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“Budanov has had a hand in so many things that happened in the last twenty years,” Alexander replies. “Far more than what your father ever told you.”
My blood runs cold at what he’s insinuating. “What are you talking about?”
“Apologies, my pakhan,” he replies quickly. “But for this ruse to work,youalso have your part to play. If you know the specific crimes he has committed, then you risk tipping him off.”
“Exactly,” chimes Gunsyn in his deep, gravelly voice before I can respond. “Leave it to us, Nikolai Gennadyevich. We’ll go make the rounds, get the word out. If she is Budanov’s daughter, then he’ll soon make his presence known to us. And once the threat is eliminated, she can leave, and you can marry a suitable wife. No one needs to know it was all fake.”
It’s obvious to me that Eden knows nothing. The way she was shaking, wrapped up in that bedsheet. She could barely speak and sat there shivering as if the room were made of ice. But I don’t like this plan. I don’t like being kept in the dark about things thatIshould know.
This burden should’ve been yours, Matvei,I think again bitterly. But would my dead brother have handled these four scheming men any better than I can?
“Fine,” I concede, my voice heavy with resignation. “But I stand by what I said earlier. This girl is not yours to toy with. Understand?”
“Understood, boss.” Gunsyn holds up his hands as if to ward me off and smirks.
“Good,” I reply. “This better work.”
“Of course, pakhan.” Alexander pours me one final glass of wine. “You can trust us.”
“Trust,” I mutter, almost to myself. “That’s a rare commodity these days.”
“She has nothing to worry about from us.” Ippolit’s snake-like smile returns.
I know that’s a lie.
After an impromptu toast and some meaningless reports, they file out of the penthouse, pleased with themselves. Alone, I sit down and stare hard at a blank wall.
Once the threat is eliminated, she can leave.
But a part of me doesn’t want to let her go. I know the moment she slips from my protection, these brigadiers will descend upon her like vultures upon a dying gazelle. And they will show her no mercy.
I close my eyes, and my mind is filled with an image of Eden wrapped up in that sheet. Her curves under the thin fabric, her hair resting on her bare shoulders. Her big, innocent eyes pleading for me to save her from the three brigadiers snapping at her heels like the heads of Cerberus.
And if you save her from them, little brother,Matvei’s voice whispers at the back of my head.Do you imagine that you will keep her?
No, I reply honestly as I stare into my glass at the tears of wine dancing atop the dark liquid. Once she is free, she will be like the subjects of the paintings that I admire on museum walls.
And just like those treasured masterpieces, I cannot have her.
I can only ever admire her from a distance.
Destined forever to be seen and never held.
17
NIKOLAI
Edenand I sit across from one another in the dining room, surrounded by glass and mirrored walls as dinner is served.
Every item of furniture in this room is translucent or made of glass. The sensation of being suspended in nothingness makes me feel alive. Others find it agoraphobic, but I like feeling untethered among the universe, as dramatic as it may sound. It gives me a sense of freedom away from my responsibilities. She doesn’t seem to notice the room except every once in a while. She looks up at the window.
I glance at Eden, dressed in one of the household staff’s dresses. Somehow, it suits her—almost like a goddess has fallen to Earth and taken on the guise of a mortal. She seems unconcerned with her surroundings as she cuts into her chicken to take a bite. I sip my wine as I watch her, but she refuses to look at me.
To be fair, she has other things to worry about.
Tension makes me want to control it, and by extension, her. She glances at me and then back at her plate. But there is nomistaking the look she gave me. It was a look of contempt, seconds away from hate.
I stare at her auburn hair, the perfect shade of Titian red, and her long lashes that conceal her hazel eyes. Tonight, she looks more like a Pre-Raphaelite beauty avoiding the artist’s gaze. It’s good that she hates me. IwantEden to hate me. Hate will keep me from growing attached to her. Hate will keep the distance I need between me and her.
