again, you wouldn’t need to do any of this if you just let me go.”
She isn’t wrong. Technically, I could cut my losses and try to forget all about it. But I know that’s a terrible idea. I also don’t want to.
“And I already told you why I won’t do that. I’m not going to keep rehashing the same tired points,” I say, wishing she would just give me a moment to prove my sincerity in some way.
“I never asked for any of this, tired or not.”
“I know. Neither did I. At least, not like this,” I admit with a touch of reluctance.
I hate admitting when I’ve miscalculated something, or when I’ve taken a misstep I should’ve taken into consideration first.
And, of course, the gleam in her eyes tells me everything I need to know about how she’s receiving everything.
She’s hardly being receptive. Hardly making an effort of her own. Can I blame her? Not entirely. But it doesn’t make it any easier on my pride.
“You’re the one who made the call and decided all of this.”
“I made a choice based on the information I had, believing it to be true. Now, I have to deal with the fallout and minimize as much damage as I can. But you…you’re here now, in my home, and this is happening regardless.
It’s within my power to make you disappear, but I won’t.
It wouldn’t be right. You can be traced back to me one way or another now, and I at least have the decency to admit I caused this—to know that I have to face the consequences of that decision and not take the coward’s way out,” I counter, letting her know just how serious I am.
“As for letting you go, you’ve seen too much, and you know too much…
you have to understand the position that puts me in, too. ”
Her calculating stare is new, yet it oddly suits her.
“I don’t want to know anything.”
“It’s far too late now.”
That previous silence before had been tense, but now it’s almost unbearable as it stretches on.
Still, something in me wants to reach for her…not necessarily in a physical way just yet, but in a way that might help me get through to her. To reach a place where she can meet me halfway.
I don’t want every interaction between us to feel like a small war...I have enough of those to contend with already.
Even if I want to be gentle and decent to her, she’s testing me. Pushing my limits and searching for any cracks.
Finally, I pull in a breath and absently run a hand over my chin. “All of this could be very different for you…I could genuinely lock you in that room. I could strip away those comforts and make every moment feel like a living hell for you.”
At this, Victoria stiffens, and her brows furrow, as if realizing she found that boundary after all.
“I could be the monster you think I am…surely we both know I’m capable of it,” I mutter, hardening my expression.
“But I don’t want to do that. It’s not how I want this to go.
Regardless of how you want to look at it, I’m giving you the space to breathe and adjust. I’m trying to show you that this doesn’t need to be your personal hell. ”
Even if she seems to take in every word, there’s still contempt in her gaze. She’s far more stubborn than I initially expected of her.
“So then why does it feel like exactly that anyway?”
My lips form a tight line, and I try to hold back that frustration despite how she continues to push.
“Because I have the feeling you don’t know what that feels like yet.”
At that, Victoria’s eyes almost glaze over as a solid mask consumes her face, giving away that I hit a sore spot of some kind.
Before I can say anything else, she pushes back from the table and gets to her feet, looking far more livid than she initially had been.
“You don’t know the first thing about me or my experiences…don’t pretend like you do.”
Obviously, I said something I shouldn’t have, but I still find myself trying to understand what set her off. Wondering what that means to her.
She isn’t what I had expected…Well, I expected this kind of attitude from Viktoria Nikolaev—not Victoria Evans…the woman who looked so soft and complacent while sleeping in the spare room.
Still, she’s more proud and fiery than I ever could’ve guessed, and it seems she’s not holding back like she did last night.
She’s been allowed to see the situation with fresh eyes and to note each way I’ve wronged her despite my efforts to lessen those blows.
Something about her fury stokes my need to correct her, but another part of me just wants her even more because of it.
She’s an enigma to me, and despite myself, she’s making me feel off-kilter.
Regardless of her resistance, I need this to work, and for that to happen, I need her to cooperate.
Right now, it seems she’d rather bring the whole house down than meet me halfway.