Chapter 9
FYODOR
Noemi is lucky I let her walk out of my dining room earlier.
I never let anyone speak to me like that, and I only stopped myself from restraining her longer because she has a point.
The only reason she's here is to help my son adjust, and I will be the first person to tell everyone I have no clue how to handle a child.
They're small and fragile and weak, and I detest anything weak.
But I know I have to learn to love this strange, smaller version of myself.
I scrub a hand down over my face as I pace my study and wait for Lazar to bring her to me.
She may know more about raising children or at least educating them, but she can't speak to me that way ever again, especially not in front of my son.
If we get that squared away, I think I'm capable of learning the proper way to speak to him and meet his needs.
I'm not heartless, but I have standards.
When the door to my study opens, I pause for a moment and watch Noemi stumble in as if shoved by Lazar.
Then he nods at me from the door and shuts it.
I have no interest in wasting time on a huge conversation.
I have to leave town soon and I just want to make sure she follows my rules while I'm out.
"We need to discuss the arrangements going forward," I tell her, as if she hasn't already figured out that I am a picky man with strict rules. "I haven't yet given you instructions for how this situation will work, and that needs to be addressed before things get out of hand."
"Instructions?" She repeats the word with obvious disdain. "You mean rules for how I'm supposed to behave while being held prisoner in your house against my will?" Noemi's tone is sharp, probably somewhat called for. But I don’t care for it.
"Call it what you want, but there are expectations that need to be clear.
" I walk to my desk and lean against it, crossing my arms over my chest to look down my nose at her.
"I have business that requires me to leave this house periodically, sometimes for days at a time.
When I'm gone, you'll be under guard, but I need to know you'll follow certain guidelines. "
"Guidelines." Another bitter repetition again with a scoff and a head shake this time.
"Let me guess, don't try to escape, don't call the police, don't tell anyone what's happening here?
" The hostility in her expression makes her ugly, which is a shame because she's a striking woman, even disheveled and dirty.
"Those would be the basics, yes." I watch her face carefully, looking for any sign that she's actually listening beneath the anger. "But there are other things as well. Sasha needs structure and routine. He needs education and stability. That's your job while you're here."
Noemi sighs hard and says, "My job is to be a teacher at a school, not to be a captive governess for a man who doesn't know the first thing about compassion or basic human decency."
I hold back my anger that wants to lash out. "I have no clue what I'm doing with a kid. That's why you’re here." I can't stop my arms from gesturing while I speak. "What more do you want from me?"
"I want you to care about him!" Her tone is filled with raw emotion. "I want you to look at that frightened little boy and feel something other than inconvenience! He just lost his mother, and you just blurted that out over dinner."
"He asked a direct question, and I gave him a direct answer." I push away from the desk and take a step toward her. "What was I supposed to do, coddle him? Lie to him? He needed to know the truth."
"He needed comfort!" She moves toward me as well, closing the distance until we're standing close enough that I can see the tears gathering in her eyes.
"He needed someone to hold him and tell him it's going to be alright.
Children aren't soldiers, Fyodor! They need gentleness and patience and love, or they turn into monsters like you! "
My temper explodes, but instead of striking her the way she did me, I curl my hands into fists and channel it into a gravelly tone, which I turn on her.
"If I coddle him, he'll be weak and unable to handle the realities of the world he's been born into.
Is that what you want? For him to be defenseless? "
"I want him to be happy!" Her voice cracks and when she blinks, tears come out, streaming down her cheeks.
"I want him to have a childhood where he feels safe and loved and protected, not one where his own father treats him like a mission.
You're no good for him if you're going to make him into a version of yourself! "
I wince inwardly but don't allow my intense anger to taint my expression at all.
Perhaps my son isn't a coward or weakling like I thought.
He requested this woman, specifically, and she has the biggest balls of any person I've ever met to continuously speak to me like this without fear.
She's perfect for this task, whether I like her attitude or not.
And it's only a bonus that she's beautiful and I get to admire that beauty.
"You're right," I mutter, eating my own anger like humble pie.
Noemi blinks a few times, clearly not expecting agreement. "What?"
"You're right." I repeat it more firmly this time, watching the confusion spread across her face.
"If you have the nerve to stand up to me, to slap me and shout at me and refuse to back down even when you know I could make your life significantly more difficult, then you have exactly the kind of strength my son needs to learn from. "
Her mouth opens, then closes again. She's speechless, all that righteous fury deflating into bewildered silence.
A flush creeps up her neck and into her cheeks, turning her skin a deep pink that spreads all the way to the tips of her ears.
She looks away, her hands unclenching and then clenching again as though she doesn't know what to do with them now that she's not actively fighting me.
It's intoxicating.
The sight of her flustered and off-balance does something unexpected to me. Watching her struggle to regain her composure as I speak plainly to her makes my body react. Putting her in her place angrily will never work. She must be coaxed like an aged brandy, and she'll sing beautifully for me.
"I don't understand." She finally manages to speak, though her voice is quieter now, less certain. "You're saying you want me to teach Sasha to stand up to you?"
I chuckle and turn away from her. "I'm saying I want you to teach him to be strong.
" I move back to my desk and lean against it again.
"To have a backbone. To not let people push him around or make him feel small.
