45. Forty-Five
FORTY-FIVE
HARLOWE
Istared at the door, my nerves raw and exposed. My father’s words about my mother echoed in my head, poisoning what should have been the happiest day of my life. I paced the room in my silk robe, the “Mrs. Romanov” embroidery catching the light each time I turned.
The door finally opened, and Arrow strode in, stopping dead when he saw me.
Even in my agitated state, I couldn’t help but notice how devastating he looked in his half-dressed state—dress pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone.
His eyes darkened as they swept over me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, closing the door behind him.
“My father came to see me,” I said, watching his face carefully for any reaction. “He told me to ask you about the night my mother died.”
Arrow went perfectly still, his expression shuttering closed. That reaction alone made my stomach drop.
“What did he tell you?” Arrow’s voice was controlled, measured.
“That the Romanovs were involved somehow. That you know what happened.” I stepped closer, searching his face. “He’s lying, right? Tell me he’s lying.”
Arrow’s jaw tightened, that muscle jumping beneath his skin. “It’s complicated.”
The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet. “Complicated?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. “My mother’s suicide is ‘complicated’?”
He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect styling. “Your father is trying to manipulate you. Today of all days.”
“Then tell me the truth,” I demanded. “No more secrets. No more half-truths. What happened to my mother?”
Arrow moved to the window, staring out at the city below. For a long moment, he said nothing, and I felt the silence stretching between us like a chasm.
“It was after Luca died,” he finally said, his voice low. “A charity gala. Your mother was there.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “And?”
“She was beautiful. Sad. Luca’s death broke her. She drank too much champagne and talked too freely.” His eyes met mine in the reflection of the window. “She told me things. About your father. About the man he really was.”
“What things, Arrow?” I whispered, though part of me didn’t want to know.
Arrow turned to face me. “Things you already know. He was a monster to her as much as to you. She knew that your father was making plans to sell you like a broodmare to the highest bidder, and he had his mind set on the Albanians.”
The Albanians had a reputation for brutality that made even the Romanovs seem tame. I’d heard stories of their men treating their wives like property—worse than property. I swallowed hard, trying to process what Arrow was telling me.
“My mother knew about this?”
“She knew everything.” Arrow’s voice softened. “She told me she couldn’t protect you anymore. That she was too weak, too broken after Luca. She begged me to look out for you when she was gone.”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “You spoke to my mother the night she died?”
“I drove her home from the gala,” Arrow admitted, his eyes never leaving mine. “She was too drunk to drive herself. Your father wasn’t there—business in Miami. She invited me in for coffee to sober up.”
A terrible suspicion began forming in my mind. “And then what happened?”
“We talked for hours. About you. About Luca. About the life she wished she could have given you.” His jaw tightened. “She told me that your father had already started negotiations with the Albanians. That in a year or two, you’d be married off to cement an alliance.”
My stomach turned.
“She was desperate,” Arrow continued, his voice dropping lower. “She knew what that life would do to you.”
“Did you . . .” I couldn’t finish the question, the words stuck in my throat.
“No,” Arrow said firmly. “I didn’t kill your mother, Harlowe. But I didn’t stop her either.”
My legs felt weak. I sank into the nearest chair, gripping the arms to steady myself. “What are you saying?”
Arrow knelt before me, his eyes level with mine.
“She had pills filled with arsenic. She’d been planning it for weeks.
She asked me to stay with her, to make sure she wasn’t alone at the end.
” His voice cracked slightly. “I tried to talk her out of it. But she was determined. She said it was the only way she could protect you.”
“By leaving me alone with him?” The words came out as a broken whisper.
“By making me promise to watch over you. To make sure you didn’t end up with the Albanians.” Arrow took my hands in his. “She made me swear I would find a way to save you from that fate, even if it meant making you hate me.”
Tears slid down my cheeks, ruining my carefully applied makeup. “You watched my mother die.”
“I held her hand,” Arrow corrected gently. “I made sure her last moments weren’t spent alone. And I’ve kept my promise to her ever since.”
I pulled my hands away, standing up to put distance between us. “All these years, you knew. You’ve been watching me. Planning.”
