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He helped me because it suited him. He kissed me because I initiated it. The logical part of me accepts all of it, so why can’t I still move past it? Why am I acting like I lost half my brain cells?

I cover my face for a second and breathe. I am not Anya’s mother. I am not Nikolai’s girlfriend. I am not part of that family. I am an employee who forgot where the lines were because a lonely little girl held my hand and her father looked at me like he wanted me.

That’s all.

I need to go back inside. I need to get through the party, get through the drive home, and then pack before Nikolai decides whether to fire me.

I wipe under my eyes even though I have not cried. Then I hear someone behind me. For one second, I think it is Nikolai, and I am already turning with anger in my chest.

But it’s not Nikolai.

Evan stands a few feet away near the narrow space between the townhouse and the next building.

I freeze.

He looks almost exactly the same—prim and proper and not a thing out of place. The version of him strangers always believed. The version that made me look unreasonable whenever I tried to explain what he was really like.

His eyes move over my clothes, my face, the fading bruise, the small bandage near my temple.

Then he smiles.

“There you are,” he says. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

17

NIKOLAI

I know I went too far when Elara turns from the food table and walks away without another word.

For a moment, I stay where I am, watching her move through the hallway with her shoulders straight and her head lifted, as if pride alone is keeping her from falling apart in front of a room full of strangers. I should let her go. She crossed a line today, and I had every right to remind her of it. She took Anya out of my house, lied to my men, hid my daughter in a car, and then stood in front of me still half-convinced that Anya’s happiness made the risk acceptable.

She needed to hear the truth.

She is not Anya’s mother.

She cannot make decisions for my daughter because she cares about her.

All of that’s true.

So why do I feel like shit?

Guilt isn’t useful. Men like me don’t carry it around unless we want it used against us. I have done things far worse than hurt a woman’s feelings beside a table of cupcakes, and I have slept afterward without trouble.

But Elara’s face stays with me. Just going quiet in a way that made me feel like I had confirmed something ugly she already believed about herself.

I draw in a slow breath and turn toward the hallway.

A couple of mothers near the drinks table move into my path before I can reach the door. One smiles too brightly, holding a paper plate in one hand.

“Mr. Volkov, I just wanted to say, it’s very sweet that you came. Anya looked so happy when she saw you.”

“I need to step outside.”

“Oh, of course, but I was wondering whether⁠—”

“Excuse me.”

I move past her before she can finish.