Chapter 10
Ren
Inever thought I would be concerned that Nash wasn’t trying to grope me in class, but here we were. He hadn’t moved since he sat down—arms crossed, staring out the window, books untouched, frozen in time.
Mr. Romanovich had completed his lesson and given us free time to talk or study.
No one was studying, of course, choosing instead to chat, except for Nash.
He jumped when I touched his leg, looking at me with a harsh glare like he’d forgotten who was beside him. A second later, he snapped out of it.
“Careful, Princess. Class is close enough to finished for me to drag you out of here. I can spend my lunch eating something far more enjoyable than whatever the cafeteria is serving,” he said, and I lifted a brow at him.
Something I’d learned about my husband—God, that was strange to think about—he flirted the hardest when he was covering. They all did it to some degree, but Nash was a master.
“What’s going on? And don’t say it’s nothing.”
“Who says I’m not just daydreaming about getting you naked?”
With a sigh, I removed my hand from his leg and started putting my materials away. Nash threw his arm out to stop me. When I looked at him, his blue eyes were filled with an unreadable emotion.
“I’m just…grappling with some decisions,” he finally said, his voice soft so no one else could hear.
“Like what? You know you can tell me, right? I mean…we are literally tied together now.”
He sat back, ran his hand through his hair, and sighed. It made me want to hit him and knock some sense into his thick skull.
“Nash, I want to help.”
“I know, but no one can, not even you. Not yet anyway. I don’t blurt my feelings out like verbal diarrhea,” he growled, grabbing his untouched backpack and standing. Without another word, he marched for the door.
I packed my bag quickly and went after him. Mr. Romanovich didn’t notice or didn’t care that we were leaving. Nash was halfway down the hall to the doors.
“Nash,” I said, but he didn’t stop or slow down. I ran to catch him before he left the building and grabbed his arm. “Nash, stop.” He did, but he also didn’t look at me. “What is wrong? You’re worrying me.”
He slowly tilted his head down.
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say.”
“Try me. We’re supposed to be a team now, but I can’t help you if you keep me in the dark all the time.”
“Fuck, I can’t do this right now,” Nash growled, pushing through the door.
I let him go and watched him trudge through the snowstorm, unsure which was more volatile. Taking a deep breath, I pulled my sweater tighter around my shoulders and followed him out into the blizzard.
By the time I reached the dorms, I was soaked and shivering. Yanking open the door to the foyer, I let out a small scream as I was grabbed and spun around. In a blink, my back was against the wall, hands trapped over my head while Nash pressed his body into mine.
“You literally drive me insane, Princess,” he growled, before kissing me.
The chill from the storm was forgotten as my body heated from his touch and the world narrowed to him. He was as dangerous as the water he loved so much and just as easy to drown in. Releasing my hands, Nash cupped my cheeks, deepening the kiss and making me moan.
When we finally came up for air, I realized people were walking past us, giving us side glances as they went.
“Ignore them,” Nash ordered, and my eyes locked onto his. “I can’t tell you what’s going on with me right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you. I just need a bit of time to wrap my head around it first. Okay?”
“Okay. But just remember, I’ll never be a trophy wife. So you had better get used to me being involved and having an opinion, or this will never work.”
His lips turned up in a devilish grin.
“Say it again.”
“Say what again?”
“That you’re my wife, that you’re mine,” he whispered in my ear, and goosebumps rose all over my body, making me squirm.
“Your ego deposit has already been met. I only say it once a day,” I teased, and he chuckled.
“Fine, but for the record, you’ll always be my trophy.” He tipped my head up with his thumb, and his lips hovered over mine. “My sexy trophy that I’ll never stop worshipping.”
My husband was too damn tempting. I thought about taking him up on his offer to go upstairs, but the PA dinged. We both looked at the speaker above our heads when it called my name.
Nash looked at me, his face sobering.
“What is that about?”
“I don’t have a clue,” I said with a shrug. “I’ve never been summoned midday to the office.”
Nash linked his fingers with mine.
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
My nerves took over as we walked to the office. People watched us go like they knew the secret I didn’t. We stepped inside, but before we could say a word, Dean Henry’s voice came from our left.
“Come on in,” he said.
Dean Henry looked up when we came in and seemed surprised to see the two of us.
