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“We’re not done yet,” he says in a regretful voice.
“There’s more?” The mere idea is almost enough to break me back into a sobbing fit. “I don’t think I can take any more,” I say, wiping a hand under my eyes.
“We need to finish this. I have to leave tomorrow, and you have a choice to make.”
I give a slight shake of my head, confused as to where this is going.
“I’m not going to force you to be with Grigory. So even though I’m the one to suggest this, it’s ultimately your choice.” Markus presses his index finger to my chest. “Youhave to decide if you want to be his.” Markus lifts his brows in warning when I part my lips to protest. “But you get a few days, and I want you to consider carefully. If he is to agree to this, it will be on his terms. No negotiations or compromises. You’ll be his through and through. No backing out. With the way you took off out of the blue, it’s been difficult to convince Grigory to take you back. So this is how it is.”
“Why?” A sharp pang spears my chest at the thought of him not wanting me back.
“Do you remember when I told you about Magdalena?”
“Yeah, Grigory’s ex.”
“Magdalena was a ticking time bomb. One moment, she’d be sweet and submissive, adoring Grigory and catering to his every need. Then, bam!” Markus claps his hands so hard I jump. “She’d flip in the blink of an eye, making these crazy demands and trying to manipulate Grigory.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Markus leans back in the chair, his mouth twisting with displeasure.
“You know Grigory,” he continues, “he doesn’t fold. When she didn’t get her way, she’d start these crazy fights. Then, when he didn’t relent, she’d take off in the middle of it all, and Grigory wouldn’t hear from her for days. I saw it once at a premiere party. I’d been to dinner with them, and I remember thinking she was perfect for Grigory—calm and submissive. But backstage after the show, it was like seeing an entirely different person.”
“She kept trying to seduce Grigory, running her hands up his thigh even though he was in the middle of a conversion. He’d take her hand and discreetly tell her he wasn’t in the mood. But she didn’t listen. She just started whispering in his ear instead. It was a vulgar display, really. Grigory inevitably grew frustrated.When he finally leveled her with a hard glare and told her to stop,she bolted up from the couch and left.”
“What happened?” I ask with a mix of curiosity andhorror.
“Grigory naturally thought she had gone back to their hotel, so he gave her an hour to cool down before going back there himself. But she wasn’t there. I remember him calling me to ask if I’d seen her, and I’ve never heard such worry in his voice before.”
Markus’s jaw stiffens, his entire posture tense, and I find myself reflecting his disposition, my heart aching for Grigory, my hands clenching with the need to murder this woman.
Markus continues with a deep sigh. “We spent all night looking for her—bars, hotels, the opera. Grigory was sick with worry when we got back to the hotel at dawn. He was just about to call the police when she finally showed up, apologizing profusely and begging for forgiveness. I think he was too relieved to be angry.”
Markus levels me with a hard glare I can’t quite comprehend and adds, “That was just the first time she ran off.”
I quickly avert my gaze, not understanding why I suddenly deserve such a reproachful stare.
“So when you bolted in the middle of an argument, it hit too close to home.”
My heart is suddenly pounding as I realize what I did. My eyes dart over the room as I try to process the guilt wrenching through my chest.
“Do you understand why taking off like that was a bad idea?” Markus curls his hand around my jaw, forcing me to face him even as I’m sniffling.
I try to nod in his grip, and he releases me with a clipped, “Good.”
I feel his eyes on me as I bend my head, trying to gain control over my emotions as I feel them hovering dangerously close to the surface, threatening to spill in a new fit of tears. Markus is not just angry with me for ignoring him for days; he’s angry with me for hurting someone he cares about. And I hate myself for it too. So I start apologizing. “I’m sorry,” I choke as I force back a sob. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
With a heavy breath, Markus seems to let go of his anger. Leaning forward, he captures both of my hands in his. “No, you couldn’t have. But you shouldn’t have done it, nonetheless.”
“Does he hate me now?” I gulp down another sob, but I can’t stop the tears from pebbling down my cheeks, dripping into my lap.
“I don’t think Grigory could ever hate you, sweetie. But he’s going to want something from you if he’s to take you back—something to prove that you are in it for good.”
“Anything,” I say, lifting my teary gaze.
Markus’s lips tip up in a slow smile, but there’s also something wistful in his gaze that makes my heart clench. “This is what I mean. Your eagerness to please him. It’s so unbridled and instinctive. So pure.” He lifts his hand to swipe his knuckles across each of my wet cheeks. “But I still want you to consider it for a few days. Grigory won’t go easy on you. He needs to see the depth of your submission.”
“How do I show him?”
“You submit.”
