Chapter 15
OLIVIA
All night long, as I toss and turn, I can’t stop thinking about that scream.
Female. Furious. Desperate.
My stomach churns, and it’s not morning sickness this time. I have no proof it was Natalia. But I have no reason not to believe it, either.
The manor is never fully quiet. Guards patrol. Voices drift through walls. Night staff move through hallways like ghosts. If I tried to investigate, I’d be caught in seconds. And if Stefan really does have his mother trapped down there, what happens to me when I’m caught trying to free her?
I should cancel tonight’s dinner, this “not-a-date.” His refusal to be transparent about what’s happening in this house should be reason enough. But I know I won’t. Because I’m an idiot who still wants him despite everything.
If I survive this, I’m getting that tattooed on my forehead: I’m an idiot.
A knock interrupts my spiral.
“Olivia.” Stefan’s voice, muffled through wood. “Can I come in?”
I don’t answer, but he enters anyway. Boundaries are just suggestions to Stefan Safonov.
He looks immaculate despite the early hour—charcoal suit, no tie, top button undone. His eyes sweep over me, cataloging: messy hair, yesterday’s clothes, the half-eaten sleeve of saltines on my nightstand.
“You didn’t come down for breakfast.”
“Wasn’t hungry.” I pull my knees to my chest, making myself smaller. “Saltines are very filling.”
His jaw ticks. “You need real food.”
“Or what? You’ll lock me in the basement, too?”
His whole body goes rigid, that careful control slipping for just a second before he locks it down again. “There are some things you really don’t need to know, Olivia.”
“That’s not your decision to make.” I meet his eyes, refusing to back down. “Tell me, have you found Natalia yet?”
“No.” Zero hesitation. Either he’s telling the truth or he’s gotten very good at lying to me. Both options make me sick.
“And when you do?”
“I’ll inform you the moment we find her.”
“That’s a pretty weak promise, Stefan.”
He moves closer, and I hate how my body responds—pulse jumping, skin heating. Even now, even with everything between us, I want him. It’s pathological. No—it’s depraved.
“What do you want from me?” he snarls. “A detailed report of every move I make? Every minute decision?”
“I want honesty. But as you have made quite clear, that’s too much to ask.” I stand, needing to be on equal footing. “Did you ever stop to think that it’s you I care about? That asking you not to kill your mother isn’t about her—it’s about saving your soul?”
He laughs, dark and bitter. “My soul was lost long before you came along, lisichka.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then you’re naive.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I see something in you that you refuse to see in yourself.” I step closer, close enough to smell his cologne, like if sex and lies had a scent. “So here’s my question: When you find her—and we both know you will—what happens?”
His eyes search mine. “What do you want to happen?”
“I want you to not become the monster she says you are.”
“And if I already am?”
“Then prove her wrong.” I reach up, my fingers barely grazing his jaw. “Don’t kill her, Stefan. Whatever she’s done, whatever you think she deserves—don’t do it.”
He catches my wrist. “You’re asking me to spare the woman who destroyed my family.”
“I’m asking you to be better than her.”
We stand there, frozen, his hand around my wrist, my fingers against his skin. The air between us crackles with everything we’re not saying.
“I can promise you that I won’t kill her,” he says finally. “But that’s the best I can do.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there are other ways to handle threats.”
“Stefan—”
“That’s my offer, Olivia. Take it or leave it.”
I pull my hand away. “You know, your mother said something interesting. That there might be more to your story than you know. More to what happened with your father.”
His face transforms, rage flooding his features. “You look and sound like Olivia, but I’m starting to think it’s Natalia talking.”
“Or maybe I’m just trying to understand—”
“There’s nothing to understand. She’s poison, and she’s poisoning you against me.”
“No one’s poisoning me against you, Stefan. You’re doing that all by yourself.”
He steps back like I’ve slapped him. “Is that what you think?”
“I think you’re so consumed with revenge that you can’t see straight. And I think you’re keeping secrets that are going to destroy us.”
“Some secrets are meant to be kept.”
“Not from me. Not if you want this to work.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, that calculating look in his eyes. “We still have dinner tonight.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
“We need to have this conversation, Olivia. Unless you prefer to remain blissfully ignorant?”
The condescension in his tone makes me see red. “Get out.”
“Olivia—”
“Get. Out.”
He heads for the door, then pauses. “I’ll send the maid up with a proper breakfast. Real food, not crackers.”
“I don’t want—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you want. You need to eat.” He opens the door. “Seven o’clock tonight. Wear something nice.”
The door closes with a decisive click.
I sink onto the bed, my whole body shaking. The worst part—the absolute worst part—is that even now, even when he’s at his worst, I still want him. Still crave his hands on me, his mouth, his body pressing me into the mattress until I can’t think about anything but him.
I’m definitely getting that tattoo. Idiot.
But first, I need to find out who’s in that basement.
I wait an hour, then slip out of my room. The hallway is empty, pale sunlight leaking through tall windows. My bare feet are silent on the thick carpet as I make my way toward the main staircase.
The basement door is exactly where I remember—just off the main foyer, a burnished bronze facade that looks more like art than an entrance. Ornate little studs run along its edges. I try the handle.
Locked.
Of course.
“Looking for something, dear?”
I spin around. Elena stands there, coffee mug in hand, one eyebrow raised.
“I was just, uh… looking for the laundry room.”
“Mmm.” She takes a sip of coffee, studying me over the rim. “The laundry room. Or the bathroom, perhaps?”
My face burns. “The bathroom. Yeah. That’s what I meant.”
“There’s one just down that hall.” She points in the opposite direction. “That door there leads to the basement.”
“Oh.” I try to sound casual. “Is it always locked?”
“Always.” Her eyes are knowing, too knowing. “Would you like me to show you where the laundry room actually is? For future reference?”
“That would be great.”
She leads me away from the bronze door, away from whatever secrets it’s hiding. I take one last look back at it before we round the corner.
My super sleuth alter ego might be terrible at this, but I’m not giving up. Not until I know exactly what Stefan’s hiding down there.
“You know,” Elena says as we walk, “curiosity isn’t always a bad thing. But in this house, it can be dangerous.”
“Is that a warning?”
“Just an observation.” She pats my arm gently. “Stefan cares for you, in his way. But caring and trusting are two very different things.”
“Tell me about it.”
She stops at another door, this one clearly marked Laundry.
“Here we are. Though I suspect you won’t be doing your own washing.
” She clutches my elbow and looks at me, her voice serious now.
“Olivia… Whatever you think you need to know, ask yourself if it’s worth the price you’ll pay for knowing it. ”
I gulp. “What if the price of not knowing is higher?”
She considers this. “Then I suppose you’ll have to decide which bill you can afford to pay.”