They all laugh as dessert comes out, but I’m not comforted by any of this.

Today, our necks were bared to our enemy.

I have a job to do. A mission to complete. But I can’t allow Vera to be hurt on the sidelines.

My time has come.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Vera

The next few days pass without incident. Though we’re only at the very beginning stages of what we’ve discovered, it’s monumental.

I have to admit that’s all in the periphery of my focus, though. I came here to focus on my studies, but the prevailing concerns about me and Markov have taken precedence.

“You look troubled.”

It’s Friday night, the day before the benefit, and Markov is kneeling beside me, doing what’s become routine for us: braiding my hair. He does it every night before bed. I’m loathe to admit that I don’t actually need him to braid my hair. It doesn’t tangle much when I sleep and is easy to fix in the morning. What I need, though, is the feel of his strong, masculine fingers on my scalp. The slight tug when he gives it an inevitable tweak.

I won’t lie. . . I’m nervous as hell about tomorrow.

“You’re as skittish as a little kitten, Vera,” Markov says, bending to kiss my shoulder before tweaking my braid. My God, I love all of it. The intimacy of this moment, the warm feel of his mouth on my bare skin. The solid wall of his presence behind me. The way my name sounds on his lips. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, you know,” I say with a sigh. “The benefit and all. I’m just nervous about my father. Even if you and I didn’t have this. . . going on between us. . . I’d still be nervous.”

Markov turns me around to face him and frames my face with his hands.

This. This is what I love.

My eyes water as I peer into his intense gaze and see a well of love he hasn’t even yet voiced to me.

“Vera Ivanova,” he says earnestly. “You said it yourself that this will work out. We have to take this one step at a time. For now, you need rest.” When he bends and kisses me, I can almost believe it will be as simple as that—trust, love, and a kiss that makes it all better.

With a sigh, I crawl into bed. “That’s right, baby girl,” he whispers in my ear as he spoons me from behind. His warm body wraps around mine. “Put your mind to rest and get some sleep.”

But I can’t. Soon, Markov is breathing more deeply behind me while my mind spins and spins. I can’t get my fears out of my mind.

I make a decision. I push out of bed and walk over to where my phone is plugged in. I look over and Markov is still asleep.

I call Mom.

“Vera! How are you, darling?”

“I’m good, Mom. A little nervous about that stupid benefit, but it will be fine. There’s. . .” my heart beats so quickly that I’m a little shaky, “something I have to ask you.”

“Mmm? What is it?”

I draw in a breath and let it out slowly, gathering my courage. “Do you love Dad anymore?”

There’s silence on the other end of the line before she answers. “What makes you ask, Vera?”

“I—I just need to know. Please,” I whisper.

“Sweetheart, your father and I never loved each other to begin with. Our marriage was one of convenience, not love. And while others in that arrangement have learned to love one another despite the difficulties they faced. . . that was never us. I could not love a man who was self-serving and unfaithful. And while I’ll give credit where credit is due—your father’s taken good financial care of us and allowed me to raise you the way I saw fit—no, Vera. I do not love your father and never have.”

I nod. That will make what I have to do so much easier.

“Thank you, Mom. I love you.”