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Caterina
My heart is racing as Viktor opens the door for me to walk into my new home. I hadn’t expected to win that fight. I hadn’t even known what I’d really do if he’d refused to back down, if he’d ordered me to his bed. Would I really have gone to Luca and threatened the fragile peace in order to save myself from sleeping with Viktor again? Could I have lived with myself and all the bloodshed that would have followed if I’d done that?
It doesn’t matter now,I tell myself as I walk inside, because Viktor gave in. We’ll do IVF, and my life won’t be what I’d hoped for after Franco’s death, but I won’t spend night after night in the bed of a man I despise at least. I love children; I can handle mothering his daughters. I’ll enjoy having children of my own, and hopefully, it won’t take long for me to become pregnant. With any luck, the first baby will be a boy, and I won’t have to tolerate Viktor any longer. Men in any crime family aren’t known for being hands-on fathers, and I doubt Viktor will have anything to do with the child until he’s old enough to be taught his father’s business. For a few precious years, my child will be all mine, and Viktor will likely only be a cursory presence in our lives.
Or so I’m hoping, anyway. He was already much kinder with his daughters than I would have expected.He seems to take some interest in them,I think, as he starts to lead me into the main part of the house.But maybe it’s just because their mother is dead.
I still don’t know what happened to Viktor’s first wife. I don’t even know what her name was. He doesn’t strike me as a man who would have killed her, but the entire thing still makes me uneasy. What if she was unfaithful? What if he lost patience with her? Could that be me if I don’t tread carefully?
Viktor is terse and curt as he shows me around the house. It’s hardly welcoming, and the curious glances I catch from the staff as we pass by don’t help either. But the house itself is beautiful. The outside was stone, with an arched doorway and ivy climbing up the grey and white stone, and inside, it has the same sort of old-world, almost rustic feel, but with a kind of elegance. The ceilings have dark wood exposed rafters, and there are expensive rugs everywhere, covering the gleaming hardwood floors. “There’s a lot of the house you won’t need to bother with for a while,” he says shortly, showing me the main living room. “I don’t often throw parties or dinners, but I expect now that I have a wife some of that will be expected me—and therefore of you. But you’ll manage to explore the whole house on your own in time.”
The furniture in the main living room, which is huge and hung with art that all looks expensive, with a massive stone fireplace as the centerpiece, is comfier-looking than I would have thought it would be. It’s all elegant and expensive, not exactly child-friendly. The deep green velvet sofa looks like something I’d enjoy curling up on. It’s deep and covered in pillows, and I’m absolutely certain from that and the rest of the furnishings that Viktor didn’t decorate this place himself.
Which leaves me to wonder, did his dead wife decorate? Am I living in her home, really? And if so, how does that make me feel?
I shouldn’t care. This place isn’t really ever meant to feel like my home. I’m here because in the end, it was my only real choice. Not for love, not to make a home. But part of me aches at that thought. If I can’t have love, shouldn’t I at least have a place where I feel good? Where I feel safe?
I push the thought out of my head as Viktor shows me the rest of the house. He takes me on a quick walk through the kitchen, where he introduces me to Helen, the household cook. She’s pleasant enough, although she makes it clear she doesn’t want to see a great deal of me in the kitchen, “puttering about,” as she puts it. He points out his study, which he tells me pointedly not to go into, and where Anika and Yelena’s rooms are. There are more guest bedrooms than even in my old home, and a library that I can see from the moment we walk in will be a haven for me. It’s a dream, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a fireplace, and lounge chairs. My heart sinks when I hear Viktor say that he likes to spend evenings in there. My hope is to stay as far away from Viktor as possible, not pass evenings in the same room with him.
“You’ll sleep with me in my room,” Viktor says, and before I can open my mouth to protest, he holds up a hand. “If we sleep separately, there will be gossip. I, personally, will have to deal with Olga’s disapproval over this hitch in our new marriage, and so will you. And since you’ll be spending a considerable amount more time at home here with her than I will, I’ll warn you now, Olga’s disapproval is not a pleasant thing.”
“You sound as if you like her.” I laugh when I say it because there is a certain fondness about how he speaks about her. It surprises me because I hadn’t really thought Viktor could feel that sort of fondness for anyone, let alone the elderly housekeeper.
“She’s been a great help to me with Yelena and Anika since their mother died,” Viktor says. “She’s worked very hard to see that my daughters were not neglected, in addition to everything else she has to do to keep this house running. Now that you’re here, I expect that her workload will decrease a great deal. And that begins with not causing unnecessary gossip among the servants. Do you understand me?”
