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That hurts worse.
The baker emerges from the back. “How is the happy couple?” The woman is beaming at us, too thrilled with her good fortune at having been chosen as our baker to even notice the schism widening before her eyes. “Are there any flavors you particularly love? I can bring out more samples or whip up different combinations if there is something you want to try that isn’t here.”
Cora keeps her eyes on me. “Order whatever you want,dear.”
What the fuck did she expect? She told me the night we met that she had no interest in this world. Even if I had told Yasha what I was really thinking, what I was really feeling, what would have changed? Sure, I could have said that Cora isdifferent. That she brings color to the monotone drudgery that is my day-to-day life. That my pulse quickens when she enters a room and when she leaves it. That I fuckingdreamof her.
But even if I told him all that, nothing would have changed.
We still wouldn’t have a shot in hell of being anything more than what we are now: two people pretending they have a future that doesn’t exist.
I hold her gaze for one second, two, five, ten. Then I spin back to the baker. “Leave. Come back when I call for you.”
The woman’s smile fades. “Oh. I—Do you need—?”
“I need you to leave,” I grit out. “Now.”
Even as the baker stumbles back towards the kitchen door, Cora doesn’t move. Doesn’t react. The only sign she’s even conscious of what is happening around her is the way she flinches as I spin back to her.
“If you’re mad, say so.”
She lifts her chin. “I’m not mad.”
“Like fuck you aren’t. For someone who hates masks, you sure love to hide behind one.”
She snaps her attention to me, eyes flaring. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“Since when?”
“Since always!” She throws her arms wide. “The only reason I’m here is becauseyoudemanded it. Because otherwise, my friends and I would be killed and you wouldn’t do anything to stop it. I never had a choice.”
I’m looking at Cora, but I don’t see her; instead, I see Katerina Sokolov standing in front of me, hands shaking around a champagne flute as we toasted.
I see my mother, head bowed as she over and over again resigned herself to her fate.
This is not like that.
I’mnot like that.
“You think you don’t have a choice?” I spit.
She lifts her chin. “IknowI don’t.”
I slide a plate of lemon raspberry cake between us and swipe my finger through it. Pink buttercream and berries drip down my finger as I hold it to her lips. “Try it.”
“No.”
I lean closer. “I thought you said you didn’t have a choice.”
“You know damn well that’s not what I was talking about, Ivan.”
“So you have a choice in some things but not others?” I press. “It’s a wonder you have freedom at all if I’m such a monster. That must be why you were trembling in the shower the other night. You wereafraidof me.”
Her jaw clenches. Color rises high in her cheeks. She’s remembering exactly what happened.
The way she begged me to fuck her. How much she wanted me to touch her.
Suddenly, she sits forward on her stool and wraps a hand around my wrist. Her green eyes are locked on mine as she leans forward and parts her lips.
