15. Emily
15
EMILY
THE NEXT EVENING
Holy shit.
I’ve never watched MMA or found any thrill in seeing men fight.
But that’s before I catch sight Konstantin and Gerasim sparring, as if they are struggling for their lives while the sun sinks lower into the west.
And the strangest thing … is how fucking hot it is to watch.
Konstantin is an animal. His arms flex with every swing he lands on Gerasim. There’s fire in his eyes. His need to win can be felt even at this distance.
Unsticking my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I ogle his legs when he changes angles. The man has unfairly defined calves. The fight is primal, and it wakes up the bit of my brain that dreams of being dragged off into a misty forest and ravished by a powerful warrior.
Konstantin fits the bill for sure ...
I’m too far to hear anything other than their grunts of effort … of pain … echoing from the distance .
“Oh!” I exhale in surprise when Konstantin slams Gerasim to the mats.
They’re struggling, but he has the upper hand. His forearm chokes Gerasim underneath his chin.
My pulse leaps higher—Konstantin is punching Gerasim violently in the face. This isn’t a normal spar; this is a bloody battle between two men, but what they’re really fighting over, I’m not sure. I watch in disbelief, my nails digging into the edge of the door as the battle rages on.
“How long have they been at it?” A soft voice asks beside me.
I turn and find Alisa at my side. She still looks a little nervous from the way her arms wrap around herself. But her face seems fuller and the wary look in her eyes have faded somewhat.
As she moves closer, I notice that I’m much shorter than her and realize that for most of our interactions, she’s either sitting down or hugging her knees to her chest.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I’ve only just started watching.”
“He and Sima used to fight for hours when they were younger,” she says as she watches Gerasim break out of the lock and drive his knee into Konstantin’s stomach. “Kostya never could beat Sima one-on-one.” She pauses for a moment. “Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For being there to comfort me.” She turns towards me, and chews her bottom lip for a moment.
“You don’t have to thank me,” I reply.
“I’ve never seen anyone talk him down like you have,” she says. “Especially on our way home.”
There’s that word again.
Home.
I thought that the castle might start to feel like home again, even if just a little bit. But that hasn’t been the case. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen Alla yet in the castle. The knowledge that she’s looming somewhere—like a ghost haunting these walls—is keeping me on edge.
I know she’ll make her appearance soon.
And I’m not sure how I might react when I do see her.
I push the thought of Alla out of my mind and focus on Alisa’s gratitude. It’s new and alluring. I haven’t done a good job protecting the people I care about. Sheltering her feels like a win … And Lord knows, I needed a win more than anything else right now.
“You’ve been through enough on Capri without having to go through an interrogation right after getting rescued,” I say. “And I know that Konstantin can have his dark sides when he puts his mind to it.”
I’ve seen it in person, and I have no desire to subject anyone else to it.
“He came to talk to me last night.”
“He did?” I look at her in surprise.
“He said that you told him what happened during my captivity.” Alisa nods. “And more importantly, what didn’t happen. He was very relieved that Domenico didn’t touch me.”
Her words send a shiver down my own spine.
You’re here now, I remind myself. Domenico can’t touch you here. Konstantin won’t let him.
“He told me how the two of you met, by the way.” A slight smile curves on her face, and that’s when I notice she has the same beauty mark by her eyes. It’s much lighter in color than Konstantin’s, but in the light of the dying day, it’s unmistakable. “I can’t believe he still has that Hello Kitty bag tag.”
“Of course he would,” I say. “He got it for you. It’s a reminder of how important you are to him. Big brothers and sisters are like that.”
The mention of the bag tag makes me think of Olivia and all the unfulfilled promises that we made to each other. I recall seeing her copy of the bag tag on her suitcase by the door of her apartment, and my heart aches at the thought that both bright pink bag tags are now probably sitting in an NYPD evidence locker, likely lost forever.
Knowing that makes it feel like I’ve lost her all over again. My nose stings and I can feel tears threatening my eyes again.
Ugh! I’ve been so emotional since returning. It seems that no matter what, even the slightest little thing sends me crying these days. Just then, another wave of nausea washes over me, and I manage to swallow it back just in time.
“Are you alright?” Alisa asks me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just … Feeling a little under the weather today.”
