Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Dante & Natasha
Dante
Violent pounding on the door ripped me from what little sleep I'd managed to get.
My eyes snapped open. My temples were killing me. I'd barely slept—those old bastards in the brotherhood had been pulling shit all night, not to mention the men I'd sent after Vera came back at four in the morning with nothing. She'd vanished into thin air. Not a single damn lead.
A whole night's worth of rage hit its breaking point. I threw off the covers, already reaching for the gun under my pillow, ready to make whoever was stupid enough to wake me at this hour pay for it.
But before I could get out of bed, the bedroom door flew open.
"Dante Romanov!"
With that sharp, furious rebuke, a figure in a designer coat and elegant heels strode in.
The second I saw who it was, my fingers froze on the gun. The murderous fire in my chest got doused like someone had dumped ice water over my head. In all of New York, hell, in the entire underworld, only one person would barge into my bedroom and use my full name like that—my mother, Katerina.
I let out a bitter breath, released the gun, and grabbed the silk robe beside me. Leaning against the headboard, I rubbed my aching temples, trying to sound more exhausted than angry.
"Mother, I'm pushing thirty, not thirteen. You could at least respect my privacy and not force your way in."
Katerina stopped at the foot of the bed. Those sharp eyes—identical to mine—fixed on me as she slammed her purse onto the armchair.
"Respect?" She laughed coldly, judgment written across her face. "If you understood respect, I wouldn't be looking at a groom sleeping alone in the master bedroom. Tell me, Dante—where's your bride? Why wasn't she in this bed last night?"
My hand paused on the robe's tie. The mention of Natasha brought back yesterday's disgust and the fury of being played.
"Maybe she went out for a walk." I looked away, casually reaching for a cigar from the nightstand. "She's not exactly a conventional bride, Mother."
"A walk?"
Katerina's laugh had no warmth in it. "Dante, if you had any problem with this marriage, you could have refused to put on that ring yesterday in the church. Instead, you brought her home and pulled this pathetic cold-shoulder act."
My grip tightened on the cigar. Snap. The delicate tobacco broke in half.
I looked up with a cold smile. "Make the Romanov family a joke in front of every mob boss in New York? Mother, I won't let anyone damage our reputation. Since the Kornilovs sent a replacement, she'll bear everything that comes with it."
"So," Katerina's tone turned even icier, "that's why you locked her in the greenhouse and let her freeze all night?"
My brow furrowed hard.
Freeze all night?
My mind went blank.
Yesterday, when I'd returned to the Manor, I had seen a faint light from the greenhouse through the rain. I'd even spotted Natasha through the glass.
But I'd assumed it was some cheap ploy for attention, so I hadn't stopped. I'd walked straight into the main house.
She'd been locked in there? All night?
Something uncomfortably close to guilt churned in my stomach.
"I didn't know." I tossed the broken cigar in the trash and headed for the bathroom, trying to end this conversation that was making me uneasy. "Probably a servant's mistake. They locked up without checking. The Manor's huge—idiots make mistakes every day."
"A mistake?" Katerina's voice carried disappointment.
She stepped in front of me, eyes blazing.
"A living person locked in the greenhouse all night, and you, her husband, saw an empty bed and couldn't even be bothered to ask.
If I hadn't cut my trip short and come home today, how much longer were you planning to leave her there? "
Her voice dropped but became more oppressive. "She's running a high fever now. Dante, sometimes your coldness makes you a stranger to me."
My jaw tightened.
For a split second, I did feel I'd gone too far.
But the thought lasted less than a second. Why should I feel guilty about someone who schemed and drove away her own sister? My mercy shouldn't be wasted on a manipulative replacement full of lies.
Guilt? No. She didn't deserve my guilt.
"Mother." I cut her off calmly, my eyes cold. "If she's unhappy with how I treat her, she can leave this manor anytime. I never wanted to marry her. She's the one who schemed her way into my bed and drove Vera away. She threw herself at me."
I met Katerina's eyes, hardening my heart.
"If she had the guts to trap me, she should have the spine to face the consequences. She brought this on herself."
The moment I finished, my peripheral vision caught a shadow outside the half-open bedroom door. I didn't know how long it had been standing there.
I whipped my head around.
It was Natasha. She wore an oversized wool shawl, her face a sickly mix of pale white and flushed red. Her lips were cracked and purple, her body trembling slightly, but she stood straight.
