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I know that,I reflect with frustration.
Light bounces off the windows just across the street, piercing my vision.
“Need I remind you,” Stepan states firmly. “Your wife’s father was—”
“Murdered by his own men. I know.”
“Because he lost their respect. Because he did not defend his honor.” Stepan hums in agreement. “It’s as much a war within as it is without, Pavel Sergeyevich.”
“What would you have done about Kiril Vladimirovich? In that moment, if you were me. Would you have taken his stars?”
“No, Pavel Sergeyvich.” Stepan strokes his chin. “I would not have demanded Kiril’s stars.”
He takes a breath, and his face changes. Suddenly, he’s a soldier again, and his commander has ordered him to commit unspeakable violence without questioning. He lifts his hand and rubs his face tiredly, as he must have done a thousand times in the shattered concrete hell that was Chechnya.
“I would have demanded Kiril’shead.”
Chapter Seventeen
Liya
It’s the first time this week that we’ve spent any time together outside of the bedroom. We sit on the penthouse terrace on a balmy summer morning, sipping fresh tea that Viktoria prepared.
Longest week of my life.
During the day, I see a string of his men entering the penthouse to meet with him in his massive office. It’s the only place that I am not allowed in. I can only sit on the staircase and guess at what is happening behind those doors. Occasionally, I can hear a burst of raucous laughter or a round of furious applause.
But each time, his brigadiers leave with sweat near their ears. They have the same look as the investment banking interns who sit around a table at Blaczak’s Horseman after they just spent a whole day delivering bad reports to their bosses, whispering about not being invited back for a full-time offer when the summers are over.
I don’t have to know the details to know things aren’t going his way.
In many ways, a slave. In others, a queen.
All I’ve known under Pavel is being his slave.
Every night has been longer than the last. Each night, we repeat the same motions: Pavel will enter our room, turn me away from him, hold me down, and use me until he leaves me aching and filled. Then he will disappear and leave me alone with my thoughts
I shiver while staring into my cup of tea. “Didn’t think it would be chilly up here.”
Pavel startles me when he snaps his fingers without looking up. Viktoria appears with my knitted cardigan, the fabric softer than it ever has been before. She must have done something to it when she laundered it. The scent of vanilla wafts up from the fabric and makes me sigh. With a grateful grin, I squeeze her hand, my heart sinking when she retreats back into the penthouse.
Lucky, I think while cradling my mug.I don’t want to be here with the guy who should have sprouted hooves and horns at this point.
Despite my thoughts, Pavel looks remarkably normal today. His hair is messy from sleep, not yet styled, and his silk shirt flutters open at the collar to reveal a small patch of dark hair on his chest.Sunlight paves the terrace, blanketing the umbrella guarding our heads and flowing around us like a golden waterfall.
It’s gorgeous.
But it’s not.
It’s been a week since we got married, since we said our deceptive vows in front of the entirety of the Suvorov Bratva. Did the priest know we were just doing this as part of an agreement? Does everyone know?
I think while hugging my mug,When will this change?
I sip my tea, noting the burst of berries and cream, the layers of flavor exploding on my tongue. I should indulge in its taste. Paired with my view of the city, this should be nothing short of incredible. But somehow I can’t bring myself to enjoy any of it.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say hesitantly.
I wait for Pavel to respond, watching his emotionless features, his cold eyes, his tightly drawn lips.
