29. Maya
MAYA
“Excuse me, Maya?”
I turn over in bed with a sigh, tiredness still clinging to my drooping eyes as I look up at the doorway.
Standing there is Maria, the housekeeper, who has been fussing over me since the second I set foot back in this place.
She is kind enough, but sometimes, I feel like she would prefer it if I was a little quicker to eat her home remedies for morning sickness and pregnancy cravings; some of them looked so questionable on the plate though, I doubt anyone would have blamed me.
“Yes?”
“The Pakhan would like to take dinner with you tonight.”
I sit up. “What?”
She repeats herself, but it is not the fact of what she is saying that surprises me—but the idea that he wants to see me, after the confrontation we’d had just a couple of days before.
I still don’t know where we stand, just that he has been keeping his distance like his life depends on it.
I have heard no mention of me going to my old place, or the guards escorting me anywhere, as a matter of fact, and I figured that he had just closed himself off the possibility and that I would need to find another method of approach that would actually get through to him.
And yet...
“Uh, I’ll... I’ll be right there,” I tell her, straightening up and glancing around the room as I search out some clothes that might make for a good dinner outfit.
God, I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear, and I feel like my head is going to burst as she backs out of the room and leaves me to get ready.
My mind spins as I dress myself, and I’m already practicing how to phrase my demands a little more sweetly as I make my way down the corridor and to the dining room.
The first thing that strikes me is that there are no guards on the door. Strange, I would have thought that he’d have had this place locked out and locked down in any way he could, just to make certain that there would be nobody would interrupt whatever it is he has to say to me.
But, as I plant my hand on the door and push it open, my eyebrows raise at the sight waiting for me on the other side.
The dining room looks like it has been turned into some fine-dining establishment.
Candles flicker on the table, and there is a white cloth laid out beneath it; the food could have been plucked straight from a glossy editorial, and it smells even more delicious, fragrant garlic and delicate mushroom wafting through the air.
And there, at the end of the table, he stands, waiting for me.
He is wearing a suit that fits him perfectly, drawing attention to his broad shoulders and the way they taper down into his narrower waist. He grins when he sees me, and despite the tension that has been floating between us, I can’t help but return it.
“Hey,” he greets me, and I tuck a loose strand of hair back behind my ear, gesturing down to my outfit.
“I would have dressed up, if I had known you were going to go all-out,” I joke.
I’m wearing a shirt and a pair of jeans, hardly the kind of thing that seems suitable for something as beautiful as this, but maybe it’s for the best that I didn’t know in advance.
Knowing me, I would have found some way to desperately overthink it, and right now, I can’t help but feel a little flutter of hope in my chest.
He pours me a glass of sparkling water and pushes it across the table towards me; I reach to take it from him, and our fingertips connect for a bare moment.
I can feel that spark, the same spark there that set me alight on the very first night we met, and I can tell from the look on his face that it is just as real for him as it is for me.
“Anton,” I ask him softly, gesturing around. “What... what’s all this for?”
“I can’t have dinner with the mother of my child without it having to mean something?” he asks, though I can tell from the tone in his voice that he is only kidding. He knows the weight this carries, the first time he has really reached out to me since the day we clashed over him keeping me here.
“Eat, Maya,” he insists gently. “I’ve been cooking all day.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You made all of this?”
“Of course,” he replies, as he takes a sip of his water.
He says it as though it is obvious, that I was ridiculous for imagining for a moment that there could have been any other person behind such a feast, but it still comes as a bit of a surprise to know that he is so capable when it comes to the kitchen.
This man contains multitudes, there is no doubt about that, and I’m just beginning to uncover them. I tuck in, and groan as the delicious medley of flavors spreads across my tongue.
“It’s perfect,” I sigh, sipping on my water again, as he watches me from the far end of the table, fork poised over his food. He seems distracted, like there is something else on his mind—something rather more to do with me.
I place my cutlery down once more, dabbing at my lips with a napkin in the hopes of maintaining some decorum.
And, at last, I look at him again, and this time, I’m not going to let him duck my question.
“Anton,” I murmur, leaning forward slightly. “What’s... What is this about?”
He sinks back into his seat for a moment, sensing that he is going to need to come clean with me. “Luna came to me earlier this week.”
“Luna? The girl from the...?”
“One of the girls that Artem had, yes,” he replies, his voice darkening into a grim tone. “She came to me to...to ask for a job.”
I stare at him for a second, confused. “For a job? Like... dancing, or...?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You think I’d want a dancer working for me?”
I lower my gaze again, conceding the point. “Sorry, I just thought...”
“No need to be sorry, I was as confused as you, when she came in,” he replies.
