41. Mara
41
MARA
“ O ur relationship has been a whirlwind, but gosh…” A quick stab of jealousy ripples the air as Veronika locks her loved-up eyes with the camera and says, “When you know, you know.”
“And you know?” I have mad respect for the reporter when she murmurs, “ Already. ”
Veronika’s eyes narrow into thin slits. “Whatever do you mean? We’ve been dating for almost a month.”
“A month?” The entertainment reporter doing live interviews with the attendees of Ark’s fortieth birthday checks a notepad before saying, “My calculations are closer to a week.”
“That’s just silly,” Veronika replies, her voice suddenly not so chipper. “We had a slight bump at the start of our courtship, but Ark took care of that in less than a weekend. It’s been smooth sailing ever since.” She leans in close like there aren’t millions of viewers hanging off her every word. “Between you and me, you’ll find out just how serious things are later tonight.”
When she wiggles her fingers to highlight the only one missing a ring is her engagement finger, I switch off the television and dump the remote on my scratched coffee table.
My decision to turn down Mrs. Whitten’s position was challenging, but the footage broadcast across the globe tonight exposes that staying would have been more difficult.
It hurt standing across from Ark for five minutes, so I wouldn’t have survived being under the same roof as him day in and day out. I would have continually wondered about the reason behind his decision to pull on the reins and possibly take responsibility for issues not solely mine to bear.
I pushed Ark to open up to me, but it seems as if there are more significant issues beyond revealed secrets keeping us apart.
If I had the courage, I would seek answers.
Since I don’t, I shoot my hands up to my hair and groan.
I’m close to pulling my hair out when a little voice reminds me that I’m not alone to sulk in my misery as I have been for the past week. “He doesn’t love her.”
I drag my eyes away from the black television screen to Tillie, who is sitting on the floor, making fan-cast collages from the glossy magazines Mrs. Lichard devours every week.
Tillie continues cutting Veronika out of an image of her and Ark at a charity dinner earlier this week. “I don’t even think he likes her.”
“Of course he likes her,” I deny. “He wouldn’t date her if he didn’t like her.”
“Then why won’t he let her touch him?”
My heart thumps into my ears when she places down the magazine she’s dismantling to find one under a stack of many. She flicks to a two-page spread of Ark and Veronika’s courtship before highlighting an image not even a photoshop expert could piece together.
The sign at the back of Ark’s and Veronika’s heads don’t match since several words are missing from the middle of the slogan.
“It’s the same in every photo.” My heart slowly crawls out of the hole it was buried in last week when she flicks through endless articles printed about Ark over the last few days. “He won’t touch her. He refuses.”
The image at the top of the stack shows Ark’s hand hovering inches from Veronika’s back. Even if she suddenly stopped walking down the red carpet she was commanding like a model does a catwalk, his hand wouldn’t have gotten close to making contact.
“Then there’s this image.” My heart launches into my throat when she thrusts a magazine to within an inch of my face. “He had no trouble touching this woman.”
Tears prick my eyes when I remove the magazine from her grasp to drink in an image I had no clue had been taken. The reporter of the story is claiming the headless, almost X-rated photograph is of Ark and Veronika seeking outfits for their alleged upcoming engagement party. I know that isn’t true.
The person photographed with Ark isn’t Veronika. It’s me. My heart knows this, and so does Tillie, because if she hadn’t barged into the changing room where Ark was assisting me with removing the dress he had purchased for me, the paparazzo’s shot would have been far more risqué.
“That’s you,” Tillie announces, unashamed. She licks her lips before locking her too-worldly-for-her-age eyes with mine. “He won’t touch her”—she growls, baring teeth while lowering her eyes to Veronika’s photo—“but he had no trouble touching you. That has to mean something.”
There’s too much hope firing through me not to try to downplay it. “Touching someone without permission isn’t kosher. Perhaps he’s trying to be respectful of Veronika’s boundaries.”
Her brows furrow. “So he asked you if he could kiss you before he did?”