The nausea dies down by now, but the aching hole in my heart remains. I must be pregnant. There’s no other explanation.
“He really likes you, by the way,” Alisa says. “He told me so himself last night.”
“He did?”
It’s funny how even though I’ve heard him tell me he loves me, a part of me still has trouble accepting that he actually likes me. Almost as if I’ve been looking for any and all reasons to doubt his love for me.
Maybe it’s because I still can’t shake off what I’ve heard him say to Gerasim behind that door—how he won’t get what he wants until he puts a baby in my belly. Maybe it’s his hesitation to answer me if he’ll choose between me or the bratva .
Maybe it’s my unfounded fear that once I have a child, he’ll abandon me because he’ll have no more uses for me.
“Did you know he used to talk to me all the time about the kind of girl he thought he’d have to marry?” The smile on Alisa’s face grows wider now, and a new liveliness takes over her. “He’d spend hours talking about that with me in my room. Away from our grandmother’s ears.”
“Really?” I have a hard time picturing Konstantin sitting with a young Alisa, gossiping about marriage and girls.
It feels so out of character for him. But then again, just how well do I know him?
I’ve only ever seen him as the ruthless pakhan, the stone-cold killer, and the suave dancer who effortlessly led me through a whole new dancing style in Italy. I didn’t grow up with him like Alisa had. I never got a chance to see him stumble his way towards adulthood with the guilt of his parents snapping at his heels.
My hand rests on my belly, and I can swear I feel new life growing there.
Suddenly, I’m filled with a newfound longing. Not just a sexual one, but something much deeper and much more profound. The thought of two souls coming together until the ends of time.
And suddenly, I have the urge to grow old with him. I want to hold our baby together, and see their little hands and feet grow bigger with each passing day. To watch them take their first steps with him.
Would they look like him? With his mahogany hair and lopsided smile? Or would they look like me? A smattering of freckles over skin so pale that it can burn even when the sun is hiding behind clouds?
“He thought, well, dreaded is the more accurate word,” Alisa says, “that he’ll have to marry one of those stuck-up bratva princesses. Demanding, bossy, and so high maintenance that he’ll go broke just supplying her demand to keep up with the latest fashion in Milan and Paris. And then the second she gives him a kid, poof!” Alisa snaps her fingers. “She retires to a summer dacha somewhere on the coast, hosting dinner parties for a different flavor of boyfriend each week.”
“That sounds incredibly exhausting.”
“Which is why he loves you so much.” Alisa blushes from embarrassment when I cock an eyebrow as she quickly stammers to correct herself. “Not because you’re easy or simple. Kostya would never fall for someone like that. It’s because you’re genuine. You don’t hide things from him like they would. With you, he doesn’t feel like he has to walk on eggshells and anticipate when your mood is about to take a sudden swing.”
“Is that really how he feels?” I ask, occasionally sparing a glance at Konstantin and Gerasim still fighting on the mats.
“He loves you, Emily,” Alisa replies. “More than anyone else in the world. Probably even more than me.”
“He may love me,” I say. “But he’ll always care deeply about you.”
“What about you?” she asks pointedly. “Do you love him?”
It’s the second time that someone has asked me this. And I still don’t have a good answer. Instead of trying to work it out myself, I figure I might as well just say it out loud.
“I want to say I do,” I confess. “I mean, I do. But somehow, I have a hard time saying it out loud to him. Does that make any sense?”
“Not really,” she says. “If you love him, why don’t you just say it out loud? ”
I hesitate for a moment. “Because I can’t stop thinking that there’s a chance he’ll put the bratva before me. That he only loves me for what I can offer him.” My hand rests on my belly, and Alisa’s eyes widen when she sees.
“Are you …”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “And I’m almost afraid to know because if I am pregnant, how can I be sure that he loves me for me and not because the heir of the bratva is in my belly?”
“You can trust me to tell you that he loves you because you’re you,” she reassures me. “Not because you helped him take control from our grandmother, not because you helped keep me sane, and not because you’re the mother to his child. Those are important, sure, but he could’ve gotten all of those things from any other woman. He wants to make you happy, Emily. He wants to spend forever with you. He told me that he asked you to be his real wife at your wedding. And if there’s one thing that I know about my brother, it’s that he doesn’t lie. Not to me, and certainly not to you.”
