Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Riley
The dial tone pressed against my ear until my breathing grew ragged. Just when I thought I'd suffocate, someone picked up.
"What?" Matvey's voice crackled through the speaker.
How long had it been since I'd heard him?
Veronica shot me a glance.
"Darling." The word dripped from her full lips like honey. "Mind if I borrow your little assistant for the day?"
I stared at the phone by her ear like it was a fraying rope. If Matvey said something—anything—"She needs to stay and handle work," I'd do whatever he asked.
But he stayed silent.
Veronica sensed it too. She switched to Russian, her tone turning syrupy and intimate. I couldn't understand the words, but I heard the lilt at the end—like a purr.
Each second of waiting scraped me raw.
Finally, his voice came through. "Do whatever you want."
He crushed my last shred of hope into dust.
"Then come pick me up when you're done. Don't keep me waiting." Veronica's eyes curved into crescents, her cheeks flushed.
She looked happy. Was Matvey happy too?
"Fine." He didn't refuse.
Why would he? This was how it should be—him and Veronica. They'd do what couples do: shop together, eat together, sleep together. Maybe they'd even have another wedding. The thought made my chest feel tight and hollow.
The call ended. The office went quiet. Veronica looked at me with the smugness of someone who'd already won.
"Let's go." She slipped on her sunglasses.
Something slid from my chest and crashed at my feet. Hard. Heavy.
Veronica brought me to a clothing store—if you could call it that. To me, it looked more like a museum.
The air carried that expensive smell, the kind you can just tell costs money.
Crystal chandeliers lined the corridor, one after another.
Racks of exquisite gowns filled both sides, each price tag worth several years of my life.
They'd even divided the walkway—one side for men, one for women.
Even the staff at the entrance had model-worthy figures.
I walked carefully across the gleaming floor, terrified I'd dirty it. Rich people probably never got their shoes dirty.
By the time we reached the ready-to-wear section, I still hadn't figured out what to do with my hands.
"What can I get you, ladies?" A clerk approached with a practiced smile. "Coffee or juice?"
"Black coffee. No sugar." Veronica settled onto the leather sofa like she owned the place. "I'm cutting back."
The clerk's gaze shifted to me.
"Water... thanks." I tucked my chin.
"Any new arrivals?" She gestured lazily at several gowns. "Let me see those."
Staff rushed to retrieve them. She examined each one before selecting a piece and disappearing into the fitting room.
When she emerged in a silver gown, I almost forgot where I was. She looked like she'd stepped out of a painting, every movement graceful in a way I'd never known.
"Riley, what do you think?" She turned before the mirror, then looked at me. "Does it suit me?"
Honestly, her figure made everything look good.
"It does," I said. "Silver's elegant on you."
Without a word, she grabbed another dress and went back in.
"What about this one?" She appeared in a red evening gown. "How's this?"
The skirt was velvet, the fabric transitioning in a V-shape.
"I think this one's better," I said carefully. "Red brings out your complexion. The cut's more flattering too. And at a banquet with dim lighting, red stands out more than silver."
For someone aiming to be a designer, aesthetic judgment was required.
"That's your level of taste?" Her eyebrow arched, words sharp as knives. "Makes me wonder how a tacky little thing like you wormed your way into Bykov's design department."
The surrounding staff bit their lips and looked down, pretending they hadn't heard. My jaw clenched. I wanted to fight back.
But before I could speak, she raked her eyes over me from head to toe and crossed her arms. "Plain-looking. Even the company uniform looks cheap on you. Don't you worry about hurting the brand image?"
The cruelty stung my throat. With her looks, she could call ninety percent of women plain and poorly dressed. I smiled bitterly to myself.
She waved at a nearby clerk. "You—pick out some clothes for her. Let's see her try something on."
For a second, I thought my ears had failed me. I didn't buy her sudden generosity.
"I want to see if anything here can salvage that frumpy look."
Both clerks' faces twisted with discomfort. One circled me, studying, then shook her head.
"I'm sorry, ma'am." Her voice grew smaller. "We... we don't carry this lady's size."
The air froze.
Veronica blinked. Then she laughed.
"Did you hear that?" She covered her mouth, but her voice dripped with mockery. "They don't have anything that fits you. Riley, you're really... something."
Her words set my face on fire, burning until my eyes began to sting. I wished I could vanish.
