Chapter 22 Roman
ROMAN
Ipour two fingers of whiskey and take it to the window and stand there looking out at the south lawn while I dial Vera's number.
I'm not thrilled to be calling her, but in order for my plan to work well, I have to ensure she's playing her part.
The only way to do this is to string her along, make her think I'm actually considering her foolish proposal.
"Roman," she purrs in manufactured warmth that disgusts me. "I was hoping you'd call. It's been too long."
"Hello, Vera. How have you been?" Cordiality is the bane of my existence with this woman. The things I'd love to do to her for what she's done to Mila are so unspeakable, I won't allow myself to think them while I'm on the phone with her.
I can hear her settling into a chair, getting comfortable. "Tell me you've gotten rid of that girl by now. She's been nothing but a problem since I met her father."
"Mila's not your problem, Vera. She works for me now." Her hatred for Anton's offspring should’ve clued him in to how evil she is immediately, but they say love is blind. I guess Radin was a fool too, to love a woman like her.
"I don't understand why. She has no place in your household, Roman. She's not one of my daughters and she has nothing to offer you. Send her back to me and let's focus on what's actually—"
"That's not why I'm calling." I take a sip of the whiskey and pace to the other side of the room and back. I'm not interested in a pissing match, and I won't send Mila back to that home to be manipulated any more. "I'm calling to confirm that you and the girls will be at the gala."
"Of course we'll be there. Sofi and Sabine have been looking forward to it for weeks. They had a wonderful time the other day, by the way. They couldn't stop talking about it."
I'm sure they couldn't. The memory of last week turns my stomach—Sofi climbing into my lap at the dinner table and Sabine pressing herself against my arm and running her fingers through my hair and both of them so aggressive that I had to physically remove them from my body more than once.
I smiled through it to keep them on the hook, but the thought of doing it again makes me want to down the whole bottle of whiskey and knock myself out.
"They were very enthusiastic," I tell her, keeping it at that. Those girls have a lot of growing up to do. I wouldn't even think of taking them to my bed, not even at the same time—and that's just about every man's fantasy.
"They're passionate women. You'll appreciate that quality once you've made your decision." She pauses and then says, "Speaking of which, where's your head at these days? A mother likes to prepare her daughter for good news."
"Oh, now, you wouldn't want me to spoil the secret, would you?" Here's where I begin to get some satisfaction. This game of cat and mouse escalated to another level when I learned who Vera really is. She thinks she's the cat, and I've got her right where I want her.
"Not even a hint?"
"Not even a hint. But I'll be making a significant announcement at the gala. In front of everyone. I'd expect you to be surprised, and I hope you'll approve of my choice."
"You're torturing me, Roman." Vera snickers, and I picture her pawing at the air in feigned innocence. But I suspect internally, she's roiling with anxious tension. She wants to sink her claws into my fortune and she wants it now. Waiting is torture to her.
"Oh, I think you'll be very surprised."
"Well, I trust your judgment. And I'm confident you'll make the right decision for both our families."
"Yes, well, I have to run. I'm glad to hear you'll be attending. Wear something nice, won't you? Can't have you in the spotlight if you're underdressed." In a bright orange jumpsuit… I want to add, but I bite my tongue.
"Oh, you devilish man." She cackles again, a little too reminiscent of Sabine's obnoxious snickering, and I end the call and set the phone on the nightstand. The remainder of the whiskey goes down smoothly as I stand in the center of my room and try to let tension roll off my back.
I haven't seen Mila in days—I've been too busy.
Before that, she was sick, throwing up and too sick to serve dinner.
Rebecca told me she'd been in bed for most of the week.
I didn't push it because if Mila is really sick, I can't have her up and about sharing germs. But it's been long enough now that her absence is starting to get under my skin, and I'm craving interaction.
Besides, I have to tell her my thoughts.
So I send Yegor a text to bring her to me, and minutes later, there's a knock.
Yegor opens the door and Mila walks in dressed in gray sweatpants and an oversized T-shirt.
Her hair is pulled back and her face is bare.
She looks tired and closed off and she still makes me hard the second she walks through the door.
"That's all," I tell Yegor, and he leaves and closes the door behind him.
