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I need a room number.
Instead of texting back, Bee calls. “You came? My God, Dmitri, we need to talk about boundaries.”
“I agree. The boundaries line up perfectly with the penthouse walls. You’re the one who broke them.”
“You’re gonna have to wrap your head around the fact that Wren and I are not yours to command. You can’t just boss us around like your little toy soldiers.”
“Wanna bet?” I snarl.
She sighs dramatically. “Yeah, sure, throw your weight around; see how well that works. All that’ll do is push her further away. She’ll get suspicious of even the good stuff. Leave it to you to make gifts feel like punishments..”
I stop short. “The apartment was a peace offering.”
“Did she seem happy when you gave her the keys?”
I’m about to answer when my mouth snaps shut. Truth is, Wren had been uncharacteristically quiet. She didn’t look happy by any stretch of the imagination, but I’d assumed she was just processing.
“Wait—”
“For God’s sake, Dmitri—Wren is not Elena! They’re not the same person. You can’t assume throwing Wren an expensive present is going to solve any of your problems, much less all of them.”
“I didn’t have problems with Elena.”
“Because she worshiped you!” Bee hisses. “Unhealthily, in fact. If you’d told her to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, she’d have done it. Wren is not gonna be as easy to manipulate.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“No? She wanted some independence, so you gave her the apartment below yours. After you told her that she was a walking, talking incubator. You gave her a tomb for a womb. Doesn’t that just roll off the tongue, hm?”
“Fuck me,” I mutter.
This is all turning to shit in my hands. I suppose it’s what I get for trying to do a nice thing. It’s all just getting thrown back in my face.
But that does pose a question: was I trying to do a nice thing for Wren? Or was the downstairs apartment really a gift from me to me? If I kept her locked up out of sight, I’d be in control of my life again. No insolence, no fiery temptations.
Who pays the bigger price for my inability to keep a lid on my own desires: Wren… or me?
“Just a heads up,” Bee chimes in, “she’s at the ground floor restaurant, picking up some food.”
I shake my head to dispel the thoughts crowding in. “I’m taking her home.”
“Did you not hear a word I said?”
“We need to sort this shit out before the baby comes. It’s not like I have time to waste.”
She sighs. “Fine. Do as you please, not that you need my permission for that. But just so you know, I’m staying. Can’t let this perfectly good room go to waste. Oh, and Dmitri?”
“What?”
“For once in your goddamn life, don’t be an asshole.”
I hang up as I storm into the lobby. Almost simultaneously, Wren emerges from the sliding glass doors on the left with a tote bag of food slung off her arm. Her gaze is so fixed on the patterned marble floor that she doesn’t even notice me slipping into the elevator behind her. It isn’t until I’ve pressed the emergency button and the elevator lurches to a stop that she looks up.
“Dmitri?!” she nearly screams.
I shake my head. “What am I going to do with you?”
The shock on her face twists into disgust. “Oh, gee, I don’t know. You could do what you do best: throw more money at the problem and expect it to go away. Maybe a second apartment so I can store all the gifts you’re planning on bribing me with?”