That’s true, I think. He hasn’t ever lied to me, even when I accused him of doing just that. He has only ever told me the truth.
“If he tells you that he loves you,” she continues. “It’s because he does. Unconditionally. It’s that simple.”
I nod, feeling the familiar sting of tears threatening my nose again.
Suddenly, all color drains from Alisa’s face as she stares past me. Her eyes are focused on something else.
Rather, someone else.
Turning around, my stomach loops in my gut when I see the familiar strong jaws, grim-set eyes, and the left eye cloudy with cataract .
Flanked by her bodyguards, Alla approaches us like a haughty queen.
I recognize some of the men by her side. They had been present when she stripped me after I had overheard Konstantin and Gerasim. They were also there to hold me down in bed while Alla tortured me. One of them looks me up and down, his salacious gaze lingering at my chest, and I feel revulsion threatening to punch up my throat.
“You’re back,” she says. I don’t know whether she’s talking to me or Alisa, but the disdainful look on her face is shown to both of us equally.
“Grandmother.” Alisa dips her head.
“I was under the impression you were held in captivity,” she replies as she clutches Alisa’s chin to examine her face. “You seem to have been fed quite well during this time. Perhaps we won’t need to have such a large dinner tonight.”
What? Is she serious? I feel a protective fire lighting inside of me at the callous way Alla comments on her own granddaughter’s suffering. Is there not a single protective bone in this woman’s body? Does she only know how to communicate in insults?
“I …” Alisa stammers as tears start welling in her eyes.
“Dry those tears at once!” Alla barks. “You are a Siderov, and Siderovs don’t cry.”
Alisa does her best to blink those tears away, but it’s useless. I chance a glance back at Gerasim and Konstantin fighting in the distance, but they’re so absorbed in their combat that they don’t even notice what is happening.
“I’m sorry, Alla Antonovna,” Alisa’s hands ball into fists by her side as she struggles to keep herself from trembling in her grandmother’s iron-hard clutch. “It’s just that … I …”
“Spit it out, devushka !” Alla finally lets her go. “I taught you to speak properly, and you will do exactly that when you talk to me.”
Alisa closes her mouth, shaking. She seems to shrink before my eyes as she tucks her chin down and rounds her shoulders forward. Her hands rise up to clutch her arms as a barely audible sniffle makes its way through her nose.
“I hope you’ve learned a sharp lesson on why boundaries and territory lines exist in our world, devushka ,” Alla says. “You were a stupid girl for thinking you can go to New York and not provoke a reaction like this. Do you know how many men have died for you?’
“I’m sorry, Alla Antonovna.” Alisa repeats herself.
“Sorry?” she snaps. “Do you imagine that this absolves you of your sins? Do you think this could bring back the dead? Did you know that I almost died at your brother’s wedding? All because of you! ”
Alisa shakes her head, unable to respond. Alla scoffs and keeps berating her, switching to Russian so that I can’t understand.
I don’t need to understand. I know that tone better than anyone else.
It’s the same tone I’ve heard from my own parents use on Olivia all my life.
And after she left, the same tone they used on me whenever I did poorly on a test, or hurt myself somehow, or did one of the many things that meant they needed to spend their precious money.
And whenever they switched to that tone, they always dressed it up nicely with ‘ I’m not mad, just disappointed . ’
But to a child already riddled with guilt, it might as well be ‘ I hate you .’
The difference is, I’m pretty sure Alla hasn’t ever bothered to hide her hatred.
She clearly does not give a fuck about the horrors that Alisa had seen and suffered.
The protective fire in me is burning hotter and hotter now.
Growing up, I had always wondered just how Olivia had the courage to step forward when she did. To redirect the brunt of their abuse and hate towards herself away from me.
But now, watching as Alisa flinch away from Alla’s talon-like fingers, I realize just how naturally it had come to her.
And now, me.
“Enough!” I step between the two of them just as Alla raises her hand again for another violent stab of her finger.
“Step aside, little whore,” she sneers. “What I say to my granddaughter is none of your business.”
“What you say to my sister-in-law is every bit my business.” I refuse to yield, and her insult bounces uselessly off me. The urge to keep Alisa safe from Alla is like a shield around me. “You have no idea the kind of things she experienced. The things that she’s seen.”
