I can leave—without my son. Either I live here with Mikhail as his wife or I leave my son behind.
That isn’t an option. There is no future for me without Dante. There’s no life without him. I can’t leave him here alone. I won’t.
“I’ll give you the night to think it over,” Mikhail says, as if he hasn’t already sealed my fate.
Then he walks away, leaving my bedroom door wide open behind him.
16
VIVIANA
I don’t know how long I’ve been crying when someone knocks on my door. All I know is my eyes burn, my cheeks are sticky with dried tears, and I absolutely do not want to see Mikhail. Not now. Not ever.
“Go away!” I try to yell, but it comes out in a croak. My throat is raw from crying.
The door opens. “Come again?”
The deep voice doesn’t belong to Mikhail, but that doesn’t matter. Everyone in this house is loyal to him. That’s how Bratvas and mafias and all of these messed-up criminal organizations work. The sun shines out of Mikhail’s ass and everyone is dying for a tan. I don’t want Mikhail or any extension of him in my room right now.
The room sways as I sit up, but I turn to the massive mountain of a man peeking through my doorway. He looks familiar, but my vision is blurred from the many hours of weeping. “I said, ‘Go away.’”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Then he walks into my room like his comprehension skills aren’t quite up to snuff, the door snicking closed behind him. “I thought I’d come see how badly my brother fucked things up.”
Brother? Jesus Christ, how many Novikov men are there?
I look the man over, taking in his tree trunk legs and barrel chest. Then I make it to his face, which is split in a wide grin. He wags a brow at me.
“Anatoly,” I say, the name and flirting tactics clicking into place. I watched him woo and win many a woman over the six months I was engaged to Trofim. It was like his mission at every event was to leave with a different sexual conquest. In the case of the christening, two sexual conquests.
“You remember me? I’m flattered.” He toes at the curtain rod and sheet bundle still laying on the floor where Mikhail left it. “Is this some weird sex thing?”
“Ew! No! It’s—” I run my hands over my face. “Go away, please. It’s the middle of the night and I’m exhausted. Too exhausted to hash out my current situation with one of the many people responsible for keeping me and my son trapped here.”
“I’m also one of the people responsible for keeping you alive.”
These Novikov men and their over-inflated egos. I want to take a needle and pop each of their swelled heads like a balloon.
“I’ve kept myself alive for twenty-five years without the Novikov family’s involvement just fine, thank you very much,” I spit. “Actually, I’ve kept myself alive despite your family’s involvement.”
“Up to now,” he agrees with a shrug. “But you know that would have changed the second someone found out who Dante is. Who his father is. He would have been a target.”
I stare down at the comforter, picking at the delicate embroidered flowers along the edge. “That’s why I wasn’t going to let anyone find out.”
Easier said than done, I know. But at least out there we were free.
“It would have come out sooner or later. He won’t be a five-year-old kid forever. He would have grown up. Had questions. Even someone as stubborn as you couldn’t have kept Dante from looking for answers.”
“You don’t know me or what I’m capable of.”
He hums a surprisingly high-pitched, unconvinced sound. “Both of my brothers have been engaged to you at one point. I know enough.”
“Mikhail and I are not engaged,” I growl. “I don’t care what he told you, but?—”
“You think Mikhail tells me things?” He snorts. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but Mikhail isn’t exactly a chatterbox. The only thing I’ve noticed is that every time he walks out of a room you’re in, he’s in a mood.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t know why he wants to marry me if he hates me so much.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Anatoly says almost too softly to hear. Before I can ask what he means, he pushes on. “Besides, marriage is about a lot more than love.”