Kolya mumbles his understanding of my request before the SUV door opens, and he exits without a glance in my direction.
Chapter 27
Emerson
“Mikhail?”
I jackknife into a half-seated position when the creak of floorboards draws my focus to the entryway of the owner’s suite at Zelenolsk Manor. My stomach gurgles when the crispness of the cuff on the white shirt of my visitor registers as familiar.
All the staff at Zelenolsk wear the same uniform. Crisp white button-up shirts and either black trousers or pencil-pleated skirts.
“That is the final bag,” Loretta announces to a man in his mid-fifties, her professional tone hiding her deceit.
I arrived with only a bag, so I will leave with one as well. Loretta is merely saving face for a woman undeserving of her grace.
As I watch them walk out my belongings, my fight with Mikhail echoes in my mind. I feel horrible for how our exchange ended, but anger is there too, simmering just beneath the surface.
I shouldn’t have said what I said, but my head wasn’t in the right frame at the time to evaluate every word. When snowedunder, my mouth runs away on me, but it’s far worse when lust clouds my judgment.
Mikhail could have stayed and spoken about it maturely, but again, he chose the cheat’s route.
He walked, which frees me to do the same with my head held high.
I just need my heart to get the memo. Its devastation has my shoulders slumped like they know I lost, and no amount of reassurance from my brain can convince it otherwise.
As I follow my belongings, neatly arranged by the staff I thought Mikhail had gotten rid of, my heart slips to my feet.
Turns out, the staff was just given the morning off. Mikhail’s prediction of how our fight would pan out was more accurate than even I could have imagined.
The realization he can still read me so easily adds another layer to my already bruised ego. If I were honest, I would admit that I don’t want to go. The past forty-eight hours have been a rollercoaster of emotions, but they were still filled with that messy gooeyness I couldn’t get enough of when Mikhail was mine.
Since I’ve not been honest with myself for a long time, I continue shadowing Loretta’s steps, each stride an effort.
I could have left abruptly like Mikhail, but when you’ve been kept waiting for so long, there is a desperate need for closure.
I couldn’t stop playing the words Mikhail spoke before I kissed him through my head, or the pain in his tone. It seemed as if our time apart was as torturous and confusing for him as it was for me.
There’s also the matter of the massive transfer that my phone pinged with only minutes after I sulked to my room, feeling empty and confused. The “consummation of vows” payment was wired too soon after Mikhail’s departure to announce it was done by anyone but him.
As much as that money could help my family, I can’t accept it. It doesn’t feel right because nothing I’ve done since gorging on a peanut butter sandwich has been done for a payout.
I kissed Mikhail because I couldn’t take the tension a second longer, and I begged him to fuck me because there’s no such thing as heartache when his hands and lips are on mine. There is no one in the world but us.
After announcing to Loretta that I won’t be a minute, I head to Mikhail’s office. My steps are nowhere near as flighty as they were yesterday afternoon when I breezed into his office as if I were weightless. Our afternoon had been magical. I thought nothing could bring it down. Then I saw the contract his grandfather had drafted in full.
I don’t know why I was angry. I didn’t earn a penny of the Dokovics’ fortune, so I had no claim to it. I was simply hurt believing that my interactions with Mikhail were solely about money and that he had prioritized it over genuine feelings.
My refusal to accept payment for the consummation of our vows stems from the possibility of someone accusing me of doing the same.
When I push open Mikhail’s office door, my breath hitches in my throat. A dark figure sits behind his bulky desk. Regretfully, when the figure turns to face me, I see the blue eyes I’m seeking, but they belong to the wrong man.
Andrik, Mikhail’s older brother, lifts his eyes to mine. When they meet, for a moment, the world stands still.
Although he doesn’t share the same blood as Mikhail, the impact of my loss smacks into me. I struggle not to fold in two, feeling more lost than ever, and the hollow emptiness overwhelming me almost takes me under when Andrik says, “Mikhail was inside the church, waiting for you. He only left hours after I told him you weren’t coming.”
Chapter 28
Emerson
