Page 117 of Hate You Most

“You don't want to tell your father, that's completely fine—I get that, but I would like to tell my parents someday. I would like to tell my parents about this amazing woman I've married that makes every second of my life better. Someday. Because I don't want to take that with me to the grave.”

Viktoriya dropped her head, pushed a hand through her hair. She had no idea what to do. “You can't," she forced out.

“And you can't hide in this apartment for the rest of your life. That's not living, Viktoriya. You somehow think that this is neutral,” Dakota said. “You think that hiding here is the best possible thing for you, because then there's no rumors. But it’s not, it’s the same thing as leaving. It protects you, and it hurts everyone else around you.”

Viktoriya’s chest tightened. “It wouldn’t hurt you.”

She looked up. Dakota stared at her for a long moment, something raw flickering behind her eyes.

“You have already hurt me,” she said quietly. “You left before—I’m not letting you break my heart like that again.”

Viktoriya looked away, her vision blurring slightly at the edges. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted. “Everything I have done—every decision—it has always been about control. About minimizing the damage. About staying where I was supposed to be.”

“And how did that work out for you?” Dakota asked.

Viktoriya let out a hollow, humorless breath. “I tried to erase my own life.”

She didn't just try and erase her own life, she tried to erase her feelings for Dakota. She knew that, and Dakota knew that, and she couldn't get herself to say that aloud. If she hadn't fallen madly for Dakota, her life would've been one hell of a lot easier, but it would've also been incredibly unfulfilling.

“I know,” Dakota whispered. “You can't keep making decisions like they’ll only affect one part of your life, like you can isolate the damage.”

Viktoriya shook her head slightly, her hands curling tighter together. “You don’t understand what happens if I don’t.”

“Then explain it to me,” Dakota said, and took a step closer. “Because honestly, we keep pretending that we’re something we're not, and I don't know how much longer I can handle that."

Viktoriya’s pulse spiked. “It’s not pretending. It’s⁠—”

“It is,” Dakota cut in. “We’re married, Viktoriya. That’s not a hypothetical and it's not some dream, it's real. That’s not something you can run away from when it’s inconvenient for you. Not anymore at least.”

“I know that,” Viktoriya said quickly, almost defensively. “I know what it is.”

“Then act like it,” Dakota said.

Silence snapped between them.

Viktoriya looked away first, her breathing uneven. “You’re asking me to blow everything up. My entire life.”

“I’m asking you to stop letting other people decide what your life looks like!”

“That’s not how it works,” Viktoriya shot back. “Not where I come from. Not with—” she stopped herself, but it was too late.

“With your father?” Dakota finished.

Viktoriya didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

Dakota’s jaw tightened slightly. “He doesn’t get to control this.”

“He already does,” Viktoriya said, her voice dropping. “You don’t understand the reach he has. The things he can do if this… If we tell everyone.”

Dakota crossed her arms, but she didn’t step back. “Like what?”

Viktoriya hesitated.

“He will end what’s left of my career,” she said quietly. “He will make it impossible for me to return to Russia. It sounds stupid, I know—but it is still where I grew up. I have a younger sister, in Russia. We hardly talk but…” Her eyes flicked up, meeting Dakota’s. “She will probably be fined or imprisoned for my choices.”

Dakota held her gaze.

Viktoriya’s chest tightened, the words coming faster now, like once she started she couldn’t stop. “So my father gets to control everything. Not just where I go, or what I say, but what happens to the people connected to me. That’s how it works for me at home. It’s never just… contained to one person. I grew up knowing that. You don't step out of line, and you don't become difficult. I just wanted to do what was expected of me, but you made that fucking impossible because I fell frantically in love with you.” Her voice dropped slightly. “He doesn’t even have to do it himself. He just has to make a call, or let the right people know he’s unhappy, and suddenly everything becomes… different for me.”