11. Vera
VERA
Isit on the edge of the bed for a long time. Roman doesn’t push me.
My mind keeps circling back to the same question. Marry him and stay bound to this world forever, or marry Anton instead. Neither option is acceptable. Both feel like a trap.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. The penthouse is quiet around me, all glass and steel and cold surfaces. It doesn’t feel like a home.
Roman stares at me. He’s rolling the sleeves of his black button-down up to his elbows. The motion draws my eyes to his forearms, to the way the muscles shift beneath his skin.
I look away.
“I have calls to make,” he says. “Security arrangements and such.”
I nod but don’t respond.
He crosses the room to where I’m sitting and stops in front of me. His hand comes up and tilts my chin so I’m forced to meet his eyes.
“This isn’t a trap,” he says quietly. “I know it feels like one, but I’m trying to give you options.”
“Options that benefit you.”
“Options that keep you alive.” His thumb brushes across my jaw and I hate the way my pulse jumps in response. “You have three weeks to decide. Better decide quickly.”
He drops his hand and walks out. A moment later, I hear his office door close.
I stay where I am for another few minutes. Then I reach for my phone. My father answers on the third ring.
“Vera.” His voice is careful. He’s not alone. I can hear the soft murmur of voices in the background. “This is unexpected.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Can it wait? I’m in the middle of?—”
“No.” My voice comes out harder than I intend. “It can’t wait.”
There’s a pause. When he speaks again, his voice is lower. “What’s wrong?”
“A lot of things.” I take a breath. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.”
“When have I ever lied to you?”
I almost laugh. When hasn’t he? He lied about Dmitri, claimed he was a good man with a heart beneath the steel. What a lie that had turned out to be.
“Anton Grishin,” I say instead. “Is he being considered as my next husband?”
The silence on the other end of the line is answer enough. Then, “How did you hear about that?”
“Konstantin told me at dinner last night.” I grip the phone tighter. “Is it true?”
“Vera, these things are complicated?—”
“Is it true?”
Another pause. Then, quietly, “Yes.”
I close my eyes. Of course it’s true. I knew it was true the moment Konstantin said it. Some small part of me had hoped I was wrong, but that would have been too easy.
“He’s been chosen by the elders,” my father continues. “They see him as the proper match. It makes sense.”
“It makes sense.” I repeat the words and they taste like ash in my mouth. “You’re telling me it makes sense to hand me over to another man I didn’t choose?”
“I’m telling you that this is how our world works. You knew that when you married Dmitri.”
“I married Dmitri because you owed him money. I didn’t know what I was getting into!”
“You knew enough.” His voice hardens. “You knew the kind of family you were marrying into. You knew the expectations.”
I didn’t. I was twenty years old and drowning in my father’s debts. I had no idea what I was agreeing to, but there’s no point in arguing about it now.
I want nothing more than to reach through the phone and shake him until he tells me everything he knows. Except I’ve learned over the years that pushing my father only makes him retreat further.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?” I ask.
“Just this: be careful. Roman Volkonsky is a dangerous man. He’s calculating and ruthless and he doesn’t do anything without a reason.”
“You say that as if Anton isn’t dangerous?”
“I didn’t say that. I said Roman is different. He has... interests that go beyond what’s best for the family. For you.”
“What kind of interests?”
“The kind you should be wary of.” My father’s voice drops even lower. “I need to go. Call me if you need anything.”
“Wait—”
It’s too late, because he’s already hung up.
I set the phone down and stare at it. My hands are shaking.
I know what Roman says he’s after. The ledger, revenge, his rightful place in the family. What if there’s more? What if the ninety days were never the point?
I think about the way he looked at me when he proposed. There was a manic look in his eyes that I don’t trust.
I get up and pace the room. My body feels restless. Every time I think about Roman’s proposal, about the idea of becoming his wife, a strange heat curls through my belly.
I hate that after everything Dmitri put me through, after three years of flinching every time a man raised his voice, I can still feel desire. Still want something I shouldn’t.
Except Roman isn’t Dmitri. That’s what makes this harder. Dmitri never looked at me the way Roman does, like I’m something precious. Dmitri never touched me the way Roman does either.
I stop pacing and press my hands to my face. My skin feels hot. My pulse is racing.
Three weeks. Roman gave me three weeks to decide.
Three weeks of living in this penthouse with him, of seeing him every day, of trying to ignore the pull between us. Worse, three weeks of pretending I don’t want him to touch me again.
These are going to be the longest three weeks of my life.
I change into workout clothes I find in the closet. Oksana must have packed them. I head for the small gym at the other end of the penthouse. Maybe if I exhaust myself physically, my mind will stop spinning.
The gym is at the end of the hall, a sleek space with floor-to-ceiling windows and state-of-the-art equipment. I start on the treadmill, setting a pace that’s faster than I usually run. My feet pound the belt and I try to focus on the rhythm, on anything except the man in the next room.
It doesn’t work.
Every time I close my eyes, I see his face.
I increase the speed. My legs are burning now, but I push through it. Sweat drips down my back and my breathing comes in harsh gasps.
