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The lesson is a disaster.
I get eggshells in the mixing bowls, the butter burns when I try to brown it, and I overmix a meringue so badly the peaks aren’t only stiff, but sticky like glue. Véronique is trying to be kind, but I can tell her patience is waning. She hovers around me, correcting my mistakes and making sure nothing catches on fire, and I just try to keep my head together.
I thought leaving the Volkov mansion would make it easier not to think about Luka, but he is at the forefront of my mind all the time. Seeing him coming and going on the rare times he came back to the mansion were apparently the only thing keeping me sane. Now, I have no idea where he is, what he is doing, or whether he cares I’m gone or not. And it is driving me crazy.
“Why don’t I crack the eggs while you…” Véronique looks around for a task I can complete on my own without ruining everything. “Get the custard out of the refrigerator!”
Moving a bowl from the refrigerator proves a task fit for my skills, and I manage to set it on the counter without dropping it on the floor. I swear the chef lets out a sigh of relief like she was actually nervous.
I almost wish Luka would just show up. Every time the door swings open, I look to make sure it isn’t him. It is distracting to the point I’m not even sure what Véronique and I are baking.
She turns off the stand mixer and points out the stiff peaks in the meringue to me—I know what stiff peaks look like, but I don’t blame her for thinking I don’t—just as there is a commotion outside the kitchen door. She pulls her blonde brows together in concern and then, suddenly, the door swings open.
I have one thought: Luka. He came for me. He blew his way past the hostess and the cooks and is coming to get me. I have no idea whether I’ll resist or not, but there is something like relief filling my chest at the thought that he is in the same building as me again.
Except, it isn’t Luka. It’s my father.
“Dad?”
His face is red, and he charges towards me. Véronique moves out of the way without hesitation. She may be a tough chef in the kitchen, but she has no interest in taking on my father. When he orders her to give us a minute alone, she practically sprints for the doors.
“What is going on?”
“You know what is going on,” he snaps, stepping too close to me, his breath sour on my skin. He has been drinking. “Ivan Volkov called me. He told me you reneged on the deal.”
“How did you find me?” I ask. I never told him about my lessons with Véronique.
“You still have your tracking device on.” He points to the bracelet. So, it was a real tracker. At least now I know I didn’t fall for a dumb trick. “Ivan told me where I could find you. Why did you run away? Is this because of the hormones? Your mother lost her mind when she was pregnant with you. I couldn’t even talk to the woman for nine months.”
“No, it isn’t just my hormones,” I snap before a realization washes over me. I narrow my eyes. “How do you know about the pregnancy?”
“Chiara.”
God, can I trust anyone?
“Because Chiara cares what happens to this family, unlike you.” He grabs my arm and pulls me towards the door. “Go back to Luka’s. Now. This can still be salvaged, and then—”
A heartbreaking reality opens up in front of me. My father knows about my pregnancy, and he doesn’t care. I’m pregnant with his first grandchild, and he hasn’t asked how I’m doing. He doesn’t want to know if I’ve been to a doctor or how I’m feeling. He is just worried about getting me back to his enemy so his life can be easier. He doesn’t care about me at all.
“And then what?” I yell. “Then you can find some new way to use me?”
“Eve,” he says, rolling his eyes like I’m being ridiculous.
“You’ve tried to marry me off to your enemies twice now. This last time was successful, so congratulations,” I say, clapping my hands sarcastically. “But I’m done doing what you tell me to do. You say I don’t care about the family, but that is all you care about. You certainly don’t give a shit about me.”
“That isn’t true.” The vein in his forehead is throbbing. Usually, I’d be concerned about his blood pressure, but if he doesn’t care about me, why should I care about him?
“I’m your pretty little pawn, and I’m not going to do it anymore.” I step away from him and cross my arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He stares down at me, nostrils flaring, lips smashed together. And then, without another word, he turns and leaves.
The doors swing shut behind him, and I think I’ve won. I think I’ve finally gained independence from my worthless father. No one comes back into the kitchen, so I clean up the perishables on the counter and head out the back door. The lesson was a bust, anyway. I couldn’t focus on anything.
I unlock my car doors as I get close, and as soon as the lights flash, there is a bang of light and then the ground rocks underneath me.
I drop to my knees and throw one hand over my head, the other over my stomach. Debris flies everywhere, and my ears are ringing as I stare at the destruction. Then, everything goes dark.
24