Truth was, I knew perfectly well I could never squeeze into these beautiful clothes. Stores like this tailored everything for slender, willowy models. My body was round, full, bordering on plump.
But the acidic feeling crawled up my throat anyway.
"Done picking?" A low voice cut through the space.
I instinctively turned toward it. The man I hadn't seen in so long walked toward us.
Matvey looked the same as always. Tall. Imposing. Just standing there, he made the luxurious backdrop fade. He wore no tie, just a sharply tailored black suit with the collar slightly open, the familiar black Bulgari watch on his wrist.
He walked right up to me. My heart fell with each step. But he didn't pause for a second, passing me by, taking that familiar scent of cedar and tobacco with him.
I stood there, lost, not sure which hurt more—being mocked earlier or being ignored now.
He stopped beside Veronica.
"You're finally here." She leaned against his shoulder, voice sweet and soft. "I've been picking forever, but I still can't decide."
Her fingertip traced down the lines of his suit. When she reached his abdomen, Matvey gently caught her wandering hand—like he was indulging her public mischief. The image pierced my tear ducts.
Matvey had touched my face with those hands. Kneaded my body. Set me on fire night after night.
Now his touch belonged to someone else.
I wished I could delete every memory of him. Then maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.
"Try whatever you want." Matvey released her hand. "Can't pick a favorite? Buy them all."
Veronica's gaze lingered on him before she reluctantly retreated to the fitting room. After the door closed, only elegant music filled the silence. Matvey and I stood a few steps apart, but it felt like an ocean between us.
His gaze landed on me. I quickly looked away, foolishly thinking that avoiding eye contact would spare me new trouble. I was dead wrong.
He was watching me—even without meeting his eyes, I felt the heat of his stare.
"Riley." He called my name.
That voice that could still make me weak.
"Yes, Mr. Bykov?" I had to look up.
He was still my boss. Still my transaction partner.
"You've been crying?" His brow furrowed deep.
Damn it, when did I cry? I rubbed my eyes hard. Good—no wetness.
"It's nothing. I'm fine." I turned my head away.
"Look at me, Riley." His tone turned commanding.
"Really, it's nothing." I didn't move.
He didn't care about me anyway. Why bother asking?
But he didn't seem ready to let it go. He closed the distance step by step until his shadow swallowed me whole.
I held my breath. That sharp cedar scent nearly stole my sanity. I backed away with each advance until I hit the wall—nowhere left to go. I had no choice but to meet those gray-green eyes. For a moment, his gaze seemed to strip me bare.
"Your eyes are red." He reached toward my face.
I froze. Didn't even blink. His fingertips hovered inches from my cheek. I could feel the warmth from his palm heating my skin. My eyes went wet.
Every sound disappeared. I closed my eyes, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
"Darling—" Veronica's voice yanked me back to reality.
My eyes snapped open. Matvey's hand had already withdrawn.
"Help me with the zipper? I can't reach." Veronica poked her head from the fitting room, straps hanging off her shoulders.
"Hurry up." His tone was curt, but he still walked over and zipped her up with practiced ease. "I've got work."
Matvey's gaze didn't return to me, as if none of it had happened.
God knows what I'd been thinking. I thought his fingers would land at the corner of my eye, like in those moments that belonged only to us, and he'd wipe away my tears. I'd even tilted my face up, waiting for his touch.
But I'd been deluding myself. I tipped my head back, forcing the moisture back into my eyes.
"Ugh, this is so hard to choose." Veronica checked herself in the mirror, shaking out the skirt.
"Send all the dresses she tried to her apartment." Matvey crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on Veronica.
The staff immediately sprang into action.
Veronica's hand curled around Matvey's forearm.
"Oh, right," she said suddenly, as if remembering something. Her eyes shifted. "Let's bring Riley to next week's banquet too. Give her a taste of high society."
So Matvey was attending her family banquet with her? I knew this would happen, but I didn't think it'd come so fast.
Matvey's gaze swept over me.
"I—" I started to refuse, but Matvey cut me off.
"Whatever makes you happy." He said it to her.
My stomach cramped. He really loved Veronica. Whatever she asked, he seemed ready to give.
"Go back on your own. We still have things to do." Veronica tossed out the words and walked away on Matvey's arm.
Leaving me frozen in place.