You belong to me.
The words replay in my head like a song I can’t get out of my mind. They make me want things I shouldn’t want.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear the door open. It’s only when a shadow falls across the treadmill that I realize I’m not alone.
Roman stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He’s changed again, this time into a dark suit that fits his shoulders perfectly. His eyes move over my body in a way that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
“You’ve been in here for an hour,” he says.
I don’t slow down. “So?”
“So I was starting to wonder if you were trying to run your way out of the penthouse.”
“I’m exercising. It’s a normal thing that normal people do.”
He pushes off the doorframe and walks toward me. I can feel him getting closer even though I’m not looking at him.
“Normal people don’t run like they’re being chased.”
I hit the stop button and the treadmill slows. When it comes to a halt, I step off and grab my towel, wiping the sweat from my face.
He smirks.
I turn to face him. He’s standing close enough that I can smell his cologne over the scent of my own sweat.
“Always so stubborn. I’m trying to protect you.”
“By controlling me.”
“By keeping you alive.” He steps closer and I step back. My shoulders hit the wall of the gym. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?”
His hand comes up and rests on the wall beside my head. He doesn’t touch me, but I can feel the heat of his body. My pulse is racing again, and this time it has nothing to do with the treadmill.
“Tell me to move,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“Tell me to move and I will. Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away.”
“You’re shaking,” he observes.
I want to deny it. I want to push him away and walk out and pretend this never happened. But I can’t.
His mouth hovers over mine, close enough that I can feel his breath on my lips. He’s waiting for something. Permission, maybe. Or surrender.
I shake off his touch, even though it burns. I won’t let him kiss me again.
He steps back, putting distance between us. The loss of his body heat makes me feel cold despite the sweat still drying on my skin. At least he took the hint.
“Three weeks, Vera. I expect your answer by then.”
He nods once and turns to leave. At the door, he pauses and looks back at me.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I wasn’t planning on proposing this soon. I was going to give you more time.”
He leaves without another word.
I stay against the wall for a long moment, my eyes closed. My skin is still damp with sweat and my heart is racing, but at least I’m no longer on the verge of doing something stupid.
I push off the wall and grab my towel, slinging it over my shoulder. The gym suddenly feels too small. I need air. I need space.
I’m heading for the door when it opens.
Oksana stands in the doorway, a basket of fresh towels in her arms. She takes one look at me and her expression shifts from professional to concerned.
“Mrs. Volkonsky.” She sets the basket on the bench by the wall. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“I was just finishing.”
Her eyes move over my face, reading something in my expression. She’s always been good at that, seeing what I’m trying to hide.
“May I?” She gestures to the bench.
I hesitate, then nod as I sit down. I’m not sure I want company, but I’m not sure I want to be alone either.
Oksana sits beside me and folds her hands in her lap. She’s dressed in her usual uniform: a gray dress and sensible shoes. She looks exactly the same as she did three years ago when I first arrived at the mansion, terrified and alone.
“You’ve been crying,” she observes.
I touch my face and realize she’s right. I must have started at some point and not noticed.
“Oksana,” I say. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Who do you work for now?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Mr. Volkonsky. Roman.”
“Not Konstantin?”
“No, I always worked for Dmitri. Now that he’s passed, the staff have been taken on by Mr. Volkonsky here. He said there was no need for a housekeeper with no one to keep house for.” Her mouth tightens.
“Has he always been like this?” I ask. “Roman, I mean. Has he always been this... intense?”
Oksana considers the question for a moment.
When she speaks, her voice is careful. “The twins were different. Dmitri was charming. Everyone loved him. He could make you feel like the most important person in the room.” She pauses.
“Roman was quieter, but he noticed things. Small things. He’d remember your birthday or ask after your family. ”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It wasn’t.” She looks at me directly. “What I’m trying to say is that Roman has always been the one who paid attention. It makes him dangerous to his enemies, but it made him loyal to those he cares about.”
“Loyal,” I repeat. “That’s one word for it.”
“What word would you use?”
I think about the way Roman looked at me in the gym. The way he said my name. The way he proposed marriage like it was a foregone conclusion.
“Complicated,” I say finally.
Oksana nods like she understands. “Complicated is not always bad. Dmitri was simple, and he hurt you every day.”
Her words land like a punch. She’s right, of course. Dmitri was simple in the worst way. He wanted what he wanted and he took it, and my feelings never entered into the equation.
“Roman is different,” Oksana continues. “He asks. He gives you choices.”
“Does he?” I laugh, but it comes out bitter. “It doesn’t feel like I have many choices right now.”
“More than you think.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand briefly. “More than you had with Dmitri.”
I want to believe her. I want to believe that Roman is different, that this marriage proposal is about protection and not possession.
Only, I’ve been down this road before. I’ve trusted men who seemed kind only to discover the monster underneath.
Oksana stands. “I’ll leave you to finish your workout. Dinner will be at seven, if you’d like to eat with Mr. Volkonsky.”
“I don’t know if I can.”