Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
SOPHIE
Being home was nice; sitting in Viktor’s—our—room felt even nicer.
Cath was right: without an attached study, it was much smaller than the one he gave me. The colors were darker—black wood, natural-toned counters. But the walls were ivory, and here and there stood small sculptures, like the ones in the exhibition room.
There was even a narrow shelf with books. Some on business. Some on psychology.
Viktor tried to hide a few of them the moment he noticed I was looking. But it was too late. His ears were already burning as I skimmed through them. One look at the titles, at the summaries on the backs, and it was obvious he’d read them to understand… me.
At least now I understood his extreme caution.
“I didn’t have someone to talk to… about how to do everything right,” he murmured.
“And trying to do everything by the book was the best you came up with?” I looked at him under my lashes. “Did you follow all the instructions?”
“Well, there aren’t really instructions. Just… kind of suggestions?” He let out a short laugh.
A knock on the door shifted our attention, as Ms. Hale brought in lunches that we decided to have on Viktor’s balcony.
The excitement in her eyes sparkled when she first saw Viktor and me getting out of the car—our hands linked. And even now the sparkle was there, alongside a broad smile I’d never seen on her face.
Once the table was ready and Ms. Hale was on her way out, she turned for a moment, looking at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to move Mr. Rowks’s belongings to your room? That’s the master bedroom.”
“I like this one much better.” I turned to my husband. “But if you wish?”
Viktor shook his head. “You can choose whichever room you want. I am fine as I am near you.”
“I feel better here.”
I wasn’t entirely sure why. But the thought of returning to that room—even with Viktor—felt wrong. This one felt right. Like where I was meant to be.
My father’s home was strangely quiet. Mamma, Cath, and Anne were at a late lunch with Mark’s mother and sister. Pre-wedding activities. Rafa was at work. And only Papa was in his office.
So I moved to the second floor, walking through the corridors as a strange feeling like déjà vu ran through my veins.
When the daylight crept over my face near Papa’s office door, I squinted the same way I had around a year ago.
But unlike that time, I couldn’t resist a smile—the memory of overhearing Viktor’s proposal washed over me.
And knowing how hard he’d tried to sound disinterested back then, I couldn’t help but chuckle before finally knocking.
“Dove!” Papa rose from behind his desk. His face shifted from neutral to worried, but the second he noticed my mood, his expression lightened as well.
“Papa.” I walked with firm steps, trying to steady the trembling of my fingers.
Amusement flickered across his face as I came closer, and he went still the moment I slipped my arms around him, resting my cheek against his shoulder.
It took a second for his hands to move—trembling as they rose—before his arms closed around me.
Another second for a kiss to press against my temple.
I closed my eyes, breathing in his cologne.
The same one he’d always worn, even when I was a child sitting on his lap while he worked, his voice patient as he explained ledgers and contracts I was still too young to understand.
He held me a moment longer before a knock at the door pulled us back. Papa cleared his throat, stepping away as the housekeeper entered with refreshments.
“You came alone?” he asked, brushing at his eyes as we moved to the coffee table.
“Yes. I wanted to see you all.”
“Your brother said you were staying at Korolyov’s estate? I see everything went well.”
“Yes.” I couldn’t control my smile. “I missed everyone. Hoped to surprise you. But no one was home.”
“Well, you surprised me.” He chuckled. “Everyone will be back soon. Except Rafa. He’s at the head office. Won’t be home before dinner.”
“He agreed to work for Moreau Group?” I asked, surprised by the news.
“Well, after you showed him how someone with enough competence could revive a business, he had no more excuses!”
“Papa! Don’t be harsh on him.” I narrowed my eyes. “Did he already tell you about Atlas?”
“Well, you’d have to be living under a rock not to know about that one.”
“You sound very pleased.” I couldn’t stop my lips from curling up.
“Of course I am.” He shook his head. “I was actually very interested in how you did it.”
I took the strawberry lemonade in front of me, enjoyed the first sip, before explaining how everything started.
How Viktor had noticed my interest, tried a few things, gave me Ms. Lind, and eventually entrusted me with Atlas—or rather, how I’d chosen it myself.
How much work Ms. Lind and I had done, and how I’d decided to use my connections with Korolyov to expand the business.
I told him more about my plans while Papa kept shaking his head in amusement.
I knew he probably wasn’t amused by what I’d done—rather, that I was speaking about it all with such enjoyment.
“Your brother was right. That sly fox knows how to use the people around him to sustain his empire.” He chortled.
“Don’t call my husband a sly fox! He’s…” He actually was a little cunning, only in a good way.
“‘My husband?’ What a defensive tone.”
I laughed. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons I came. I need Mr. Anderson’s assistance.”
“Mr. Anderson?”
“Yes, I know he’s the Moreau family lawyer. But I couldn’t think of anyone else I trust as much.”
“Why do you need him?” Papa frowned.
“We’re redoing our marriage contract. Everything seems fine—Rowks’s lawyers drafted everything well.
But Viktor insists I have it reviewed by a lawyer whose only interest is in me.
” I shifted in my seat. He’d been insisting on it for the last two days, ever since the contract documents were ready.
But the main reason I’d agreed was to make sure everything was equal—even the ownership of my dowry and Atlas.
Viktor had been furious when I’d told his lawyer to change that part. And I had no desire to escalate that discussion further. If he wanted to share, I wanted to as well. And if he wanted me to sign the contract, he’d better agree to my terms.
When I looked at Papa after setting down my empty glass, his expression was anxious. “What are you changing?”
“Ah! It’s called Community of Property,” I said, realizing what I’d said earlier might not have sounded right without context.
“Community of Property?” His eyes widened.
