Page 54 of Emerald Vices

I pause, giving him a small window to butt in, say something, apologize, maybe even defend himself.

But he still says nothing.

“And I’m not blaming you entirely. I let it happen. I didn’t stop you. I… I wanted it as much as you did.” I swallow, ignoring exactly how much my body still wants it right now. “But no matter how good it feels in the moment, that feeling doesn’t last long.” A straggling sob escapes me. “And it left me feeling used and even more invisible than before.”

I open my mouth but then I realize, I don’t need to. I’ve said everything I wanted to. For now, at least.

“Lastochka…”

Despite the coldness in his eyes, despite the hardness in his face, his voice is soft and laced with tenderness. He takes a lock of my hair between his fingers, the same way he did the day he told me he was moving Aunt Annie into the manor. Hesitantly, I meet his eyes.

They’re blazing—it’s like someone has just set them on fire.

Maybe that someone was me.

“I never meant to make you feel that way.”

“I won’t let anyone treat me like that again, Andrey. Even if that someone is you.” He nods and goosebumps erupt along my skin like wildfire. “If I’m going to be with someone, it’s going to have to be a true partnership. If I’m going to have sex with someone, it’s going to be with someone who truly loves me.”

Shadows flit across his eyes like a veil. As my heart rate increases, I force myself not to lose sight of why I came here in the first place.

“There isn’t going to be any more casual sex between us, Andrey. I want a real relationship or nothing. If you come for me, it’s going to have to mean something.”

Exhaling deeply, he leans back against the armchair. “I hear you.”

We sit in the silence for a few minutes longer. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and I guess I’m gonna have to make my peace with that.

“Thank you for listening,” I blurt, getting up from my seat.

His hand twitches suddenly as though he wants to grab my arm and stop me from leaving. But then the same hand clenches into a fist.

“You’re welcome.”

I half-turn towards the door before I stop myself and face him again. “There’s something else I want to thank you for.”

He gets to his feet and steps towards me. I’m close enough that I catch the deep woodsy musk. It’s like my own personal version of catnip. Except this cat is going cold turkey.

Whether she likes it or not.

“You saw that I needed help and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. No one’s ever fought so hard for my mental health before.”

“I want you to be happy, Natalia. As much as I want you to be safe.”

Dammit—these pesky tears just won’t seem to leave me alone. “I’m not the only one who needs to talk to someone, Andrey.”

I suppose it’s my way of saying, I want you to be happy, too.

I’m not sure if it translates though, because he tenses up immediately. “There’s a lot I won’t be able to say to a therapist.”

“Evangeline knows our history,” I point out. “And she’s discreet. You can trust her.”

“That’s the problem, lastochka: I don’t trust anyone.”

“You have to try.” I inch closer to him without even realizing it. “You don’t have to talk to a therapist, necessarily. Find someone you trust and talk to them.”

Those silver eyes bore into mine. So intense, so direct… so full of promise. “Can I talk to you?”

The fact my jaw doesn’t unhinge and fall to the floor is a small miracle that I’m grateful for as I swallow and nod. “You want to talk—Me? The girl who shot you?”

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