“And what just what did she see that I haven’t? I was here in the nineties? 1 when this corner of the earth exploded into madness. Don’t presume to talk to me about seeing awful things.” she directs her venom at me now. “Did she see men lined up in rows and shot until the streets were running with blood? Did she see and hear women and girls screaming as they were dragged from under beds and tables by their hair?”
With every word, Alla’s face twists into a harder scowl.
“That still doesn’t give you the right to belittle her suffering!” I shout back. “It doesn’t make her experience any less valid. And unlike you, her suffering is still fresh on her mind.”
Alla stops, and for a foolish moment, I dare to think that I reached a part of her humanity that might’ve been forgotten but still exists.
But then, she starts to smile, and I know that I was a fool for even daring to think like that.
“And what about your suffering, little whore?” Now it’s her turn to look me up and down.
She steps closer. Phantom needles start stabbing at my fingers, my arms, and my legs as the distance between us shrinks. Finally, she’s close enough that she grabs my arm just like the first time she met me. Nails dig into my flesh, but I don’t wince.
I can’t show her weakness.
“Don’t you want to know if there’s a Siderov growing in your belly?” she coos.
Nausea bubbles in my throat, and I know the answer from the way her eyes are glinting. Daring to look away, I see that all of her guards are looking at me with the same hungry look in their eyes. One of them even licks his lips when hesees me glance their way.
“Am I …”
“Oh yes.” She hisses as she digs her nails even deeper. “It seems that you were a very good little whore. Which means …”
Her lips twist into a dark smile, and the threat from that awful night suddenly returns with nightmarish clarity.
Until I am certain that a Siderov lives in your belly, I will keep my guards away from your tantalizing little cunt. But the instance that I know …
“You wouldn’t dare,” I say through clenched teeth as she tightens her grip so painfully that I’m almost certain that she’s broken skin.
“Shall we find out tonight?” she whispers. “Perhaps while I speak to my grandson alone to learn the awful events of my granddaughter’s captivity?”
Her talons dig deeper into my arm and I double over over in pain as I try to free myself from her grip. But it’s no use. For a woman her age, she is remarkably strong. The vicious glint in her good eye seem to burn with a demonic fire, and I can’t stop myself from crying out in pain.
“What is the meaning of this!” Konstantin’s voice cracks through the air like a whip, and Alla quickly steps back.
I take the opportunity to withdraw my arm, and cover it with my free hand. I steal a glance at Alisa and see her still staring at the ground. Then I turn and see Konstantin storming towards us—shirtless and muscles glistening with sweat.
Gerasim follows behind, looking much the same way, but with a split lip that’s dripping blood.
“I was merely having a chat before dinner,” Alla says lightly, as if she hadn’t just berated Alisa to the point of crying or threatened to have her guards gang-rape me later.
“I thought I told you to stay away from my wife.” Konstantin’s voice is iron hard as he invades Alla’s space, forcing her to step back.
“You told me to stay away from her while you were gone,” she replies. “And since you were here well within sight, I followed your orders to the letter.” She pauses for a heartbeat before she spits out. “My pakhan.”
Konstantin looks down at me and sees the hand covering my arm. The anger in his ice-blue eyes is unmistakable. He snaps his fingers, and one of the attendants nearby rushes forward with a fresh towel. Gingerly, he pulls back my hand and reveal the angry nail-marks that Alla has left behind.
To my surprise, she didn’t break skin.
Of course not, I remind myself. She must’ve done this a hundred times.
“Are you alright?” he whispers at me.
“I will be,” I admit to him. “As long as you’re here.”
He nods. “I won’t leave you alone with her. I promise.”
“Shall we sit down for dinner, Kostya?” Alla clears her throat and turns around towards the castle. “I have so many things I want to discuss with you afterwards.”
As if on cue, her guards all turn around in unison with her. One of them gives me a lingering gaze, and I narrow my eyes furiously at him when the corner of his lips curls up. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Konstantin, and he looks between us as he tries to figure out just what the hell is going on.
“Kitty Cat?” he asks. “What is it?”
I want to tell him everything on my mind, but I can’t unstick my tongue from my mouth.
“Nothing.” I shake my head and stand up a little straighter and take his hand in mine. “Let’s go to dinner.”