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“You’re right. The wait will make it so much better, Cordelia.” He drops his hand and backs away. He stops in the doorway, his eyes trailing over me one last time. “I’ll see you soon.”
The moment he is gone and the door closes, I drop to the floor.
All the panic I bottled up and shoved down comes racing to the surface. I cry into my sleeve and bite back loud, heaving sobs.
I knew there was a good reason I was saving my tears.
After what could be minutes or an hour, I shift to my knees and crawl back to my bookshelf.
The journals aren’t the only things I kept hidden. I pull out several books from the first shelf and run my hands along the underside of the wood. After a few swipes, I feel it. Just where I left it.
I peel off the brittle tape and a weight lands in my palm. I close my hand around the polished wood handle.
I stole this letter opener from Alexander’s office years ago. It was the only weapon-like thing in the house I knew he’d never miss.
I take a practice swipe through the air, imagining the thin blade slipping into Alexander’s carotid or jabbing between Mikhail’s legs.
It’s not much, but I know now that no one is coming to save me. No one is going to get me out of this. All of the tears I shed and letters I wrote didn’t do a damn thing.
I’m no princess and there is no happy ending waiting for me. It’s just me versus the world I left behind.
So I might as well be armed.
10
IVAN
The shades are pulled down over the glass door and a “Closed” sign hangs in the window. Still, I knock.
There’s a security camera hanging just above the door. I know I’m being watched, but I don’t look at it. I don’t need to. Because the door will open for me in three, two, one…
“Mr. Pushkin!” Kieran’s voice is muffled by the glass as he fumbles frantically with the shades and the lock. “I didn’t realize you were coming in today. You didn’t call. I would have had the door open and unlocked if you’d—”
He opens the door. “Hello,” he repeats, beaming at me with the smile he reserves for his highest-paying customers.
I tilt my head in greeting. “Kieran.”
“I would have had the shop ready for you if you’d called ahead. Where is your lady? Is she with you or—” He looks past me to the sidewalk. Then his eyebrows jump. “Or is this a surprise for her?”
His words land like a fucking knife to the gut. I remind myself that Kieran doesn’t know. Of course he has no idea what just happened. He can’t fathom the guilt and rage tearing through me right now.
Which is why I clench my fist at my side instead of wrapping it around his throat.
“I’m alone and I need a favor.”
Kieran must pick up on the shaky control I have on my temper because he steps aside immediately and ushers me inside.
The shop is dark, but the little bit of sunlight coming through the blinds glints off the gold edges of the display cases. I can almost close my eyes and see Cora standing in this shop mere weeks ago.
She thinks I chose her gaudy engagement ring that day as punishment, but it was because that larger-than-life jewel was the only thing in this entire shop that could even begin to complement her the way she deserved. A beautiful woman needs a beautiful ring. Which means Cora deserves a fucking planet made of diamond.
Kieran flicks on a light. The memory dims and fades.
“I hope nothing serious is wrong,” he says with a frown. “If there's trouble with your ring, you know I will do everything to keep my best customers happy. Whatever you need—a rush job or a replacement jewel—I’m happy to—”
“I need you to hold onto this for me.”
I place the ring I just snatched off of Francia’s finger into Kieran’s palm.