I want to fight him on it. There’s nothing I want more than a room of my own, a place to sleep alone, to not have to fall asleep next to Viktor every night. I want peace and quiet, to be left alone more than anything else in the world. But I know instinctively that this is not a battle I should fight. If I do, I risk losing the battle I’ve already won, the one that’s most important to me. Does it really matter if I have to sleep in Viktor’s bed, as long as I don’t have to actually have sex with him?
“Fine,” I bite out. “Whatever keeps the peace, right?”
“Precisely.” Viktor smiles blandly at me. “Here we are.”
The master suite, like everywhere else in the house, is decorated in a way that suggests Viktor had no hand in it. The furniture is all deep, dark wood, the bed a canopied four-poster with velvet swags and a heavy deep blue velvet duvet, along with quilted, crisp white shams to match the sheets and pintucked velvet throw cushions. It looks like a bedroom out of a magazine, right down to the cobalt, grey, and cream rug on the floor next to it and the blue velvet armchairs next to the fireplace.
“The bathroom is through there,” Viktor says, inclining his head towards a half-open door. “There’s a soaking tub I’m sure you’ll enjoy. If the door is closed, I promise I won’t intrude.”
It’s the kindest thing he’s said to me since we got “home,” and I manage a small smile. “Thanks,” I say quietly, glancing at the door.
The truth is, I don’t really want to fight with my new husband. I, too, want something like peace. But I’m also terrified of losing myself in this new marriage. I almost lost myself once already, with Franco. I’m very afraid of it happening again.
“Lunch will be served soon,” Viktor says. “I’m not usually home, but I’ll eat with you and the girls today. And then—” he shrugs. “I suppose you can occupy your time however you like until dinner. Tomorrow will be more normal. The beginnings of normal, I suppose.”
I look around the bedroom, this new space that I’ll be sharing with him. None of my things are here yet, they’re all being brought over from my old house tomorrow, but even once I have my things here, I don’t expect they’ll make much of an impact on this room. I’m bringing clothes, some books, jewelry. No furnishings, no decorations. This room is never going to feel like my own.
I can’t let it get to me, though. I force myself not to think about it as Viktor takes me to show me the outside, the back gardens, the pool, and the greenhouse, and by the time he’s finished the remainder of the tour, it’s time for lunch.
Lunch is delicious, baked salmon and fresh salad and crusty bread, and I’m impressed at the quality of Helen’s cooking. I’m equally impressed by the fact that Anika and Yelena are eating the same food as us, only in child-sized portions. After they're excused, I mention it to Viktor while I’m still at the table with him. Neither child talked to me during lunch, although Yelena peered up at me through half-lidded, shy-looking eyes. Anika stubbornly ignored me, which I can respect.
“I’ve always believed in treating children as grown-up as they possibly can be,” Viktor says. “There were no sippy cups in this household. We treated them as capable from an early age, so they’ve grown up to be quite capable children. That extends to their dietary habits. They’ve learned to enjoy real, quality food, and Helen works hard to make sure that it’s all well-prepared.”
“It was delicious,” I agree. I pause then, realizing how little I actually know about the two children I’m meant to be a mother to now, besides their names. “How old are they?”
“Anika is nine and Yelena is seven,” Viktor says. “Anika is—quite grown up for her age, though. She’s the one you’ll likely find most difficult. She’s old enough to remember her mother even better than Yelena does.”
“How long--?” I break off, worried that I might upset him by asking about his late wife, but Viktor seems to be in a better mood after the meal.
“Three years ago,” he says quietly. “So Yelena was still very small. Anika only two years older, of course, but—it makes a difference.” He pauses, not quite meeting my eyes. “I know both of your parents have passed. Perhaps you can connect over that.”
They’re dead because of you and because of Franco.I don’t expect the sudden bitterness that wells up, but it’s there, burning the back of my throat like acid. I suddenly want to be anywhere but there with him, at the long dining table too big for the two of us and two small children. He feels too close, too much, sitting to my right, looking at me as if he doesn’t understand the expression on my face. As if he has no idea that my mother died because of the attack on the hotel that was his fault, part of his gambit with the Irish to bring Luca down. That my father’s machinations, their fight over Sofia, and Luca’s insistence on marrying her, led to my father’s death. That the ongoing war with the Bratva caused Luca’s father’s death, and his mother’s and Sofia’s parents too. So many parents lost because of all of this, and I still don’t even know why Viktor’s first wife died.