“Nash, you don’t need to be here,” Dean Henry said, but Nash tightened his grip on my hand.
“Whatever you need to say to me, you can say in front of him,” I said.
The dean glanced at our hands. I swore he smirked a little, but he had already gone back to the tea he was preparing.
“Very well, close the door.”
Nash let go of my hand, and the room felt smaller as he closed us in together. My anxiety poked at my brain and made my heart pound hard in my chest. The silence stretched on as Dean Henry sipped his tea.
“How are you doing,” Dean Henry asked, and I licked my lips.
“Sir, if this is bad news, I would prefer to skip the small talk.”
He nodded and returned to his desk, setting his tea down.
“I’m aware that you have been reconnecting with Edmundo…your father, but have the two of you spoken at all about your grandfather?”
My brows knit together. “Which one?”
“Your mother’s father. Vadin Mikhailov.”
A cold shiver traveled down my spine.
“Enough to know that he treated my parents terribly. I know that he is the reason my mother was forced to marry Christov instead of Eddie, if that is what you mean.”
He nodded and then pointed to a plain brown package, almost as tall as I was, leaning against the wall.
“That came for you,” Dean Henry said, sitting down.
I walked over to what I could only assume was some kind of framed art, based on the dimensions.
“Do I want to open this,” I asked, the internal thought blurting out.
“You certainly don’t have to, but it has been my experience that it’s better to know what is coming than to bury your head in the sand,” Dean Henry said, and I sighed, hating that he was right.
The brown paper tore away easily, revealing a box. I used my nail to cut the tape and then looked at Nash.
“Can you help pull it out?”
Nash grabbed the frame and gently pulled out the painting, while I held the box. He placed the piece on the floor and stepped back. My mouth dropped open as I stared at the brushstrokes. It was a signature I knew anywhere.
My mother had painted a phoenix, the wings a mix of every color as it rose from the flames and transformed into a woman. Tears pricked my eyes as I stared at the image depicting my mother and her fight for freedom.
Rise from the ashes. Always rise again.
“This was attached to the back,” Nash said, handing me a card with the name Lilya scribbled across the front.
Lilya,
It humbles me to write these words after so many silent years.
To learn that you are alive—and thriving—has awakened something in me I thought long gone.
Joy, yes, but also the ache of time I can never reclaim.
You are the echo of all I once loved, and learning of the woman you’ve become fills me with both pride and regret.
Your mother and I allowed pride to speak louder than love, and it cost us the bond our family deserved.
For that, I offer you my deepest apology.
The years have carved their lessons in my skin, and loss has been my only teacher.
I would trade all that remains of my days to rewrite those I wasted in anger.
Please accept this painting—your mother’s art, her soul in color—as my attempt to bridge what is broken. It is a small gesture, but it carries my heart. If you can find a way to forgive me, I would be honored to know you not as a stranger, but as my granddaughter.
S lyubov'yu i veroy v proshcheniye,
Dedushka Vadin
I reread the letter and then handed it to Nash. I didn’t know what to think. Everything I’d learned over the last year had painted Vadin as a ruthless businessman and killer, who put money and power above all else.
Were the words in the letter true? Did he really want to reconnect?
Or was this a ploy to draw me out so he could kill me?
Why send this now when so much had happened with Lawrence and Christov?
Was that how he knew I was alive? Did Christov call him and tell him, and now they were working together?
My head was full of questions, and my heart hurt to think such horrible things about a man who was supposed to love me. He was part of me, even if only biologically.
“Did you know he was going to reach out,” Nash asked, handing the letter to the dean.
“No,” Dean Henry said, simply.
Dean Henry finished reading the letter and set it aside. I stared into his calm eyes and asked the only question that came to mind.
“What do I do?”
He sighed and leaned back in his leather chair.
“That is up to you. This is not a decision anyone can make for you, but…I will say this—your mother wasn’t a stupid woman, whatever you decide…do it with caution.”
Well, if that wasn’t ominous as hell.
The phoenix drew my gaze back as my hand instinctively went to the snowflake tattoos on my neck.
What was coming for us now? I had no idea, but I knew that no matter what, I would rise from the ashes.
I looked up at Nash when he placed his hand on my lower back. No, we would all rise from the ashes.
My hand curled into a fist.
If Vadin and Christov were coming for me…let them come.