Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Lilith
My sister had been recovering in the hospital for a week. She was doing pretty well—could even get out of bed and walk around sometimes.
"Lily." Elena's voice cut through the quiet. Her hand patted the edge of the bed once. "Come sit."
I was shoving freshly washed hospital gowns into the closet. That tone made me freeze. She only used that voice when she had something serious to say.
I shut the closet door and sat down beside her.
"What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine." She shook her head, those deep brown eyes locked on me for what felt like forever. "I just need to ask you something."
My hands landed on my knees, fingers twisting together without permission. The question I'd been dreading had finally arrived.
I took a deep breath.
I'd been trying to figure out how to tell her for days, but the words never came. I couldn't exactly say—Elena, I tried to win Luca back, accidentally seduced his dad instead, slept with him, and now he wants to marry me, right?
She'd lose her mind.
"You and Andrei—what's going on? Isn't Luca supposed to be your boyfriend?"
"Luca cheated. He and his new girlfriend humiliated me... Andrei helped me." I didn't want to worry her, but lying would only make it worse.
"What? That piece of shit... I thought he'd at least have some decency!" Elena's voice rose. "And Andrei? You've barely known him—why are you suddenly engaged?"
"I looked him up, Lily. He's twenty-three years older than you. He has a son! I know he's rich, but tell me the truth—did you agree to marry him because of me?"
"If that's what this is, I'd rather die than drag you down with me. I won't let you end up in that kind of hell. I won't let you walk the path I walked."
"Don't say that! Elena, you know what you mean to me. I'll do whatever it takes to save you." I grabbed her and held her tight. "But trust me—I wouldn't gamble with marriage."
"Lily, you're my only sister. How can I let you take that risk?" She shook her head hard. "You don't know how gentle men can be when they're chasing you. You don't know how fast they change after the wedding. Every sweet word before becomes a slap across your face after."
She gripped my hand—cold and thin. Her eyes filled with panic. The sight stabbed through my chest.
"I know."
I knew marriage terrified her. What she'd survived was beyond anything most people could imagine. That's why she was so afraid for me.
Our parents died in an accident when Elena was fifteen. A distant relative took us in.
They lived in an old Brooklyn house. Gave us a basement room that always smelled like mold. The pipes froze in winter. Cockroaches crawled out of the drains in summer.
Nothing like the home we'd had before. So at sixteen, Elena dropped out of school. Worked herself to the bone to support me. We moved out.
It wasn't until I got into college on a full scholarship that Elena could finally stand up straight again. That's when our real life started. Before that, we'd just been surviving. I still remembered how happy she was that day.
Life was moving forward. Until... she met that man. Jimmy.
I couldn't stand to picture his face.
Jimmy entered our lives when Elena was twenty.
At first, he played the gentleman. Waited for her after late shifts, walked her home. Said he'd take care of both of us. His sincerity won her over. She finally agreed to marry him.
But the day after the wedding, Jimmy changed. Completely.
Because the food was too salty, he smashed the bowl on the floor and slapped her across the face.
Over the next few years, I lost count of how many times it happened.
I wanted to leave with her, but we couldn't survive. Jimmy had taken all our savings.
Then he died. Spent a whole night drinking, drove into a highway guardrail. Killed on impact.
We were finally free.
I thought we could start over. Then Elena's health started failing.
I took her to the hospital. The doctor said her heart was damaged—blunt force trauma.
I knew exactly what the doctor meant. Before that, every time Jimmy's fist slammed into her chest, she never once went to the hospital.
Now Elena was lying in a VIP room at New York Presbyterian.
Andrei had hired the best cardiac surgeon on the East Coast. Surgery, hospital stay, all the follow-up treatments—he paid for everything.
He didn't know my sister. She was already in the operating room when he arrived.
Just because I was crying, he opened his hands and caught everything that was falling.
Andrei and Jimmy were nothing alike.
Andrei never made me feel small. I remembered him standing up to Luca, his voice hard and protective. I remembered him wiping my tears with a tissue, gentle like he was handling expensive porcelain. I remembered when he said I was wonderful, his eyes stayed on me—no half-measures, no lies.
"Elena, Andrei's different. I really like him." I looked at her straight on. "He's never forced me. Marrying him—that was my choice. I'll own it."
"All right."
After a long silence, Elena nodded, but her voice stayed firm.
"But Lily, you have to value yourself. Don't give yourself away before marriage. You hear me?"
