Page 35 of Emerald Vices

“Who else?” she asks. “You’ve got to hand it to the man: he sure has taste.”

I don’t bother telling her that I’m the one who picked out half the stuff in this nursery. That may be true, but he’s the one who has elevated it in ways I couldn’t have even imagined. There’s art on the walls and books on the shelves. Someone must have picked all of that out, and I have a feeling Andrey is too much of a control freak to hand that responsibility off to anyone else.

“Hey, there’s a note.” Mila holds up a folded piece of paper just like the one that led me here.

I take it gingerly from Mila’s extended hand and flip it open.

Dear Natalia,

I wanted to make your dream a reality. I’ve taken some liberties in filling in the blanks, but you can change anything you don’t like. Consider it my gift to you. The only thing I ask in return is for you to reconsider therapy.

Yours, Andrey

I read the note again and again.

“Nat? Everything okay?”

“‘Consider it my gift to you,’” I grit. “‘The only thing I ask in return is for you to reconsider therapy.’”

Mila is chewing on the inside of her cheek when I make eye contact again. “Annie warned him that this wasn’t a good idea.”

I throw the note on the floor. “Of course she did. And of course he didn’t listen. Because Andrey Kuznetsov doesn’t listen to anyone but himself.”

I give the room another once-over. I no longer see a sweet and heartfelt gesture—I see a bribe. Another way for him to control me with his money.

Mila winces. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna donate everything to charity,” I decide, content with my decision the moment the words leave my lips.

Not even Mila’s horrified face can deter me. “Donate it to—Nat! This stuff is expensive as hell. And it’s all so beautiful. I know you’re angry, but this room is perfect. You can’t just get rid of everything.”

I meet her eyes, steady and determined. “Watch me.”

15

ANDREY

She’s sitting on the window seat, regarding me with eyes made lighter by the sun pouring through the glass. She breathes evenly. Says nothing. Waits for my reaction.

Until, finally, she concedes that she’ll have to speak first if she wants to talk about what the fuck just happened in here.

“Why so quiet? Not a fan of what I’ve done with the place?”

The careful planning—not to mention the tens of thousands of dollars I spent—seems to have faded into nothing.

Quite literally.

I’m standing in an empty fucking room.

“Where is everything?”

“Gone.” She shrugs like she’s all easy, breezy sunshine, but I see the fire behind her eyes. The fury. “I donated it all to charity.”

“You were the one who dreamed of this place. You designed it. Why would you give it all away?”

“Because I’m not going to be bribed, Andrey.” She leans forward, and I notice the cherry pendant that usually hangs around her neck is gone.

For some reason, that pisses me off more than anything else.

---