I nodded. “Yes. And I need to make sure the changes I requested were followed.”
“Like what?”
“Like the ones that give me more than Viktor. I don’t want that. And with my own lawyer, I can be sure there are no hidden clauses protecting me at his expense.” I leaned forward. “So do you think Mr. Anderson can help?”
My father blinked, then chuckled in disbelief.
“What?”
“I’m not sure if I’m in admiration of your ability to wrap a man like him around your finger or terrified of it.”
“Oh, he was wrapped long before. You actually undersold me.”
“Young miss, watch your tongue. I didn’t sell you.”
“Don’t get hung up on words.” I dismissed him with a wave.
“If you think I didn’t know I was only losing with that deal, you’re wrong,” he murmured. “I was planning to involve you in the business. And seeing your results now, you at the head of Moreau Group would have brought much more to the family.”
“And I know it.” Yet hearing the confirmation still made my heart flutter. “And I’m thankful for everything you did to help me achieve this. But Viktor… He…” I waved my hands in the air, hoping that would be enough of an answer.
The expression that appeared on Papa’s face was one I’d never seen. Calm, yet joyful and proud.
“I am glad your marriage turned out this well. That you are happy. And loved. That’s all any parent could wish for.
” His eyes glistened. “But so you know, you were always a bulldozer. Yes, something happened, and you stalled—ran out of fuel. And maybe Viktor got you running again a little sooner, but you were already finding your way back.” He smiled.
“I’m not complaining, though. Just know he gained much more from this marriage.
And good that he decided to appreciate it the right way. ”
The furniture, the decorations, and even the bedding in my old room were the same as the day I’d married Viktor. Even some of my old belongings that I’d left behind were still hanging in the closet.
I’d thought my heart would squeeze—either with pain or longing.
But strangely, I felt nothing. As if this wasn’t the room I’d locked myself in for five years, refusing to leave except when absolutely necessary to keep up appearances.
I circled the room, touching the surface of my wooden bed, my desk, the walls.
Nothing.
Maybe later, when I was home, it would sink in? Or maybe next time I visited?
I stepped closer to the window, looking out at the garden, at the terrace where my wedding altar had once stood. Soon it would be a year since the day I’d thought marked the beginning of my own personal hell.
Well, my devil had proved surprisingly incompetent.
Not that I was complaining. At least he was competent in other fields.
Like getting my soul to leave my body with a flick of his tongue.
I trembled at the morning memory of Viktor’s mouth between my legs.
I’d thought I was the insatiable one in our relationship, but he seemed determined to prove me wrong. Again, not that I was complaining.
“Fifi!” It was a mixture of Cath’s and Anne’s voices coming from the doorway.
They entered the room, still in their outside attire, and judging by their surprise, the housekeeper hadn’t passed along the news.
My lips curved in a smile, and unlike with Papa, I nearly flew to both of them, hugging them together.
I wasn’t sure whose voice was loudest or most cheerful—mine or theirs.
But I certainly remembered getting pulled from right to left, back to right, and again to the left.
Before the sound of something heavy dropping brought us to a halt.
Mamma.
She was standing in the hallway, and even from afar, the trembling of her lips was visible. She covered them with her palm before sinking to her knees.
“M-Mamma?” The word came out half-hoarse as I hurried to her, helping her back to her feet. She hugged me so tightly that the air left my lungs, and didn’t let go even after a minute. Or two, or three.
“I’m sorry I worried you so much,” I said.
She shook her head, finally looking into my face. “My girl.” Her eyes were watery, her nose red.
“Fifi!” Cath called eagerly. “Can you come here? I need to know all the details.”
“Me too,” Anne said, practically bouncing behind my sister.
Mamma ignored their excitement, looking into my eyes. “Will you stay for dinner?”
“Yes. Can Viktor join too?”
“That goes without saying.”
“And Mark!” Cath added, before pulling me back to my old room under our mother’s laughter.
“So tell us. Did you?” Anne asked the second Cath closed the door, not letting me catch my breath.
I wiggled my eyebrows and sat on my bed. These girls probably wouldn’t let me out until they got every detail.
Not that I was going to share everything.
But there were many things I probably could.
And who knew how fast hours could fly? There was still so much to talk about when we were informed dinner was ready.
And my husband had actually arrived. I looked out the window, and there he was, sitting on the terrace with Mark and Rafa.
Agreeing to continue our conversation after dinner, I hurried downstairs and couldn’t help hugging him from behind. I was expecting “Manners, Fifi” from Mamma, but all she did was smile, gesturing us toward the table under the veil.
Viktor looked up, giving me my favorite smile—full of warmth. “Sophie,” he said as he rose from his seat, not letting go of my hand. But before I could say anything, Anne’s laughter sounded behind me. When I turned, she gestured back at Rafael. His face—pure confusion.
“Rafa!” I released Viktor’s hand for a moment, going back toward my brother.
He stayed still, even when I leaned in to hug him. But when I pulled back, he stood as well, reaching for a second hug.
“Well,” he said, lowering his voice, “as much as I hate being proven wrong, this one actually feels nice.”
When he released me, his gaze shifted to my husband. Yet Viktor only rolled his eyes and slipped his hand into his pocket. I smiled, reached back for him as we all went to the table.
It was nice. So nice I had to remind myself to breathe.
A year ago, I’d sat at this table unable to bear anyone’s touch. Now I couldn’t stop reaching for them. Couldn’t stop touching, being touched, feeling alive again.
I shifted, noticing Mamma’s attention on my plate. She shook her head when I gave her a questioning look, and only seconds later it occurred to me—this was the first time I was eating without checking the clock at my family’s table.
Viktor noticed it too, and as his hand found mine, his thumb brushed over my knuckles.