I buried my face in her shoulder, guilt creeping up my spine. I couldn't tell her Andrei and I had already crossed that line. I just nodded hard.
Elena sighed and pressed my hand to her chest. "Whatever you decide, I'm on your side. I just want you to know—you deserve to be treated right."
"I know," I said, voice cracking.
"Andrei paid for my surgery. I'm not going to trash him. If it wasn't for him, I'd probably be dead. So I'm grateful—truly grateful." She paused. "But once I'm better, we can pay him back. I don't want you repaying this debt with yourself. You understand?"
"Of course I understand, but it's not like that. We're together because we like each other!" I answered fast.
"Ah... our Lily's all grown up." The corner of Elena's mouth lifted—barely—as she pulled me close.
I left her room and walked into the caregiver's room next door, shut the door, leaned back against it, and let out a long breath.
I sat on the bed and pulled out my phone.
One message from Andrei. A photo of dinner—perfectly seared steak with roasted vegetables and a little dish of sauce. A glass of red wine sat on the table. Casual shot, but the food looked restaurant-quality.
Below it: "Today's dinner."
I checked the time. Seven-thirty. I'd been so wrapped up talking to Elena I'd completely forgotten to eat.
I typed back: "Looks amazing. I haven't eaten yet. Starving."
His reply came in under ten seconds. "Why haven't you eaten?"
I leaned back against the headboard. "Was talking to my sister. She went on forever. I lost track."
"What did she say?"
I thought about it, then decided on honesty. "Asked if you were using money to force me into marrying you."
"Said men are one way before marriage, another way after. Told me to value myself."
"She's not wrong," Andrei replied. "But I'm not that kind of man."
I smiled, typing back. "I told her that. Said I like you." Added a goofy smiley face.
"I'm honored, princess." Then another message: "So what are you eating? Don't starve."
I got up and opened the small fridge in the caregiver's room. Plenty of ingredients. I'd throw something together.
"There's meat in the fridge. I'll make a stew."
"You cook?"
"Of course. My sister and I always cooked for ourselves. She's an amazing cook. She wanted to be a chef and open a restaurant." But Jimmy destroyed that. I didn't want to think about the bad stuff, so I added: "Your steak looks really good."
His response came quickly. "It's not."
"No way." I didn't believe him. Maybe Andrei was just picky. "Then what's good?"
"You."
Me? Good?
My face went hot.
That line just sat there on my screen, but it felt alive—like it was looking right through at me.
I could picture Andrei typing it, the corner of his mouth lifting, those blue eyes full of that look that made my knees weak.
"Are you wet?" Another message.
"No." I typed fast.
"Let me check."
His words made my face burn hotter, my finger hovering over the screen, not sure how to respond.
"Be good. Take them off."
"What?"
"Those clothes are getting in the way. All of them."
I stared at the screen, my heart hammering. The caregiver's room was bright, curtains drawn tight, door closed—but I felt like someone was watching.
"My sister's right next door. And I'm in the kitchen." My fingers trembled as I typed.
"She's resting," Andrei replied. "Just taking off clothes won't make noise. Don't worry. She's not going to come check on you."
Just taking off clothes?
My cheeks were on fire as I whispered the words out loud.
He was being so bold, teasing me like this. Fine. I wouldn't back down either.
I bit my lower lip, set the phone aside, and pulled off my long-sleeved pajama top. Then the pants. I threw them on the floor, standing in the kitchen in just my bra and panties. The AC blew cold air across my bare skin, raising goosebumps.
I grabbed my phone. "Done."
"Everything?"
"Underwear's still on."
"Take it all off."
"No way!" I typed back instantly.
Andrei sent a smiley face emoji.
I could almost see the smirk on his face through that tiny little icon.
"Good girl. Do as you're told. Then put on that apron next to you. I bet it'll look perfect on you."
What? I shook. Then I couldn't help imagining what Andrei's message implied—me completely naked, wearing nothing but an apron that barely covered anything.
I stood there, the AC unable to cool the heat building inside me. Andrei didn't send another message. Like he knew I'd obey.
And I did. My hand reached for the clasp of my white bra. Undid it.
The apron wrapped around me. Short. Covered the top but left the bottom exposed. I tugged it down—my chest spilled out. The back was just two strings, leaving my entire back bare. It didn't even cover my ass.
"Good girl. Show me." Andrei's message came through.