For the longest time, he stares at our son and the love in his eyes pulls at my heart. He smooths Sasha’s hair from his forehead, then kisses it. Finally, he looks up at me.
“I get you want to punish me, but I don’t want to marry her and I’m not going to.”
“There’s a but. I sense a but.”
“Come back to our bed. This is ridiculous,” he murmurs.
“No.”
Silence spreads.
It’s not a word he’s heard often, I’m betting, and definitely not one directed at him by a woman. And here I am, with a heart that aches and bleeds for him, saying no.
I’m safe here, with Sasha. And he’s too aware of the brutality inflicted on me to do anything. His kid gloves are firmly on. I’ll worry about them when they come off and not before.
“Sasha needs me.”
“And there’s a but, right?” He sighs. “Fine. I have to playthis carefully. But it’s you I love, Erin. You I’m going to marry. Not her. Okay?”
I just look at him. He stands, then leans over Sasha and kisses me, too. The spot on my cheek burns bright.
“Will you trust me?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He sighs. “Trust always means a choice. But I love you and I promise I’m going to find a way out of this wedding. Good night,Lyubimaya.”
The next dayI’m still angry, still twisted inside. I’ve just finished feeding Sasha, who’s anxious to get to his toys and then go and play in the backyard.
I’m taking him up to get changed when the doorbell rings. Demyan appears, looking harried, and I swear to fucking God there’s guilt glittering in his eyes as he looks at me and he mutters something under his breath.
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
“Erin, I haven’t had a second this morning, but?—”
Magda opens the door and leads in the blonde.
Her gaze barely touches me and her nose wrinkles at the sight of Sasha, who’s staring at the glamorous creature standing there.
He tugs on my shirt. “Mama? Is that a clown?”
Horror swamps me as Magda makes a sound like laughter. “Upstairs with you, Master Sasha,” she says, sweeping him up and promising him lots of Russian treats.
The woman, Stefina, moves past me and kisses Demyan on the cheek. He stands there, stiff, his face turning a ruddy shade and he pulls free. “I’ll see you in the living room.”
Olga appears to lead her in, followed by one of thesecurity men, the type who carries, I presume, a concealed weapon.
But Stefina reappears, her gaze going to me. “My wedding planner will be here shortly. We have a perfect vision and a few places that will be incredible on social media shots. I have swatches for the wedding outfits. I intend to look like a vision. More than I do already.” She spins in her short skirt and runs a hand down his tie. “A good-looking man deserves a smoke show wife, so?—”
“Go wait, Stefina,” he says.
The moment she’s gone, I glare at him.
“Erin. I have to do this.”
“So you say. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got your son to take care of.” And I push past him, forcing myself to take the stairs slowly.
Magda doesn’t say much as we clean and dress Sasha. He’s not a fan of being cleaned up. It’s not fun like a bath is, but he’s such a good little boy that there’s only minimal fuss.