I cough to smooth out the scratchiness impinging my throat from her question before acting daft. “I beg your pardon?” I say with a laugh, stupidly nervous.
“When Ark kissed you in the doorway of our home, did he ask first?”
I’m tempted to lie, but I can’t. “No, he didn’t.”
Tillie smiles in gratitude for my honesty. “Because you wanted him to kiss you as much as he wanted to kiss you.”
“Til—”
“Just say it, Mom. Admit he wanted to touch you.”
“I… I…” I’ve got nothing, so I revert to a tactic I will always use to get my way. I remind her that I am her mother before anything else. “It is almost bedtime. Have you brushed your teeth yet?”
“No, but?—”
“No buts, young lady. Oral health is important.” I stack her magazines into a pile, announcing the end of her collaging for today, before nudging my head to the bathroom. “I will join you in a minute.”
She huffs, but that is as far as her protest goes.
As her stomps sound down the hallway, I rub at the kink my neck hasn’t been without the past week. It’s only been seven days since Ark pressed on the brakes, but it honestly feels like ten years.
I’m angry and hormonal and not fit for visitors, so why the hell is someone banging on my door like they’re about to conduct a raid?
I try not to let Tillie’s assumption that Ark dislikes Veronika so much he refuses to touch her quicken my steps, but I race for the door so fast I almost trip over my feet.
As my heart is hoping, an Orlov stands on the other side of my door. It isn’t the one I want, but thankfully, it isn’t the one who could give Veronika’s claim that I was just a bump in Ark’s path validity.
“Riley… what are you doing here?” I peer past her to make sure she is alone before opening my door further, wordlessly inviting her inside.
She enters slowly, her footing unsteady. “Is Tillie here?”
Her concern for my daughter reminds me that the actions of others should never be placed on the shoulders of a victim.
I nod before gesturing my head to the bathroom. “She’s brushing her teeth.”
“Okay. Good.” She takes a deep breath before blurting out a ton of words without stopping for air. “Everything happening is my fault. When Ark came to see me, I pushed him to admit the truth and used you as an example about how telling isn’t always a bad thing. I thought I got through to him. The way he spoke about you and the things he said made me hopeful your relationship would get better, and then…” She stops, more to hold back a sob than breathe. “I ruined everything, and I don’t know how to make it right.”
“It isn’t your job to make it right.”
“Yes, it is,” she counters, her eyes wet and pleading. “He loves you, Mara, but instead of living his happily-ever-after with you, he’s going to propose to that witch to protect you.”
It hurts to hear that he’s planning to propose to Veronika, but I’m too confused to dwell on jealousy. “How will that protect me?”
For someone seemingly capable of talking underwater, it takes Riley several long seconds to whisper, “From what I overheard, Veronika is as bad as our mother…” Lines burrow in her forehead. “My grandmother.” She nudges her head to the door barely concealing the faint hum of a child brushing her teeth. “She has images and is threatening to expose the nature of Tillie’s conception to her millions of followers.”
I’m disgusted at the lengths some women will go. “She can’t do that. There are laws against naming underage victims of a crime.”
“Veronika doesn’t care. She thinks she’s untouchable.”
I almost pfft until I recall how much power she is currently yielding. She has a man as powerful and wealthy as Ark bowing at her feet. I’d feel above the law as well if I were her.
Riley’s hands shake when she gathers mine and squeezes them tight. “Please come to the party with me. You’re the only person capable of getting through to Ark. He will listen to you.”
“I can’t.” I want to believe her theory that I have more power over Ark than Veronika does, but I would be foolish to do that. “If I go and Veronika does as she’s threatening, it will hurt Tillie. She doesn’t know about her father?—”
I choke back a sob when a faint voice from behind whispers, “Yes, I do.” As my wet eyes bounce between a pair almost identical, Tillie slowly exits the bathroom. “You named me Matilda because that’s the team you wanted to play for when you went pro. You said they were the cream of the crop when you attended an international comp just shy of your fourteenth birthday.” A tear plops down my cheek when she says, “There was only one time a Russian female soccer team played in an international tournament. It was just shy of your fourteenth birthday.” She switches some of my sad tears to tears of happiness. “We look so alike Mrs. Lichard thought I had forgotten to tell her I had started playing soccer when she saw the article I searched up on my Nintendo.” She looks remorseful for my tears, and I hate myself for it. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have snooped. I just wanted to know who my dad was and why you never spoke about him.”
