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I feel my stomach flip. “Andrei picked the design himself?”

“Yes, he did.” Her eyes sparkle. “I can’t wait to see little Anya’s face when she wakes up in the morning.”

I manage a small smile because I know my daughter is going to lose her mind over the pink walls, the fairy lights, and all those stuffed animals.

“I couldn’t find my things in the bedroom,” I say slowly. “Just Anya’s stuff.”

Daria nods without hesitation. “Mr. Popov asked for your belongings to be moved to the master bedroom.”

I open my mouth to ask why, but then close it again. She’s only following orders. There’s no point pressing her.

Instead, I ask, “Where is Andrei?”

“He isn’t back yet,” she answers. “He said he had some business to handle tonight.”

I nod, trying to ignore the strange mix of relief and disappointment swirling in my chest.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

I can’t help the smile that appears on my face at the image of Andrei Popov, sitting at his laptop, carefully choosing pink walls and fairy lights for a little girl he only just met.

And no matter how hard I try to push it away, that stubborn tug in my heart refuses to let go.

“Miss Rosie, do you need anything before I retire for the night?” Daria asks kindly.

I manage a small smile. “No, thank you. I’m okay. Goodnight.”

She nods and disappears down the hallway.

I continue up to Andrei’s bedroom, the master suite. The moment I step inside and close the door behind me, memories from two nights ago slam into me yet again. The bed. The way he had me bent over it. I blink hard, shoving the thoughts away. Not now.

I need to find my things and move them somewhere else. Preferably far away from this room and the memories that live in it.

The bedroom is enormous, so I start searching for the closet. I open the first door I find, it leads into another room entirely. A massive walk-in closet.

I step inside. The left side is filled with Andrei’s clothes, row after row of dark suits, crisp shirts, tailored jackets, all in blacks, charcoals, and deep navies. Unable to help myself, I start snooping.

I open a few drawers and find them neatly organized: rows of silk ties folded perfectly, several expensive watches lined up. How many watches can one person possibly own?

I move deeper into the closet, and that’s when my eyes catch on the other end of the space.

Female clothes. Dozens of them. Designer dresses, blouses, jeans, coats, shoes. My stomach drops. Whose are these?

A girlfriend? But he told me there hasn’t been anyone since me. Did he lie? Why would he bring Anya and me here if he had a woman? Unless she’s out of town…

I spot my own bag sitting neatly next to the section, but I ignore it. Instead, I walk over and pull open one of the drawers.

Jewelry. Lots of it. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, some of them look like real gold and diamonds.

I mutter under my breath, “Are those real gold?”

A deep, familiar voice answers from behind me.

“Yes.”

I spin around so fast I nearly lose my balance. Andrei is standing in the doorway of the closet, watching me with that intense, unreadable gaze. In one hand, he holds a bottle of vodka and in the other two crystal glasses. How long has he been standing there?

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, feeling caught. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I was just looking for my things and—”