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We stop at my apartment, not his—which I assume is for my comfort, not his. I’m sure if Dmitri had it his way, he’d chain me to his bed and never let me leave. But I’ve had enough of cages for a lifetime, and I think he can sense that.
Still, it feels vaguely wrong to come in here. The apartment is still half-empty and it feels aloof, sterile. I find myself longing for the life and warmth of the penthouse upstairs. I want the room to smell like him, because every time he pulls even an inch away from me, the air starts to feel toxic and foul. It’s Dmitri’s scent I want to breathe in, not the tang of generic lavender cleaning product.
Quashing those thoughts, I allow him to lead me into the bedroom. But when he tries to pull me towards the mattress, I resist, turning instead towards the window seat.
“You need to lie down, Wren.”
“I’ve spent the last three weeks lying down. I want to look out a proper window. I want to see the city.”
I hike my dress up and try to hoist myself onto the window seat. That proves hard to do with my belly and the oozing scab of my cut, but Dmitri helps me up despite the disapproval on his face.
Then his eyes fall to my legs. “Is that blood? Fuck. I should have taken you straight to a hos?—”
“Dmitri,” I interrupt softly, placing my hand on his arm. “It’s okay. It’s not what you think. I cut myself.”
He freezes. “You… cut yourself?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “It was the only way I could convince Cian to take me to see Dr. Liza. I cut my inner thigh and pretended as though my preeclampsia was acting up and Liza was the only one who could help me.”
“You don’t have preeclampsia.”
I shrug. “He didn’t know that.”
He releases a soft whistle and the first hint of a smile I’ve seen since the car crash twitches in the corner of his mouth. “You’re a marvel.” Then the smile disappears. “But I still need to get you cleaned.”
I grimace and hook my hand in the crook of his elbow to drag him down onto the window seat with me. “I can’t get up right now, Dmitri. Actually, no—I just don’t want to get up.”
He considers that for a moment, then he nods. “Okay. We can just sit here for a while. Can I get you anything while we wait for Liza?”
“I’m okay. He fed me well, actually. I always had enough to eat and drink.”
The ripple of anger that flushes across Dmitri’s face is unmistakable and terrifying. His entire body constricts; even his knuckles go white. “If he treated you well, it was for his benefit, not yours.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Do you need a reminder of what happened?” Dmitri’s eyes flash fiercely. “He fucking abducted you, Wren.”
“So did you.”
I cringe internally. Okay, so that probably wasn’t the best thing to say under the circumstances. I honestly didn’t mean it to come across as a reprimand; I’m just trying to make a point.
But Dmitri is long past listening.
“I was trying to protect you. From men like him,” Dmitri snaps. “You’re carrying my son!”
“I know! I know. I didn’t?—”
“Cian is a bottom feeder. I made the mistake of assuming he was harmless, compared to his brother, but I can see now that I was wrong?—”
“Dmitri—”
He pounces off the window seat and starts pacing furiously around the room. “Three weeks. Three fucking weeks! He kept you for three fucking weeks and sent me goading pictures to rub my failure in my face.”
“Your failure…?”
“I failed to keep you safe. I failed to keep you secure. Just like I did with?—”
He breaks off, but I don’t need him to finish the sentence to know who he’s talking about. Elena’s unspoken name hangs between us heavily. My skin prickles with unease, the weight of my newfound knowledge pressing down on my shoulders like a boulder.
