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“I knew it!” She grabs my hand. “I knew it. Something’s brewing between the two of you, right?”
“I wish it was as simple as that,” I admit. “I’ve just been doing some soul-searching the past few days. Being locked up doesn’t give me much else to do. Misha and I—we’re married.”
Cyrille frowns. “I’m not sure that counts as a revelation, sweetheart.”
I throw her a scowl. “We’re married, we’re having these babies together, and divorce is not really an option. Not as far as the Orlov family rulebook is concerned. So I guess I was thinking, considering all the above… Why shouldn’t we make an attempt at a real marriage? The kind that includes sex and friendship. Maybe more.”
“More. ‘More’ as in, a certain four-letter word that starts with L?” I nod shyly, and Cyrille beams at me. “I suppose the fact that you’re already in love with him helped you come to this conclusion, huh?”
I blush even as I’m shaking my head. “Misha told me in no uncertain terms that love is not something he is interested in. I thought I could convince him, but every time I feel like we’re moving in the right direction, he does or says something that pushes us back ten steps.”
“But…?” she prods, sensing the flipside of that coin before I even say it.
“But I suppose I want to beat him at his own game,” I admit. “I want to force him to see what we really have—what we could have—if he would just stop being so damn stubborn. I want him to admit that he has feelings for me. I want him to want me.”
Cyrille looks like a proud older sister. “I think that’s a great plan.”
Her confidence bolsters mine. “I know I might fail, but I have to try. Not just for my sake, but for my children’s. He has the potential to be an amazing father, Cyrille. I watched him play with Ilya yesterday in the pool and I saw…”
“You saw your future,” she says gently.
I nod. “I know I sound so naïve.”
“No,” she says, squeezing my hand. “You don’t. You sound hopeful.”
“That’s the problem: he knows that. And he’s really, really good at hitting me where it hurts.” I take a deep breath and fall back against my bed. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.”
Cyrille collapses onto the bed next to me. “I felt that way so many times after I agreed to marry Maksim. Felt it a few times even after I married him, actually.”
“When did that stop?”
“When we both got out of our own way,” she says. “And each other’s.”
“So you’re telling me I’m fighting an uphill battle?”
“Maybe. But hard won battles lead to the sweetest victories.”
12
MISHA
Malen’kaya Rossya.Little Russia.
My home away from home.
Konstantin sits beside me in the passenger seat with a sour scowl on his face. “Come on, cousin,” I goad him. “Think of this as an adventure.”
He tosses me a sidelong glare that does little to hide his obvious misgivings about today’s little road trip into this corner of the city. “You need to update your definition. This isn’t an adventure; it’s dangerous.”
“You like danger.”
“I do like danger. I also like math. And I know that two of us versus three of them is not great odds if they decide they don’t like your attitude.”
“One against three,” I clarify. “You’re not coming in with me.”
Konstantin whips around to face me, eyes wide. “The fuck I’m not! I’m not letting you go in there to face the Babai alone.”
“I thought you didn’t want to go?” I tease.
