Page 21 of Wicked Vow

I know it’s a foolish thought, that it’s supposed to be a death sentence for me to so much as go near Natalia now. But I’ve gone up against men like Viktor Andreyev before and come out on top.

If I can find a way to make up for what I did, to talk to her and show her that I understand, there might still be a chance.

I can show her that I know I made a mistake. That I want her, not for revenge or to hurt her, but for the future we could have together.

A future that I see now, clearly.

A chance to make up for the failures of my past.

Natalia

When I wake, almost a full twenty-four hours after I’d fallen into bed, it’s to a small pile of clothes on a chair across the room, a tray of food covered and waiting for me, and a note.

You slept so hard you didn’t even stir when I brought the clothes up. If the food is too cold when you wake up, come down to the kitchen, and Hannah will make you something fresh. When you’re ready, we’ll go out and get you feeling like yourself again.

I blink, my eyes still feeling a little sticky with sleep as I set down the note. I don’t entirely feel refreshed–my body feels achy, as if I slept in the same position without moving. I have an embarrassing memory of when I woke from the dream about Mikhail, and what I did.

I hope I didn’t make noises that anyone else heard.

I reach for the tray, uncovering it and looking at the assortment of food there. It’s all breakfast foods–scrambled eggs with some kind of fancy cheese, toast with a small glass pot of red jam, another glass jar of yogurt and berries, and thinly sliced ham and a few sausage links next to it as if the person who assembled the tray wasn’t entirely sure what I’d like, and so gave me a little of everything. It’s remarkably thoughtful, and my stomach grumbles at the sight of a complete breakfast with no one to put any conditions on it.

There’s even orange juice.

I wonder if it’s as good as what Mikhail cooked for me.

The thought is sudden and should be unwelcome. It is, in a way, because it brings back that ache that I’d felt last night in the bath, the feeling that I miss him. I feel tired all over again, faced with the complicated and confusing emotion, and I close my eyes, trying to force it back. To not think of him.

I breathe in deeply, catching another whiff of the eggs and salty cheese–feta, maybe?--and then feel my stomach instantly revolt.

I barely have time to get the tray off of my lap and safely onto the bed so that I can bolt for the bathroom before everything remaining in my stomach comes up all at once.

Morning sickness fucking sucks.

I press my forehead against the cool ceramic lid of the toilet once there’s nothing left for me to throw up, trying to breathe. I can’tnotthink about Mikhail, because there’s now a memory of him with me at all times. It makes me wonder how much of him I’ll see in the baby once they’re here, andthat,in turn, makes me question all over again what the right choice is.

Can I live with that? Will it tear me apart to see him, all of the time, in a child that we both made but that he’ll have nothing to do with? Will it hurt too much, constantly wondering why I want him there when I should want nothing more than as much space between us as possible?

Slowly, I stand up, making my way over to the sink to brush my teeth and rinse out my mouth. There are all the basics I could possibly need here, and despite the empty ache in my stomach, I turn on the shower instead, hoping that might relax me enough to be able to eat something when I’m finished.

I stay in there for a while, washing my hair twice and scrubbing every inch of myself until I’m standing wreathed in coconut-scented steam and my fingertips are starting to get a little wrinkly. When the water finally begins to cool, I get out, wrapping one fluffy, soft towel around me and another smaller one around my hair as I walk back out into the bedroom.

At some point, while I was in the shower, the first tray was whisked away, and another is sitting on the bedside, covered again. “Quite the staff the Andreyevs have,” I murmur under my breath as I go to the pile of clothes, where I see another note.

I hope something here can fit you until we can get you new things.

–Caterina

I reread it, feeling a flicker of surprise. I’d thought that Viktor might see that it could be to his benefit to take my side over Mikhail’s, but I hadn’t expected so much generosity. I’d known that Sasha had grown close to him and Caterina, from what she’d told me, but I hadn’t realized how much they must have cared for her. Viktor hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he felt as if he owed me, and it seems clear that Caterina feels very much the same.

There’s a cream-colored linen wrap dress in the pile that fits, and I slip it on, finding the sandals I’d worn before tucked beneath the bed where I’d left them. There’s not much I can do with my hair, which is still the unfortunate orangey blonde left from Mikhail stripping the dark dye out of my hair, so I wrap it into a damp bun at the top of my head, which is the best I can do.

My stomach cramps again, and I wince, glancing at the tray. I’m not sure how much of it I’ll be able to manage, but I sit down on the edge of the bed, picking at the food until I’m fairly certain that what I’ve eaten will stay down.

It’s nearly noon, and I make my way downstairs to hear the sound of low conversation coming from the room across the hall. I step inside gingerly, to see Caterina and Ruby sitting across from each other on the sofa, Caterina holding a baby with soft dark hair like hers. They both look up abruptly as I walk in, and I see a look of relief on Ruby’s face.

“You’re up!” Ruby leans on the back of the sofa, watching me as I walk in. She looks more rested than I’ve seen her in a long time, and that makes me feel better than anything else could have right now. “You still look tired. Are you feeling alright?”

“Thanks, I guess?” I laugh, sinking down into an armchair to her right. “I slept like I was dead, it felt like.” I wince the moment the words come out, thinking better of them, but neither Ruby nor Caterina seems to pick up on it.

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