Page 45 of Savage Truce

Pulling my hand free from his, I rush toward the sewing machine sitting on a large worktable. As I brush my hand over the heart of any sewing room, I take in all the spools of thread in every color I could possibly need that are lying beside boxes of needles and pins.

Gosh, there are even scissors, measuring tapes, chalk, and all the little things I used every day at the theater.

Turning around, my eyes land on rolls of cotton, linen, satin, chiffon, lace, and other beautiful fabrics that are stacked along one of the walls. I move closer and skim my fingers over them before turning in a slow circle.

This is heaven.

My throat closes, and another tear slips down my cheek as I press my fingers to my lips.

Rodian is giving me a place where I can create art again.

For the past five years, everything that made me me was stripped away until I barely remembered the woman I used to be. But standing here, surrounded by fabrics and threads, with a state-of-the-art sewing machine, I’m reminded of a happier time.

When I turn to face him, he seems upset. Shaking his head, he says, “It shouldn’t be this easy to make you happy.” Closing the distance between us, he brushes his hand over the back of my head before pulling me into a hug. “I hate what happened to you so fucking much.”

Lifting on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his neck, and my voice is hoarse as I whisper, “Thank you for this amazing gift.”

His grip tightens for a moment before he lets go and walks to the door. “Remember our date at seven. Until then, I’ll tell everyone to leave you alone so you can enjoy yourself in your new workshop.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, but pulls the door shut behind him as he leaves.

For a few seconds, I just stand still, staring at everything, then a little burst of excitement flutters through my heart, and it feels as if the organ is revived after years of lying dormant.

I know exactly what I want to make first.

There’s a dress pattern I used to love, one I made in several different fabrics and colors because it made me feel beautiful.

I spend the next couple of hours arranging everything exactly where I want it. Stopping in front of the different fabrics, I decide to go with silk first. I place the roll on the table, and picking up the scissors, the familiar sound of the blades cutting through the fabric sends an unexpected rush of emotion through me.

It’s nothing compared to the moment I sit behind the sewing machine and press my foot to the pedal. As the machine hums, the chaotic mess inside me grows quiet.

Luckily, there’s a clock on the wall so I can keep an eye on the time, and as soon as it’s six pm, I have to force myself to stop so I can get ready for the date.

I haven’t thought about it with everything that’s happened today, but as I leave the sewing room and walk to Rodian’s bedroom, nerves begin to spin in my stomach.

I’m not excited like I was the first time he asked me out, but instead, I feel apprehensive.

What if he gets to know me better and realizes he doesn’t like me the way he thought?

What if our personalities aren’t compatible down the road?

I know he’ll still marry me because he wants peace for the Bratva, but will he be happy being married to a woman he doesn’t love?

And what about me? I don’t want to live the rest of my life only being used because of my family name.

If we marry and there’s nothing between us because the attraction dies away, will we eventually become strangers sharing a house? Will he find the love he wants in another woman’s arms while I’m expected to smile and accept it because I’m just a tool that was used to placate my grandfather’s associates?

The thoughts make my stomach tighten, and by the time I enter Rodian’s bedroom, the peace I managed to find while sewing is gone.

CHAPTER 15

Rodian

Giving Anastasia some alone time, I head to the kitchen to check on my family.

I can hear Mom and Aunt Marina chatting up a storm about the wedding, wondering what wedding dress Anastasia will choose.

Stopping in the middle of the foyer, I mentally go over the list. I had Tamara, who’s one of Sergei’s sisters and an event planner, send out electronic invites. She will also take care of the flowers, furniture, and catering. I’ll wear one of my black suits.