Page 30 of The Lies Between Lovers

“You need a better beard oil.”

He grunted out a disgruntled noise. “I ran out of what I like.”

It would be so much easier for her if his presence didn’t make her feel almost airless. Weightless, and unseen. To the rest of the world, anyway. She could forget right where they stood, what had come before that moment, all to be looking at him.

And Vas?

All he did was demand, “Now tell me what you know, yes?”

It wasn’t a question, though he posed it like one. An open-ended one that came with his heavy tone. An order he expected her to follow because he was the kind of man who accepted nothing less. Still intoxicated by his closeness and his overbearing demeanor that drove her crazy left her unsure of how to respond. She knew a great deal about a lot of things, and very little about much more.

Between them there was only one thing she thought was important.

“All I know,” she started, “is that you want me to be your wife.”

Not why.

Or when.

Those seemed like important details to her.

“I can’t marry a man who doesn’t love me,” Vera said. “Who won’t even give me a reason why he wants to marry me other than he likes what he sees.”

Never mind a man she didn’t love.

Vaslav tucked a stray strand of hair behind Vera’s ear before his fingertips stroked along her cheek. “Fair enough ... but would you marry a dying one?”

He didn’t give her the opportunity to consider what he asked before he pushed away and headed for her front door. Vera, still trying to catch her breath and get up to speed with the way the conversation had shifted so suddenly, didn’t move when he gripped the edge of the door and moved to stand on the threshold.

With one look back, he told her, “She only needs watered a couple of times a week. I’ll be seeing you, Vera. Bet on that.”

She didn’t look away when he closed the door. Her heart didn’t stop racing when it latched shut, either.

What did he mean?

Surely, he wasn’t serious.

By the time the shock wore off and Vera darted for the door—determined to demand an explanation for his parting words—she wrenched it open at the same time the tires of the Rolls-Royce screeched when Vaslav pulled away from the curb. She was left standing on the threshold, the autumn breeze chilling her on the spot, while her mind still spun.

He was like a hurricane. She was that same old tattered flag being battered in his winds.

“Vera?” she heard called.

Realizing she was no longer alone because her neighbor had come to stand at his fence line again, she tried to shake off the chaos warring in her mind and heart. Hair mussed; lips still tender ... could he tell?

God, she hoped her neighbor hadn’t seen them.

“Are you okay?” Mr. Anatoly asked.

She kept staring where the white Rolls had once been, and decided to be honest because who else was she going to tell?

“I don’t know, Mr. Anatoly. I don’t know anything at all.”

The old neighbor let out a chuffed laugh, muttering under his breath as he turned away from the fence, “Yeah, men like that one tend to do that to you.”

9.

Vera didn’t need yet another week off work—the one consistent thing in her life that got her out of bed every day and moving was teaching the kids at The Swan House. What was only supposed to be a couple of weeks for the construction to fix whatever damage was left behind by the broken water pipe had been extended longer than she liked. It also wasn’t something she could help.