“No, please. Let me finish.” She takes a shaky breath. “I know you had your reasons for leaving, but—”
“Had myreasons?” I cut in. “You know exactly why I left. You and your husband kicked me out!”
Silence stretches between us. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter. “I know things were difficult with Yuri. That you two never quite… connected.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Connected? Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“Vincent, please. I’m not calling to rehash old arguments. I’m calling because I want to see you.”
The words feel like a punch. See me? After everything that happened?
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say.
“Please,” she presses. “Just dinner. At the house. It would mean so much to me.”
The house. The Orlov estate. The place where Yuri still rules with an iron fist.
“I can’t go back there,” I say, my voice dropping to almost a whisper. “You know I can’t.”
“Vincent,” she says, and I hear the tears she’s fighting. “Please. Just one dinner. That’s all I’m asking.”
My chest tightens, breath coming shorter. The thought of seeing Yuri again, of stepping foot in that house, makes panic spiral through me. I imagine him somehow knowing what happened in the Champagne Room, seeing the evidence of my shame written on my face. Knowing that his son got hard for his stepbrother, and worse, that I responded.
“Yuri,” I manage to say, the name sticking in my throat. “He’d be there.”
“Yes,” she admits. “But Vincent, you don’t need to be afraid of him. He knows about this call. He’s… he’s on board with you visiting.”
A cold chill runs down my spine. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Why?” I demand. “Why would he want to see me?”
My mother sighs. “People change, Vincent. Five years is a long time. He’s… mellowed.”
I almost laugh at that. Yuri Orlov, mellowed. Like saying a great white shark has developed vegetarian tendencies.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“That’s your choice. But I’m asking you, as your mother, to give this a chance. I miss you. I want to see your face. Is that so wrong?”
The raw honesty in her voice chips away at my resolve. Despite everything she and her husband did to me, I’ve missed her. I’ve been wondering if she’s okay, if Yuri treats her well, if she ever thinks of me.
“I don’t know,” I say, and I hear the crack in my voice.
“I miss you,” she repeats, softer this time. “Please, Vincent.”
“One dinner,” I hear myself say, the words escaping before I can pull them back. “Just one.”
“Yes,” she breathes, relief flooding her voice. “Just one. Next Saturday? Seven o’clock?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, already regretting my weakness. “Fine.”
“Thank you. You won’t regret this, I promise.”
But I already do. As soon as the call ends, the full weight of what I’ve agreed to crashes down on me. Dinner at the Orlov estate. Face to face with Yuri.
I drop my phone on the counter, my reflection staring back at me from the mirror—wide-eyed, pale, terrified. In a few days, I’ll walk back into the lion’s den, back into the world I fled in the middle of the night. Back to face the man whose threats still echo in my nightmares.
What the fuck have I just done?