“She wanted to work with me to help with the other women who were being freed from the shit that Artem had done to them. Wanted to do what she could to make it better for them. Easier. Said she knew how this world worked, and she would be an asset in the long-term.”
“And you... you said...?”
“I’m giving her a chance,” he replies steadily. “Need to make sure she knows what she’s doing, and that she’s not going to cause me too much trouble in the process, but she’s right. I need someone who understands this world. These women. Everything they’ve been through.”
I bite my lip. Do I point out to him that it’s exactly what I offered him before, or is that skating too close to the line? I want to tell him that this is exactly what I have been saying to him, that I can help because I understand on a visceral level everything these women go through.
“And it got me thinking,” he goes on. “About what you said to me the other day. About how you—how you felt as trapped here with me as you did with Artem.”
“Anton, you have to understand, I didn’t mean it, not like that-”
He shoots me a look, quieting me in an instant.
“Don’t take it back,” he tells me. “You were right. I might not have been selling you to someone, but I... I kept you here like you were my property. And it’s not right, Maya, I can see that now.
Not when you want so badly to help. To live your own life again. ”
I don’t say a word as I listen to him, not wanting to cut him off, not wanting to spook him into changing his mind.
I feel like we are circling the point now, drawing closer and closer to the possibility of him actually seeing what I’m talking about, and I’m not going to ruin that, not a chance in hell.
He locks eyes with me again, but this time, there is none of the doubt, none of the same anger that I saw in him before.
No, it’s something closer to understanding, as hard as that might be to believe.
Like he is finally seeing me as the woman sitting before him, the person, not just the vessel for his child that must be protected and locked away at all costs.
“And you deserve that chance, too,” he continues. “Not just to help, but to live your life as you see fit.”
I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I had been holding, and I bite down hard on my lip to keep the smile from bursting out across my face.
I can’t believe what he is saying to me.
It almost seems like it must be coming from someone, somewhere else, but as he looks at me, I know this is real, as real as they come, and that I must do everything I can to cling on to it.
“Thank you, Anton,” I whisper to him. Not that those words are even close to enough to express to him how much it truly means to me to hear him speak like that, with such certainty and sureness, with such passion, like it is the only thing that matters to him at all.
But they are a start, and I will take whatever I can get right now.
“No, thank you, Maya,” he replies, his voice rising slightly as he speaks with even more certainty.
“You could have given up on me when I tried to keep you here the first time. Or when I took you to the safehouse, when I said that you couldn’t go back to your apartment, all the fucking times that you tried to free yourself and I turned you down... ”
There is a note of bitterness in his tone, not aimed at me, but aimed at himself. It almost hurts to hear him speak about himself in that way, but if this is what it is going to take to get through to him, then so be it.
He falls silent for a moment, letting the words percolate in the room before he continues.
“When I spoke to Luna, I could see how strong she was, how resilient,” he explains. “And I know you have that same strength in you. I just haven’t wanted to see it, because that means you might not need me in the way that I need you, Maya.”
There it is. I catch my breath, the vulnerability of his admission making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I can’t believe it. He needs me. He needs me. It’s more than just words, but sureness, the promise of a future, the promise of him finally coming to see me the way that I see myself.
“And I wanted to ask you, even if I don’t keep you here, if I don’t make this happen,” he goes on. “Will you stay with me, Maya? Will you be with me?”
I feel my heart swell at the sound of those words.
And I know the answer at once, but they are not the kind I can deliver from the other side of the table, so far from him, so removed.
I rise to my feet, and make my way towards him, his gaze tracing me every step of the way.
And I sink down into his lap, winding my arms around him, resting my hands on his shoulders as I gaze down into his eyes.
“You know,” I tell him, brushing his silver hair back from his face. “I think I’d really like that.”
And, finally, we kiss—the kind of kiss that feels like a seal, like a promise, like a heaven I didn’t know I needed.
His arms circle around me, dinner on the table forgotten, and I pull him even closer, this man I cannot stand to be apart from.
Now that he has given me the choice, now that I know he is allowing me to choose my fate, I wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world but at his side.
And, as I lean my head against his and breathe in the scent of him, I find myself smiling. Because this is where I belong. Where I need to be. With him, with the man I love, the man who has protected me for so long, and now, the man who is offering me freedom alongside his intensity.
As hard as it might have been to get here, now that we have found this compromise, I can feel something unfurling within me, as though a creature that has been keeping its wings tucked away is finally able to take flight.
He kisses me again, more intently this time, and I know that this man is deep within my skin. More than just the father of my children, he is my world; but a world that I will not be limited by or trapped in. I can’t think of much more important than that.