Artyom helped Nikolai up onto the chair.
I stepped forward with the intent of snatching Nikolai away from him, but my son greedily dug into his dinner, looking so happy that I couldn't bare risk his tears.
"Thank you," I breathed. "For not saying anything."
Secrets circled between us. Artyom must've let Konstantin in on some of them; why else would he be freezing out the man he consider his brother so cruelly?
Artyom turned his dark eyes to me. "Do not thank me, Elena. I didn't do you a service." He glanced at Nikolai. "Or him one."
My son continued to eat, making a mess as he stuffed his face.
I had suspicions as to why Artyom had kept my secrets. Still, I wanted his confirmation, wanted to be proven right.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
Artyom's face didn't reveal anything. Not that it ever did.
"Why?" I prompted.
"Come to dinner tomorrow," he said instead of answering. Perhaps even Artyom didn't know the answer to my question.
"No."
"I won't bother asking you why not. I'll save us both from having to endure a lie." Artyom continued to watch my son, features softening momentarily. "It's uncanny...how similar they are."
My entire body tensed. I knew already, I didn't need the reminder. "Thank you for bringing us dinner, Artyom. You can leave now."
His brows rose in faint humor. "Of course, Elena. Enjoy."
As he went to leave, he paused by the door and rested his hand on the doorframe.
"The answer to your question..." Our eyes met. "I would do anything to protect my family, Elena. Anything."
I felt my brows burrow. "You were protecting Konstantin?"
For a moment, I thought Artyom might laugh. Instead he just shook his head, face bright with amusement. "No. Not Konstantin." He left without another word, just like his wife had done.
Dinner was delicious, and watching my son so delighted over the mashed potatoes made the past seventy-two hours well worth it. When he was done, I dressed him in a pair of Anton's pajamas and tucked him into bed. Within seconds he was asleep, his little chest rising and falling as his head filled with dreams.
I thought sleep would evade me, but I fell quickly into the snare of nightmares. I dreamed about Titus standing beside the bed, smile cruel and hand stroking Nikolai's blond head. When I tried to grab my son, she laughed and whispered, "Them or your son?"
I woke up covered in sweat, but in time to see the sun rise over the horizon, signaling the first day of my return to Konstantin Tarkhanov.
9
Elena Falcone
I lay in bed and stared up as the ceiling. The world outside was peaceful and soft, from the birds chirping in their nests to the buttery sunlight warming up the earth.
But inside of me, there was no mellowness. Instead, a dark and angry storm stirred low in my gut.
The new day had brought with it clear thoughts, and had allowed me to process the past few days. Which meant I had time to organize all my thoughts and feelings, sorting them out like my brain was a pantry. Trauma on the top shelf, Konstantin in the containers, family on the spice rack and knowledge of poisons in the glass jars.
How dare Konstantin threaten to take my son away from me if I didn't follow his little plan? I taunted my own mind as I relived our first meeting after three years, going over every word and moment with such focus I was convinced I could re-enact the entire exchange.
How dare he drag me back to this place I left? How dare he, how dare he, how dare he–
He thinks he is entitled to you because you had his child, a voice said in my mind. For all his efforts, he is no different than the men who raised you, the ones who believe they own their wife’s wombs and all the fruit it bears.
“Not me, Konstantin,” I hissed to myself. “You will not own me, you will not title me as your baby momma, as your mistress.”
Some small rational part of me warned me that I was stirring myself up. I was making myself angrier than I had a right to be, but once the downward spiral of thoughts began, it was hard to see the light. It was hard to remain calm.
My growing wrath encouraged me to do what I did next.
I lifted my head to check on Nikolai. He remained asleep, as cute as a cherub. I tucked him in, kissed his forehead and then went in search of a fight.
The entire manor was silent but I could spot soldiers and dogs roaming outside, moving in the shrinking shadows as they swapped shifts.
Konstantin wasn’t in his room but instead his personal study. It was different to the office downstairs, which served as both a place of work and informal meeting room. His personal study was warmer, with photos of his family on the walls and books piling up like mountains of dust.
I didn’t bother knocking, just walked in.
Konstantin was at the desk, pen in hand and documents before him. He didn’t look up as I slammed the door behind me, just continued his work.
It was uncanny how much this felt like the night I had left, but on the opposite spectrum. Like the colors were inverted, like it was upside down.
“We need to talk.”
His pen didn’t lift off the page. “Oh?”
“Yes, we do.” I strode to the edge of the desk, blood already heating with the thrill of a fight.
Konstantin yelling at me would be so much better than his apathy, so much better than this empty and polite tension between us.
I slammed my hands on the mahogany. “You just found out you’re a father and you couldn’t give less of a shit. What is the matter with you?” I demanded. “Plus, I’m not stupid. You’re acting strange; everyone is acting strange. Like the entire Bratva is walking on eggshells. What did you do, you stubborn man?”
Konstantin laid down his pen, closed his document and slowly leaned back in his chair. Each movement was methodical and neat, but I could spot the anger inside him rising up to the surface.
“You have a lot of nerve,” he said quietly, softly, like a lover, “coming into my office and accusing me of wrongdoings.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, hiding my delight that he was taking my bait. Yes, fight with me, I cooed internally. Yell, scream. Let's battle, Konstantin. “You have a lot of nerve. I left you, Konstantin. I left and you have brought me back into the fold, the family, and shoved me into the room next to yours.”
His eyes flickered. "You called us for help.”
“I called Artyom for help,” I responded. “I don’t want anything from you.”
Liar, liar, liar. The word taunted me.
I needed a pen, marker, something with ink in it. Now.
“You’ve made that abundantly clear, Elena,” Konstantin purred. Anger clung to each word. “Don’t worry yourself about that.”
Because I don’t love you, Konstantin.
My parting words hung in the air between us like a wasp’s nest. Saying it had been pure agony and I had nearly confessed everything to Konstantin. He had offered me a kingdom, a marriage, a family, and I had turned it all away. To keep him safe, to keep them all safe.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Why are you starting this fight, Elena? I asked myself. You left to keep him safe. You have to protect them from Tatiana. It worked, didn’t it? She hasn’t touched a hair on their heads.