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is down.
“Galina!” Arsen’s voice snaps me back to the present; sweat glides down my forehead. I wipe it away, but more replaces it.
“I don’t know why you’re hiding things from me. You have no reason to. Nothing you say can be worse than this tension between us.”
I want to believe him. I really do. But I’m trapped in the memory of the past. This is too familiar. Too close to the way Simon cornered me.
Summoning all my courage, I stare into Arsen’s eyes. He asked about my mom. Suspicion rises in me and turns my blood into acid. Is he trying to find out if she told me about Yevgeniy? But that would mean ... My heart stops. Does he already know? Could he have already known?
The possibility is terrifying. I search his face, morphed by rage, for clues. I need some proof that what I fear is happening here. Was Arsen’s plan to marry me based on the knowledge that Yevgeniy was my father? Was he using me as more than just bait, all while hiding the truth from me?
If so … that would be the biggest betrayal of all.
“I’m sorry I was acting weird,” I say carefully. “It’s not what you think it is. There’s no big secret or whatever; I’m just dealing with the reality of the baby.” I rub my belly for emphasis.
Arsen looks down at what I’m doing. His face smooths over, and he seems to become aware of how inappropriate his actions are.
Backing down the stairs, he makes space for me.
“I see.”
I wait for him to say more. An apology, another question, or just to tell me what he’s hiding. But he doesn’t. And at the thought that he might’ve already known about my relation to Yevgeniy, paranoia seizes me, slowly convincing me that he’s playing me for a fool. I’d convinced myself what we had was real.
Now, I’m not so sure. Arsen has shown himself to be a master at moving the pieces in this game of war.
And here, I’m just another pawn.
“Where are you going?” he asks me. His voice is gentler, but there’s still an edge to it.
Descending the stairs with extra care, I keep my eyes forward. “I’m getting a snack. Then I’m going to bed.”
“Galina, I’m sorry,” he says. “We can talk more when you come to my room.”
“I’m not going to your room.”
There’s shuffling on the stairs. I don’t glance back, but I’m sure it’s him starting to follow me. He stops, calling out instead. “Galina, it doesn’t have to be this way.”
Tipping my chin down, I fight to keep my voice steady. But inside, I’m a tornado of agony. “Yes, it does.”
37
ARSEN
A walk under the stars doesn’t bring me clarity. It’s a spontaneous decision, one made from a desperate need to recalibrate my emotions. I don’t have a jacket on, and the night air scrapes over my skin, worming into my bones. It’s awful, but it’s still not enough to distract me from the chaos in my soul.
I should have apologized sooner. Or more enthusiastically. Regrets are useless. I can’t escape them. The memory of her face, the way she shrank on the stairs, sends shame coursing through my soul. I kick the gravel on the path aimlessly as I wander through the grounds. I don’t watch where I’m going because it doesn’t matter.
The only place I want to be is at her side.
A sound reaches me. Looking up, I see that I’ve made it to the separate room on the other side of the mansion grounds. There’s light emanating from the window, and wind carries the sound of multiple voices to me.
When I get closer, I recognize a few of my men through the glass. Nikolai, Iosif, and Mikhail are inside. They have glasses of something I suspect is vodka in their grip. Mikhail spills some when he slaps Nikolai on the back, laughing at some joke I can’t hear.
Suddenly, all three of them cheer; they clink their glasses, swig them, then refill them to the brim.
They’re having fun. This is what it looks like to be unburdened by your mistakes. Watching for a while, I pay attention to how friendly they are. I don’t think I’ve allowed myself to have fun in a long time.
Misery cloaks me and I turn away, shuffling back to the mansion. The guards at the front door nod to me when I shrug by them. The stairs shake beneath my heavy footsteps until I reach my room. I want to slam the door, but I resist.