She looked at me calmly. Those green eyes that used to always avoid mine, that always brimmed with tears—now they held nothing.
Just a dead, numb gray.
Natasha
He'd seen me after all, but pretended he hadn't.
But learning this truth, I didn't feel the heart-wrenching pain I'd imagined. Instead, hearing those words brought a strange calm.
Of course he'd do that. In his self-contained logic, I was a vicious woman who'd stop at nothing to climb the ladder. He didn't have the patience to hear one word of explanation from me, so why would he care whether I'd nearly died in that freezing greenhouse?
The fever made my head feel full of lead, every breath bringing needle-sharp pain in my lungs. I leaned against the cold hallway wall, forcing myself not to collapse.
If I weren't afraid of Katerina fighting with Dante over me, I wouldn't have come near this master bedroom at all.
I took a deep breath, swallowing the metallic taste in my throat, and walked into the room.
"Oh, God. Natasha, who said you could get out of bed?"
Katerina immediately turned and rushed over, gripping my arm. The warmth of her palm made me realize how cold my own skin was.
She turned to Dante, her gaze sharp as a blade. "I'll find out who ordered that maid to lock the greenhouse. Dante, if I discover you had anything to do with this, I'll teach you some manners myself."
"No, ma'am."
I gently grasped Katerina's wrist, interrupting her.
My voice was soft, like sandpaper scraping wood, but I kept my words clear. "It has nothing to do with Dante. I was painting, lost track of time, and fell asleep. I was careless."
The room fell silent.
I felt Dante's eyes on me. He even let out a disdainful laugh.
But I didn't care. I wasn't covering for him. I was protecting myself.
I knew perfectly well that if Katerina punished Dante today because of me, or even just scolded him harshly, after she left, he'd make me pay double.
I didn't have the energy to deal with his fury and revenge.
I was too tired. I just wanted to find a quiet corner in this manor and exist like a ghost.
Keeping the peace was my only survival strategy now.
Katerina studied me deeply. She patted my hand gently, as if seeing through my compromise and exhaustion.
She sighed, then turned back to Dante.
"Whatever happened yesterday, now that the ring's on her finger, she's the legitimate mistress of the family. Dante, you need to take responsibility. You're husband and wife, not enemies."
She glanced around the room. "Tonight, Natasha moves back into the master bedroom. You need time to build something between you. I don't care what you think privately, but appearances must be maintained."
She paused, her tone growing severe. "And I need a grandchild. That's your duty as head of this family."
The moment Katerina finished, I felt Dante's furious stare. But I said nothing, just lowered my eyes to the carpet pattern, as if their discussion had nothing to do with me.
I was used to it. I'd never had any say in anything.
"I'll arrange for the doctor first." Katerina released me. "You two better communicate. I don't want to see any childish cold wars in this house."
With that, she left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
The soft click echoed.
Only Dante and I remained.
I stood quietly, hearing his slippers on the carpet as he approached. He stopped in front of me, that familiar scent of tobacco and cold cologne enveloping me.
"Quite the performance."
Dante spoke, his voice usually so attractive, now carrying a bone-chilling calm and mockery.
I lifted my head and met his eyes.
"I really underestimated you, Natasha." Dante looked down at me, his mouth curving in an icy arc. "Impressive how you've got my mother wrapped around your finger. She's not easy to win over."
I opened my mouth to explain, but he suddenly leaned down, bringing his face close to my ear. His breath swept across my feverish cheek. I shivered reflexively.
"What tricks did you use to make her protect you like this?" he asked quietly, his tone carrying dangerous curiosity.
I suddenly felt deeply weary.
"I didn't use any tricks." I looked straight into those eyes that once made my heart flutter, my voice flat with exhaustion. "Katerina and I just connected."
Dante's eyes darkened, unsatisfied with that answer, but he straightened and gave an order.
"Since Mother insisted, you'll move in tonight. I don't want conflict with her over you right now."
He stepped back, creating distance between us.
"But keep your schemes to yourself. Our marriage is worthless paper. My heart belongs to Vera."
He adjusted his robe's cuffs, his tone flat but cutting.
"Play the trophy wife. Put on your little show for my mother every day. Don't expect me to touch you, and forget about an heir. That's your only value in this manor. Understand?"
I looked at his cold face. I didn't feel insulted. Instead, I felt an absurd sense of relief.
Play the trophy wife?
That was the best arrangement I could hope for right now.
"I understand." I nodded obediently. "I'll be a good trophy wife."