“Not at first,” Arrow said, rising to his feet. “You were so broken when she died. But as you grew older, I watched from a distance. Made sure you were safe. When your father started negotiations with the Albanians again last year, I knew it was time.”
I stared at him, my world tilting on its axis. Everything I thought I knew about my mother’s death, about Arrow, about this marriage—it was all unraveling before my eyes.
“So this marriage,” I whispered, “it was never about peace between our families. It was never about humiliating my father. It was about a promise you made to my dying mother.”
Arrow took a step toward me, but I backed away. I needed space to think, to breathe.
“It started that way,” he admitted. “But it became something else. Something I never expected.”
“And when were you planning to tell me?” I demanded, anger rising through my grief. “After the wedding? Never?”
“I was protecting you—“
“From what?” I shouted, not caring if anyone outside heard. “The truth? That my mother killed herself to try to save me from the Albanians? That you’ve been manipulating my life from the shadows for years?”
Arrow’s jaw tightened. “I’ve never lied to you, Harlowe.”
“Lies of omission are still lies,” I hissed. “You should have told me.”
“And what would you have done?” he challenged, his voice rising to match mine. “If I’d approached you three years ago and told you I’d held your mother’s hand while she died? That I’d been keeping tabs on you since? Would you have trusted me, or would you have tried to put a bullet in my head?”
I turned away, unable to look at him. He was right, and we both knew it. I would have hated him even more than I already did.
“You had no right,” I said, my voice breaking. “She had no right to make that decision for me.”
“She was trying to protect you the only way she knew how.”
I laughed bitterly. “By abandoning me? By leaving me with him?”
“She knew you were stronger than she was,” Arrow said quietly. “She knew you would survive him.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the room. “And all this time, my father knew you were there that night?”
“He suspected. He had his men investigate her death thoroughly. One of the staff saw my car in the driveway.”
I closed my eyes, piecing it all together. “So when you approached him about this marriage . . .”
“I suspect he saw an opportunity,” Arrow finished for me. “To place you in my household as his spy. To finally get revenge for what he believed was my role in your mother’s death.”
“And what about you?” I asked, finally turning to face him again. “What did you get out of this arrangement?”
Arrow’s eyes held mine. “I got you.”
“Me,” I whispered. “The girl you watched from afar. The daughter of your enemy. The sister of the man your uncle murdered.”
“The woman I couldn’t stop thinking about,” he corrected, taking a step closer. “The woman who was never afraid, even when she should have been. The woman who deserves more than being traded like property.”
I shook my head, trying to process everything. My mother hadn’t just abandoned me—she’d made arrangements. She’d extracted promises. She’d tried, in her broken way, to secure me a future.
“You lied to me! Last night you told me there would be no more secrets, and here you are, keeping the biggest one of all.” I wiped my eyes with trembling fingers, trying to steady myself.
“My father had to tell me about my mother. My fucking father, Arrow! You would have taken that to the grave with you, wouldn’t you? ”
Arrow moved closer, his hands coming up to frame my face, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“Yes.”
The honesty of it stung worse than the lie.
“Why?” I whispered.
“I made a promise to your mother.”
“What?”
“She asked me to protect you from the truth of how she died. She didn’t want you to know the true extent of what your father was capable of.”
My chest tightened. “And you just . . . agreed?”
“I agreed because I was a different man then. One who could make promises to dead women without it costing him anything.” His jaw clenched.
“I never thought I’d fall in love with you, Harlowe.
I thought you’d be a business arrangement.
Something to warm my cock. A means to a fucking end.
And then you became something I couldn’t afford to lose.
” He pulled me closer, his forehead against mine.
“I kept that promise because I was selfish. Because I knew if I told you the truth, if I was the one to shatter that image of your father, you’d hate me.
Or worse—you’d break entirely, and I . .
.” His voice dropped to barely a whisper.
“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to fix you.
That you’d slip through my fingers and I’d never get you back. ”
Searching his face, I looked for deception, for manipulation, for the cold calculation I’d come to expect from the men in my life. But all I saw was raw honesty—a vulnerability I’d never witnessed in him before.