I won’t make the same mistake twice.
My legs are unsteady as I walk toward the door, my heart and head torn on whether I’m making the right choice.
The last time I walked away when I was apprehensive was the last time I saw Mikhail.
That was ten long years ago.
Just before I exit, my name is called. I glance at Mikhail, stupidly assuming he wants to acknowledge my presence before I leave.
The past and present collide when our eyes lock and hold. Mikhail stares at me as if he is seeing a ghost. I learn that he is when my name is repeated. It didn’t come from Mikhail. He keeps his lips pressed too tightly for words to pass through. It came from the lawyer helming the meeting, from a man whoannounces my cowardice to the room when I slowly drift my watering eyes to him.
“Where are you going? Proceedings have only just begun. We’re not close to being done yet.”
“I… ah…” I return my eyes to Mikhail, and for a brief moment, understanding passes between us. It confirms my decision to leave was right and provides the farewell I was denied years ago. “I shouldn’t have come. I don’t belong here.”
Pain stabs my chest when Mikhail briefly dips his chin, agreeing with me, before he watches me exit without so much as a backward glance.
Chapter 2
Mikhail
“What did I miss?”
After plucking Zoya from her seat, Andrik, my brother, wraps his arm around her ballooning midsection and tugs her back until she lands on his lap with a moan.
No, you didn’t hear me wrong. You need to wash the filth from your eyes anytime Andrik and Zoya are in the same room, both in business and private settings.
It’s gross when you learn they are parents to a five-year-old. Alas, a man forced to hold back his desires for even a second must make up for the injustice with ten times more effort.
That’s why I’m so shocked about my muted reaction to Emerson’s resurrection in my life.
I hadn’t expected to see her today, but even if I had, I could have never comprehended this was how our reunion would turn out.
There should have been shouting, yelling, and a heap of cuss words that can only be forgiven in one way—with fire-sparking makeup sex.
That’s how Emerson and I operated. Our chemistry was insane, but we clashed heads as often as expected when two people with mile-long stubborn streaks couple.
Our fights were foreplay…until they weren’t.
With his hand possessively cradling Zoya’s stomach, Andrik strays his eyes to me. Zakhar, their son, had a cardiologist’s appointment at the same time as our grandfather’s will reading, so Andrik suggested Zoya take his spot.
His efforts to fix his wrongs extend toallregions of his life. He is no longer a billionaire playboy with a long list of enemies. He’s a husband and a father. The very man I thought I would become while pinning a corsage to the lapel of a recently purchased tuxedo and polishing dress shoes like they weren’t brand new.
We appear to have switched roles.
The playboy title isn’t the only thing Andrik has handed over. He is no longer a Dokovic, either. His wife and children will never be so fortunate as to escape the stigma associated with the name.
Only months ago, someone tarnished them with the same brush that painted my life picture thirty-two years ago. The strokes are a little less faded because the painting happened after my grandfather’s death, but Andrik will need a lifetime to correct the imperfections they will inevitably cause.
I don’t think he cares.
Obsession is given a new definition when Zoya enters Andrik’s realm.
It was once the same for me with Emerson.
Once.
“Mikhail?” Andrik murmurs, drawing my focus back to him.
