“No.”
“Anya.”
“No.” My voice breaks, and I hate that too. “I’m not going back to the Volkovs.”
Sergei’s jaw tightens. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know enough.”
“You know nothing.”
“I know Dmitri had his hands on Katya an hour before he was supposed to marry me.”
His face changes.
Not with shock. With irritation.
He knew. Maybe not about Katya specifically, maybe not exactly, but he knew enough. He knew the kind of man Dmitri was. He knew what I would be expected to swallow.
The room tilts for a moment.
I stare at him. “You knew.”
“Men like Dmitri have weaknesses.”
“He was cheating on me.”
“And you think you’re the first woman in history to discover that before a wedding?”
I step back until my legs hit the bed. “I hate you.”
His eyes harden. “You are alive because of me.”
“No,” I say. “I’m trapped because of you.”
He moves toward me, and I grab the ashtray from the nightstand. “Don’t come closer.”
He stops.
For a second, we stare at each other.
I can see the calculation in his eyes. Not fear. He doesn’t think I’ll use it. He’s probably right, which makes me hate myself more.
“You have embarrassed powerful people,” he says.
“I was embarrassed first.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Then you are still a child.”
The ashtray feels heavy in my hand. My fingers ache around it.
“I won’t go back,” I say. “I won’t marry Dmitri. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what he says. I don’t care what anyone does.”
“I’m not taking you back to Dmitri.”
