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“So, you automatically win because you’re richer, stronger, and more powerful—and a man. Don’t forget that crucial fact.” Her words were bitter.
“That’s not the reason,” I countered, slowing my car at a stop sign on a quiet, dark country road. I turned to her, picking her unresisting hand up off her lap and bringing it to my mouth. I kissed the back softly, and gooseflesh rippled across her skin immediately.“Until eight weeks ago, you wanted me as much as I want you. Don’t forget that, Mallory. What’s eight weeks after nine years of longing?” It had been nine years since Mallory had walked into my life and nine years since my heart stopped living in my chest and moved permanently to hers.
“I didn’t know you then. I’m starting to think I never did,” she murmured, tugging her hand away.
I wanted to press her, to pull out all the dark and terrible things I’d done to find and keep her and let the light shine on them. But this wasn’t the place.
“Well, now you have all the time in the world to do that.”
12
MOLLY
Iwoke to the scent of black cherries, dark chocolate, and Kirill’s unique smell that had haunted my dreams for two months. I must have passed out in the car, which wasn’t surprising, given how exhausted I was.
I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. It took a few moments to realize the view was different from usual. I turned my head and saw the black and white prints Kirill kept in his bedroom.
When I’d been serving my sentence as his willing captive, he’d kept me separate from him at night, only visiting me to fuck, but never to sleep. Apart from that last night together. The one where he finally let me see my name scrolled in tattooed cursive across his heart. The night I’d thought his barriers were finally coming down, only to tumble back to reality a few days later, when Nikolai had let all of Kirill’s secrets out to play.
A soft knock on the door made me sit up so fast that I felt dizzy.
“Devushka?Are you awake?”
A lump formed in my throat at the sound of the familiar voice.
“Yes, Olga. You can come in.”
She pushed open the door and peered in at me. The sight of the housekeeper who had been my constant companion only eight weeks ago shouldn’t have been so comforting. She held a steaming mug of coffee in her hand, prepared the way I liked it. It was at that moment that I knew the taciturn Russian had missed me. As a rule, Olga disapproved of any morning beverage that wasn’t hot black Russian tea with a lemon slice.
She set the cup of coffee, French vanilla with a more than generous helping of creamer in it, on the bedside table and promptly sat beside me. I stared at her, shocked by the out-of-character behavior.
Her faded blue eyes tracked across my features, and her wrinkled hand patted mine.“Welcome home, Mallory.”
Tears brimmed, and one dashed down my cheek. I swear, I’d never known it was possible to cry so much before I’d been pregnant.
“Shhh, don’t cry. Everything will be well, you’ll see.” Olga’s grip tightened on my hand as if she could press her steely Soviet Union-born strength into my fragile bones. “Drink your coffee, and rest. You look terrible,” she said critically, tugging a reluctant laugh from my aching chest. Olga was still Olga.
“Thanks.” I took the cup from her when she offered it, and the smell made my stomach revolt. I passed it back, furiously stuffing down the urge to vomit. I shook my head.“I’m not in the mood this morning,” I muttered, trying desperately not to let Olga know how sick I felt. She was smart as a whip, and there was no way I’d be able to keep being pregnant from her for long. She saw everything, and she knew my habits. I never missed my coffee, and that alone would tip her off. “I switched to herbal teas while I was away to manage my anxiety.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched me carefully and then set down the cup.“Yes, you had much to be anxious about. Are you okay? Did Nikolai Viktorovich hurt you?”
Thinking of Nikolai pissed me off. That motherfucker had dragged me from a life where I’d finally been happy and blown it apart. It wasn’t his fault Kirill had kept so much from me, but Nikolai had killed my father. He’d led me to think Kirill was responsible while lying to me about him being safe and relatively unharmed. Picking at that particular thread only sent me spiraling into self-doubt. There was a chance he’d lied about other things, but one stark truth remained.
I was pregnant.
Kirill had known it was a risk, yet he had continued to come inside me like it was his favorite hobby. He had planned it, and I couldn’t forgive him for that.
“Mallory?” Olga pressed.
I realized I’d zoned out on her.“Sorry. Did Nikolai hurt me? Not any more than his brother,” I muttered.
I didn’t want to talk about Kirill with her. She was his biggest fan and surrogate mother figure. It would hardly be an unbiased conversation.
Olga frowned. “Devushka,you don’t know how he suffered while you were gone—”
I pulled my hand from hers.“Please, don’t start that already. I can’t hear it right now. I’m allowed to feel what I feel,” I told her sternly, with far more censure than I’d allowed myself before.
She blinked and pulled back. I’d hurt her feelings. I felt terrible about it, but it barely registered on the list of things I felt awful about lately.
