Page 65 of Nine Months to Love
“Just don’t stay gone too long, that’s all I’m saying. This ship needs its captain.”
He hangs up before I can respond. I stare at the phone for a moment, then set it aside and focus on breakfast. Croissantsfrom the freezer that I heat in the oven. Fresh fruit from the yacht’s well-stocked fridge. Orange juice. More coffee.
I arrange everything on a tray, then head back below deck.
Olivia’s awake when I return, sitting up in bed with the sheet tucked under her arms. Her hair is a beautiful mess, her lips still swollen from last night. She lights up when she sees the tray.
“Oh my God, you brought me breakfast in bed?”
“You need to eat.” I set the tray across her lap. “You’re eating for two now.”
She tears into a croissant immediately, moaning at the taste. “This is amazing. I’m so spoiled right now.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her eat. She catches me staring and her cheeks turn pink. “What?”
“Nothing. You’re beautiful.”
“I’m a mess.”
“Absolutely. But a beautiful mess.”
She sets down the croissant as her smile fades. “Stefan, about last night...”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“We need to talk about it.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do.” She pushes hair behind her ear. “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”
Something cold slithers through my chest. “Are you saying you regret sleeping with me?”
“I don’t regret sleeping with you. That’s the problem. I probably should, but I don’t.” She picks at the croissant and starts methodically shredding it into tiny pieces. “This just complicates everything even worse than it already was. We have so many lies between us, so many secrets. Adding sex to that mix is like... like pouring gasoline on a fire.”
“Good. Fires clear things out. Fire can be useful, Olivia. If we let it be.”
“Stefan—”
“You want truth? Fine.” I take the tray, set it aside. “Let me tell you exactly what happened when I took over the Bratva.”
Her eyes widen. “You don’t have to?—”
“You said secrets are the problem. So no more secrets.”
I lean back against the headboard, gathering my thoughts. Where to even begin?
“After my father died, I lived with my grandmother for a year. Elena tried to make it normal, but nothing was normal. My uncle Vasily had moved into my father’s house, taken over his businesses. He was fucking my mother in the bed where my father used to sleep.”
Olivia’s hand finds mine. I didn’t realize I was clenching my fist.
“The day I turned eighteen, I left for Russia. I couldn’t watch it anymore. How was I supposed to pretend everything was fine while they erased my father from existence?”
“Where did you go?”
“To stay with one of my father’s oldvors. Taras’s family, actually. His father had worked with mine back in the motherland. He took me in, trained me. Not just the violence—though there was plenty of that. But the business side. How to run crews, move product, manage money. How to be apakhan.”
“How old were you when you came back?”
