Aleksander was sitting behind his desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Nathan was standing by the window, his back to the room, his silhouette sharp against the grey light. They didn't look surprised to see me. They'd been waiting.
"You're back," Aleksander said.
"I'm back."
Nathan turned. His eyes met mine, dark and searching. "You could have left. You could have gone anywhere."
"I know."
"Why didn't you?"
I walked into the room. The fire was lit, casting warm shadows across the walls. The books on the shelves stood like sentinels, guarding the secrets of the family that had built this empire.
"Because I'm not done yet," I said. "I'm not finished with any of you."
That night, I went to Aleksander's room first.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, his hands clasped between his knees. He looked up when I entered, and I saw the surprise in his eyes—quickly masked, quickly hidden.
"Monika," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm not going to choose," I said. "I'm never going to choose. But I'm not going to leave either."
He stood, walking toward me. His hands reached out, cupping my face, his thumbs tracing the line of my cheekbones.
"Then what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to stay. And I'm going to take what I want."
He kissed me. It was soft, almost tender, the kiss of a man who had been waiting for something he didn't think he deserved. I kissed him back, my hands on his chest, his heart beating beneath my palms.
He undressed me slowly, reverently, the way he'd done the first time. His hands traced the bruises on my body—the marks from the ropes, the shadows from the kidnapping—and he kissed every one of them.
"I love you," he said. "I know I don't deserve you. I know I've hurt you. But I love you."
"I know."
He made love to me gently, carefully, like I was something precious. I let him, because I needed to feel safe. Needed to feel that someone could touch me without taking something.
When it was over, I held him. His head was on my chest, his arms wrapped around me, his breathing slow and steady.
"I'm going to see Nathan," I said.
He tensed. But he didn't argue.
"I know," he said.
I found Nathan in his room.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, a glass of something dark in his hand. The room was dark, the only light coming from the moon through the window. He looked up when I entered, and I saw the wariness in his eyes.
"You went to him first," he said.
"Yes."
"Of course you did."
"Nathan—"