It's what a man in my world needs to learn, and you're right—my harsh ways may only break him further instead of molding him into my image. "
She's still staring at me with that bewildered expression, and I can see her trying to work through the logic of what I'm saying.
Her fingers twist together in front of her, and she bites her lower lip in a gesture that draws my attention to her mouth.
Her lips appear slightly chapped, perhaps from dehydration, and I think of how I should bring her balm for them, to keep them soft and supple, the way a woman should be.
"So, what are you proposing?" She's calmer now, sounding curious. It's a good position for her to be in. "That I just stay here indefinitely and raise your son for you?"
"I'm proposing that I pay you." I reach into my desk drawer and pull out a notepad, flipping to a blank page.
"Whatever salary the school was paying you, I'll double it.
Room and board included, of course, since you'll be living here.
You'll have your own space, privacy when you need it, and full access to anything you require for educating Sasha. "
She shakes her head before I even finish speaking. "No."
"No?" I set the notepad down and cross my arms. "You're refusing a salary increase and guaranteed housing?"
"I'm refusing on principle." Her chin lifts again, her defiance returning. "You can't just kidnap someone and then expect them to accept payment as though that makes it legitimate employment. I don't want your money, and I don't want to be here."
"Then you'll stay anyway without payment." I shrug and shake my head as my eyebrows rise. It makes no difference to me at all. "Either way, you're not leaving until I'm satisfied that Sasha is properly cared for and educated. You might as well take the money and make this easier on yourself."
"Make it easier on myself?" She takes a step toward me, anger flaring in her eyes again. "Nothing about this situation is easy! You've ripped me away from my life, my job, my home, and you're holding me here against my will! Money doesn't change that! Money doesn't make any of this acceptable!"
"Perhaps not." I meet her gaze and hold it. "We can fight about the morality of the situation all you want, but the reality is that neither of us is getting what we want right now, so we might as well find a way to make it work."
She opens her mouth to respond, then closes it again.
I can see the internal struggle playing out across her face.
"I don't want anything to do with you, Fyodor Gravitch—not your money, not your approval.
I don't want to be part of whatever criminal enterprise you're running.
The only reason I'm still here is because Sasha needs someone, and I can't abandon him to your care alone. "
I find myself respecting her more for her honesty. She's not trying to manipulate or negotiate. She's simply stating her position. I push away from the desk and move toward her, watching the way she tenses but doesn't back away.
"Then we understand each other." I reach out and take her by the arm. "Come with me. I'll show you to your room."
She tries to pull away, but I maintain my grip and guide her toward the door. "I already have a room with Sasha…" Now she's whimpering. I get the sense I'm hurting her, but I don't loosen my hand.
"That's Sasha's room." I open the door and lead her down the hallway. "You'll have your own space now."
She stops resisting and walks beside me, though I can feel the tension radiating from her body.
We walk the hallway toward the opposite wing of the house, passing closed doors and empty rooms, heading toward a bedroom at the end that's been unused for years.
We're halfway down the hall when a door ahead of us opens and Sasha emerges.
He's wearing new pajamas I had Lazar put in his drawers while we were being served dinner.
He sees us and freezes and his eyes grow wide
I stop walking and release Noemi's arm. She immediately moves toward him, but I hold up my hand to stop her. "Wait."
She looks at me with surprise, but something in my expression makes her pause.
I take a breath and crouch down, lowering myself to Sasha's eye level.
The position feels awkward and unnatural, and I have to brace one hand against the wall to maintain my balance.
Sasha stares at me with those wide, frightened eyes, and I can see his lower lip starting to tremble.
"I'm sorry I upset you at dinner." I don't believe I've ever given a true apology, so this feels very uncomfortable. "I should've told you about your mother differently. In a better way."
Sasha doesn't respond. He continues staring at me with that heartbreaking expression.
"I'm not good at this" —I gesture vaguely between us, trying to encompass everything I don't know how to articulate— "being a father, knowing what to say or how to say it. But I'm trying, and I'll keep trying, even when I get it wrong."
"You made me sad." Sasha's voice sounds so weak and cowardly, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting to it as I remember what Noemi said about nurturing.
"I know." I nod slowly. "And I'm sorry for that. Your mother dying is sad, and you're allowed to feel sad about it. I shouldn't have said it the way I did." I’m worlds away from the treatment I received when my father died. This is progress, right?
His eyes search my face, looking for something I'm not sure I can provide.
Finally, he takes a small step forward, then another, until he's close enough that I could reach out and touch him.
I stay still, letting him make the decision about proximity.
His arms wrap around me tightly, and I feel my throat constrict.
"Mamochka told me when someone is angry or sad, it's because they need love. And maybe we both just need love then." Sasha's words threaten to melt my heart. I place my hand on his back and hold my tongue because I have no clue what to say to him.
But I look up and see Noemi standing there with sadness in her eyes and her hand covering her mouth. God help me, I have to figure this out, and that insolent, beautiful woman may be the one to teach us both how to cohabitate without my hurting him.
"Go to bed now. You'll have studies tomorrow." I rise, and Sasha flicks a glance at Noemi before retreating into his room, which will remain unlocked for now.
I still don't think I can trust her, but my son can't get far on his own. I just hope I stop giving him reasons to want to leave.