“Oh, baby. It’s okay. I should have never kept it from you.” I pull her into my chest so my shirt can catch her tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I need you to know that, okay? I should have been honest. Then you wouldn’t have needed to snoop.”
God. I hate myself. The name on her birth certificate is heavily associated with charges filed against Dr. Babkin in the months following his death. Although he was dead, there was plenty of evidence for a civil suit.
His victims were awarded a majority of his multimillion-dollar estate two years after his death. I didn’t come forward to claim my share because I had already been given my reward for years of hurt.
I had a daughter with a smile brighter than the sun.
My heart pains wondering how Tillie handled such harsh news without any support.
It must have torn her to shreds.
As I walk her toward the couch, I ask, “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about anything you saw? You can ask me anything you want, and I will tell you the truth. I promise.”
Her strength shocks me when she lifts her head to peer up at me. Her cheeks are tear-free. “I have a handful of questions.”
With her reply seemingly unfinished, I say, “But…”
“But…” It isn’t time for dramatics, but Tillie wouldn’t be Tillie if she didn’t test out her acting skills at any given opportunity. “They can wait until after we come back.”
I stare at her with my brows pulled together. We’re going somewhere?
The truth hits me hard and fast when she nudges her head to the left. I was so focused on making sure my secrets didn’t irrefutably scar my daughter that I forgot we have a guest.
“Riley…” Gosh. She knows exactly what Tillie is going through and what she could possibly go through in the future, and I’m grateful she was here for this.
I doubt she will ever hear the words I spoke to Tillie from her “mother,” but I need her to know that Mrs. Orlov’s response will never be the norm.
She is also the best person to help me guide Tillie through this, second only to the man who commenced fighting for her before he had even officially met her.
My heart rate soars when it dawns on me what I must do.
I need to make this right.
I need Tillie, Ark, and Riley to know that they didn’t do anything wrong, and I know exactly where to start my campaign to make things right.
While pulling an invitation out of the drawer I stuffed it in last week, I say, “You are to stay by mine or Riley’s side the entire time. No questions asked.”
Tillie fights not to mentally high-five herself.
Riley’s eyes widen to the size of saucers.
“Me? You want to leave her under my care?” When I nod, Riley scoffs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I lessen the terror hardening her features with ten short words. “A mother knows who she can leave her children with.”
“Yeah, but I’m… different . I’m?—”
Her eyes snap to mine when I interrupt. “Trustworthy. I trust you, Riley.”
With her shock too high to communicate, Tillie rejoins our conversation. “And she really hates trashy teen dramas, so it is the perfect time for us to binge-watch Heartbreak High on my Nintendo while she gets her man.”
Determined to get her way, Tillie snatches up her Nintendo and drags Riley out of our apartment before a single protest can leave her lips.
Our plan hits a snag when we exit my building. “I can’t let you do whatever you’re planning to do, Ms. Malenkov. Ark?—”
“Isn’t giving orders tonight, Darius. So how about you either step aside and let us hail a cab, or drive us to where we need to go.”
“Riley—”
“It’s Ms. Orlov,” Riley snaps out, her sass giving Tillie’s a run for its money. “And the last time I checked, Orlov & Associates pays your wages.”
I thought Ark was bossy. He’s got nothing on Darius’s stubbornness. “I have orders?—”
“That have now changed.” Rafael left me to drown only days ago, but I’ll take any life vest he throws out now if it gets me to Ark’s birthday party before he nosedives his career for someone unworthy of his time. “Take them wherever they need to go, Darius.”
“Thank you,” I mouth to Rafael before slipping into the back of the SUV Darius is holding open for us.