Mila stands near the doorway with her arms folded and doesn't come farther into the room. Her eyes go to the whiskey glass in my hand and then to the bed and then to the window, and she doesn't look at me directly.
"How are you feeling?" I ask.
"Better."
"You still look a little tired," I say softly, hoping she doesn't take it the wrong way. After traveling, I hoped to invite her to my bed tonight. Sharing my thoughts with her should be special, not just a business meeting. What I'm offering will affect her, and I hope it will be a positive thing.
"Thanks for that," she grumbles, rolling her eyes, and I know she's insulted.
"Come sit down." I nod toward the bed.
"I'm fine here."
"Mila."
"I said I'm fine." Her arms tighten across her chest. "What do you want, Roman?"
"I want you to come to bed with me." I set the glass on the nightstand and loosen my tie. My body is ready to go, but I'm willing to take my time to help her get in the mood. The chemistry we have is electric. Surely, she'll want more of what I've already given her.
"I can't. I have my period." Mila's head drops, and I watch her shoulders slump.
As far as I know, she's not had a period yet, though I don’t stalk her cycles.
It makes sense, and it's logical. It's disappointing, though. I wanted her, and while it wouldn’t bother me one bit, if she's not comfortable, I won’t pressure her.
"At least come sit down," I say again. "I need to talk to you." So my plan to ease her into this isn't going to work the way I thought. She still needs to hear it from me before that gala.
"Tell me from there."
So damn frustrating. Why can't she let me do something nice for her?
Why does she have to be so damn stubborn?
"Fine, I've been thinking about this for a while now and it doesn't make sense to marry one of the Koval women and hope the family holds together for another two and a half years until you turn twenty-five and the inheritance passes to Vera by default.
" Mila's eyes widen, but she still doesn't look up at me.
"It's a bad plan. It has too many variables and too many ways for Vera to undermine it. "
Her eyes snap to mine and she snips, "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you and your inheritance, Mila. I know you have to be married before you turn twenty-five and—"
"I know how my father's will works, Roman."
"Then you know it's a losing proposition for both of us.
" I take a few steps toward her. "I get nothing out of this arrangement for three more years, unless I marry you.
" It's coming out wrong and I know it. I'm not a man of great tact by any means, but this takes the cake.
I watch her wilt a little, lip trembling as she stares at me.
"If I marry you, I assume leadership of the Radin family now.
Not in two and a half years. You claim your inheritance early because you've fulfilled the marriage condition, and the assets transfer to you before Vera can redirect them.
The family stays together under my authority and your name, and Vera loses her grip on everything she's been trying to steal. "
It makes sense to me and gives her everything now without waiting. And the world will know we're together then. She'll be mine in every sense of the word, and she'll share my bed and be my queen instead of my servant.
"You're out of your mind," she hisses, shaking her head.
"It's a win for both of us, Mila. I get the family and you get what your father left you, and Vera gets nothing."
"You think I want to marry you so you can claim my entire empire? Like some stupid business proposal?" When she says it like that, it stings. That's not how I see it, but it is part of it.
"Mila, it's in your best interests."
She stomps toward me and slaps me across the face, and I immediately bring my hand up to my jaw. Her eyes are filled with tears, chest heaving, and her fists are shaking at her sides.
"I don't want the power," she says, trembling. "I want nothing to do with my father's money. You could've asked me what I wanted at any point in the last two months and you never did. Not once."
"Mila—"
"I won't marry you for an inheritance, Mr. Kuzin." She backs toward the door and her hand finds the handle behind her. "You can't give me what I want. And the fact that you don't even know what that is tells me I'd never want to be your wife, either."
She opens the door and storms out as I stand there holding my cheek, wondering what I said. I am offering to marry her, to make her the queen of my world. What the fuck does she want?
I stare at the door and my chest tightens.
Every word she said ricochets in my skull.
I’ve offered her everything—my name, my power, my world—and it doesn’t matter.
She’s gone, and with her, whatever I thought I understood about her.
She doesn’t want the crown I’m holding out.
She wants something I can’t even name, something I can’t see.
I replay her words, her tone, the way she moved—like she could vanish into the air and I’d be left holding nothing. And maybe I am. Maybe all I’ve ever wanted from her isn’t what she wants at all.