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I’m expecting Dominik to leave immediately, just like he always does. I prepare myself to be ripped away from him again, just like I will be for the last time when I’m forced to marry Izet.
Instead, he sits on the edge of my bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket after he’s put himself back together.
I’m starting to feel less and less confident about my ability to play off Dominik’s baby as Izet’s. What will happen to him if everyone finds out? The timelines are going to be off, especially if something delays the wedding, which is more than likely to happen.
As I stare at his face illuminated by the light of his phone, I feel a pang of guilt and dread in the pit of my stomach.
Of course, I shouldn’t feel guilty about the baby – he had as much to do with creating this baby as I did. But the fact that he could suffer so much for it makes me want to burst into tears. I still don’t know how I’m ever going to tell him about it, especially with so much weighing on this damn wedding.
“You know, you would probably be better off working for someone else at this point,” I say, breaking the silence for the first time since we stopped fucking.
“What the fuck does that mean?” he replies, only partially engaged with what I said to begin with.
“It means that you’d be happier. I’m leaving anyway, and you know I’m the only thing keeping you tied to the Bratva,” I reply, sitting up and inching closer to him.
He looks up from his phone, turning to me with a look of disbelief. “What? Do you have any idea what you’re talking about right now? Please be serious, Mika.”
I’m insulted that he would question me, but in my heart of hearts I know that nobody leaves the Bratva. To suggest it would be to encourage his suicide, which is something I could never even think of doing.
“I am being serious. The Bratva is too dangerous for you, and it’s wearing on you. I can see it in your eyes when you think I’m not looking.”
He scoffs, and now I know I’ve made a mistake. “Mika, do you know what I did before I joined the Bratva? Have I ever told you?”
I shake my head, starting to wish that I had never said anything at all.
“I was a street fighter. I beat the shit out of people to pay my rent. Do you think that was less dangerous than working for your father?” he asks, turning his whole body to face me. “I don’t think you understand where I came from.”
Now I’m trapped. I have nothing else to say.Well, you’d be less likely to get eviscerated by every man who works for my father.
“Mika, you’re really very bold about your ignorance. You’ve hardly ever left your house, except for maybe a couple of times when you ran away. You don’t know what it’s like out there.”
Unwilling to back down but too scared to say more of the wrong thing, I start to panic internally. What did I even open my mouth for? What am I trying to accomplish here?
“Oh yeah? Well, maybe I was just being nice because I didn’t want to tell you that I don’t want you here,” I reply, crossing my arms.
“You think I give a shit about how you feel about me? You think I would give up my job because it’s what you want? Wow, I really underestimated how delusional you are,” he responds, his tone escalating from mildly annoyed to angry.
I’m taken aback, and my stomach is tied in knots. I should have known that this was a battle I didn’t want to fight. “Well, you should, because you’ve been fucking me basically the whole time you’ve been here. I could get you fired just as easily as I got you to fuck me!”
He grabs my wrist, gripping it harder than he usually does as he looks me deep in the eyes. “Mika, if you ever say anything about what we’ve done, you will never forgive yourself for what happens to me. Do you understand? Your father is evil. He will remind you every day for the rest of your life.”
I know he’s right. My father is a monster, and he’s shown me more than enough times for me to never forget it. Learning the true magnitude of his wrath would haunt me forever.
“Mika, I’m serious. If you want to see me live another day, you need to keep your goddamn mouth shut about this,” he continues as his voice takes on a grave, chilling quality.
I jerk my wrist away from him, and he scoffs at me. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re just going to keep acting like you’re above everything just because your daddy is rich. Whatever, fuck this.”
I’m shocked to actually see him leave, but I refuse to go after him or beg him to stay. That’s what he wants me to do. At least I hope so.
Now that I’ve started the process of driving him away, I feel my heart sinking in my chest. I don’t want him to leave me, not really. But I need to begin to separate myself from him in every way that I can – mentally, emotionally, and physically. The best way to do that so far has been to make him angry at me, but it leaves a void in me that I fear I’ll never be able to fill without him.
I’m angry that I have no choice but to leave the first person I had ever been vulnerable with. I would spend hours and hours imagining what it would be like to have someone, to feel the way that everyone else got to feel. My childhood was so devoid of emotion that I had an imaginary boyfriend when I was seven. Now that I’ve found someone that I could really love, I have to be the one to send him away.
I want to say that it all feels unfair, but that doesn’t feel adequate. This feels more like a karmic joke, as if maybe I’m going against my greater purpose by looking for love at all. Seeing Dominik’s confused expression when I treat him like shit drives a nail through my heart every time. I don’t know if he loves me or not, but he feels something when he’s with me that hurts him when I push away. Maybe it’s just the access that he has to sex, but his eyes tell a different story, and I fear I’ll never learn what they’re really saying.
22
DOMINIK
