Page 65 of Preferential Treatment

“Not yet?” she repeated with a laugh that sounded more pained than amused.

“I’ve hurt you.” He started towards her, but she stopped him with a raised hand.

“I hurt myself by seeing something that wasn’t there. That’s not your fault.”

It was his fault—he was fundamentally broken, and that brokenness had harmed her. And now she was leaving him. The dull pressure he felt in his chest whenever he was away from her became an unbearable ache. He pressed one fist against it, as if he could crush it into nothing.

“Knyazhna—”

“No. I’m not… that. Not anymore.”

“What if I tried?”

She frowned at him. “Tried what? Tried to feel something for me?”

He nodded.

“You can’t force what’s not there. And I don’t want you to pretend. I’d rather have nothing at all than something fake.”

“Can’t it be enough that I serve you and keep you in luxury?”

“Only until you get bored of me,” she said coldly.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he would never get bored of her. But the words got caught in his throat, and he swallowed them back down.

“Goodbye Mikhail.” She turned away from him. At the door, she paused with one hand on the handle. “I turned in my two weeks notice yesterday. You’ll forget about me once I’m gone.”

The news shattered him. Before she could open the door, he was there, pinning it shut with one hand. “No.”

“Yes. Now, let me out.” She tugged at the handle.

“What can I do?” he pleaded, feeling as if everything he’d ever earned, everything he’d built, was crumbling beneath him like sand.

She gave him an agonized look, but didn’t answer.

“Remember when we talked about Shanghai? I’ll take you. Right now.”

“That’s not what I need. Trips and cars and high-end jewelry aren’t what I need. Why can’t you understand the difference?”

He couldn’t help reaching for her. She was stiff as a statue when he touched her, his hand circling her arm, trying to urge her closer. “What if I married you?” he proposed wildly.

“Marriage?” she repeated in a stunned voice.

“Yes. I’ll marry you. No prenup. Just don’t leave.”

She was quiet. Her gaze tracked over his face, brows drawn together. Indecision warred in her eyes, and for a moment, Mikhail dared to hope.

“Does marriage come with love?”

His hope died. He wouldn’t lie to her. “I don’t know what love is, Katya.”

“If you’re not capable of love, then I’m not capable of marriage.”

“Katya, please. You can’t throw away everything I’m offering. It’s foolish.”

Anger sparked in her eyes. “Maybe I am a fool. I’ll probably even regret this, after enough time. Will that make you happy?”

“No!” he burst out wildly. “I will be miserable! Why make us both miserable? Just say yes. Just come back.”

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