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The door swings open without warning and reveals the last thing I expected: Dmitri standing there in a midnight black suit, with a white envelope in his hands.
He doesn’t comment on the mess I’ve made of my room. Instead, he just strides calmly to the foot of the bed. “Bee, give us the room, please. Wren and I need to talk.”
My back straightens out. “I have nothing to say to you.”
Bee gets off the bed. “Maybe this isn’t the right time, Dmitri?—”
“Bee.”
His tone is terrifying, but also terrifyingly effective. Even Bee yields to it when he sounds like that.
She throws a defeated glance over her shoulder at me. “I’ll be in the living room if anyone needs me.”
She slips out of the room. I redirect my attention to Dmitri. Maybe, under normal circumstances, I’d heel, but not today. Not tonight. Not like this.
If he expects me to be a docile, obedient little house slave, he’s got another thing coming.
“I have something for you.” He holds the envelope out to me.
I take it curiously, but with my finger poised to tear it open, I pause. “What is it?”
“Open and see.”
His face is neutral. No sign of the stormy rage from earlier. Frowning, I rip the flap off and pull out the thick stack of papers inside. It’s quickly obvious what I’m looking at. What’s not obvious is why.
“This is a contract?”
“You can read it yourself,” he confirms, “but in summary, it states that the apartment below this one is officially yours.” I tense up. What the hell does that mean? “All expenses for said apartment will be covered by me. Your monthly salary will continue to be remitted into your account for your personal expenses. And once the baby is born, that amount will be increased proportionally.”
There’s no emotion in his voice. There’s no expression on his face. He might as well be reading the weather forecast from a teleprompter.
“You will be safe, you will be comfortable, and you will have your own space.”
My heart is thudding painfully as I extricate myself from the covers and get off the bed. At the end of the day, he can “remit” anything he wants to anyplace he wants, but there’s only one way to sum up what this means.
“You want me gone.”
“I want to give you the space you so obviously crave.” His eyes slide to the mess I’ve made of the room. “Clearly, you’re not happy here.”
It’s honestly pretty ingenious how he’s turning this around on me. Like I’m the one who needs space. Like I’m the one who doesn’t want him digging around in my past.
She said sarcastically.
“I don’t need a whole new apartment when I already have one of my own.”
“This is a compromise, Wren.” His eyes narrow dangerously. “It’s important that my child stays close to me. This way, we both get what we want.”
“Which is…?”
“Space. Lots of it.”
I feel like crying. No, I feel like screaming. Does he think he’s being slick with this B.S.? Does he really think that elevating me to the status of glorified mistress, held at arm’s length, will make me think that this is a good idea?
He pulls out a little white box from his pocket and deposits it on the bed. “These are the keys and the access code to your new apartment. It’s unfurnished at the moment, but that can be easily remedied if you so choose. Feel free to go look at it whenever you want.” He stands there for a few moments longer, but when I don’t say anything, he turns towards the door. “Bee and I have somewhere to be this evening, but if you need anything, Aleksandr and I are both contactable.”
He leaves me staring at the white box on my bed. A key. A key to a whole new life, to privacy and safety and room to breathe.
How can something so pretty be so insulting at the same time?
