Page 74 of Poisoned Vows

Nikolai is still and quiet for a long moment. The first thing I see is his hands, relaxing out of the fists they were clenched into. His face is still taut, but when he speaks, what he says isn’t what I expected to hear.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I—understand now. It all makes sense—the way you’ve been. And I’ve made it worse.”

I don’t know what to say. The tears spill out of my eyes, down over my cheeks. He doesn’t move closer or try to touch me. He just keeps looking at me, his face hard, but the words he’s saying are softer than anything I’ve ever heard.

“I punished you—and I regret that, now. I know that doesn’t make it better, and it doesn’t fix it. But I would never—if I had known—”

“You shouldn’t have needed to know.” The words come out before I can stop them, and I flinch, expecting him to retaliate. But to my surprise, he doesn’t.

“You’re right,” he says. “I shouldn’t have. I should never have touched you like that. I should have understood. And I shouldn’t have forced you to marry me. I should—” He takes a breath. “I should have accepted that I couldn’t have you and found a way to get you away from all of this instead.”

“What do you mean?” I look at him, confused. “I don’t—I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“I wanted you.” His eyes, when he looks at me, hold a depth of emotion I can’t fully grasp. “I wanted you so badly that I couldn’t see any way I’d be able to stop myself from taking you.” A shudder goes through him, as if he wants to come towards me, wants to touch me, and is forcing himself not to. “I’d never forced a woman in my life. So I thought if I married you, it would be different. You’d be mine, then. We’d be expected to go to bed. I could have you without hurting you.”

I stare at him, trying to wrap my head around that convoluted way of thinking. “You were always hurting me,” I whisper. “Even when you weren’t—you were still—”

“I see that now.” His voice is low and quiet. “All I can do is ask you to forgive me, Lilliana. For tonight—and all the nights before that. I’m so sorry. If I’d known—but you’re right. I shouldn’t have had to know to do things differently.”

A small part of me, a very small part, wants to say I forgive him. Idobelieve him. I think he sees now what he couldn’t see before, all because I’d told him about my past. But I meant what I said—he shouldn’t have needed to know. And even if he realizes that now—it doesn’t change things.

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him, struggling to keep my voice from breaking. “I don’t care what happens to my father, and I’m sure you understand why now. If he’s really behind all of this, I don’t care what you do to him. But I also want nothing to do with you.”

I wrap my arms around myself tightly, trying to keep myself from starting to shake all over again. “I can’t escape you or this marriage,” I tell him quietly. “But I’m not going to forgive you. And if you really understand, then you’ll leave me alone.”

Nikolai says nothing for a long moment. I wonder what he’s going to do, or say—if he’s going to touch me anyway, insist I forgive him, tell me that I’m his wife and that I belong to him. But instead, he just gives me a sad look—the saddest one I’ve ever seen on his face.

“The bedroom is yours, Lilliana,” he says finally. “I’ll sleep out here. And I’ll be gone in the morning to take care of business. Just stay here, and stay safe. That’s the only thing I’ll ask.”

And then, before I can say another word, he turns and strides towards the front door. He opens it, and I catch a glimpse of the security outside before he closes it, and I hear the sound of the lock.

He’s gone. And for the first time, I don’t entirely know how I feel about it.

I sink down to the floor, burying my face in my hands, and I let myself fall apart.

Nikolai

Iwant her forgiveness—and it’s too late.

It feels ironic that I, who have spent my whole life making it my business to know what the people around me are thinking, doing, and wanting, that I missed all of those things when it came to my wife. I was raised to believe that those things didn’t matter in a marriage—that all that mattered was obedience and docility—but I know that’s no excuse. It’s no excuse that I didn’t understand what Lilliana has been through.

There’s no real excuse for any of it.

If her father really is responsible for all of that—if everything she said is true, then maybe there is a way to earn her forgiveness.The thought enters my mind, as I’m driven to the office downtown where I can call the hackers who might be able to find information on where he’s gone, and track Marika. There’s no love lost for her father; I feel confident of that. If I can get vengeance for her, then maybe that will change things.

The scene keeps playing out in my head again and again—my hand in her hair, dragging her out of sleep and up off of the couch, the rough, violent way I handled her, so horribly sure of myself and my theory. Ihurther again. I have, as she said, been hurting her all along—the exact opposite of what I always meant to do.

I want nothing to do with you. I’m not going to forgive you.

How could I blame her? There’s nothing I can say that could make up for what I’ve done. The only thing I can think of is todosomething—and the solution that I have is one that will benefit us both.

Her father gone, saves my family, and gives her revenge. I can’t think of a better way to accomplish two things at once.

I have a team that works on problems of tracking people I need to be found and other digital matters—accounts that need to be manipulated, digital tracing, online footprints. They’re all top-school graduates with massive student loan debts and dubious moral compasses, and they haven’t failed me yet—a mixture of skill and a knowledge of what happens if they do. Before the night is over, they’ll have the information for me that I need—a location, or a list of possible locations where I might be able to find Marika.

In the meantime, I pace the office, restless and on edge. I don’t like leaving Lilliana in the penthouse alone, but I know she doesn’t want my company. There’s enough security there that I feel comfortable she’ll be safe from anyone who might come after her. And I realize something else as I pace the floor, something that’s more than a little unsettling.

I—miss her.

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