Chapter 36: Natalia

The gentle breeze caresses my skin, and I can smell the oncoming rain.

Angry storm clouds cover the heavens, but the sky refuses to crack open and allow the rain to fall.

I’m not going to stay out too long today. Not until dark.

I went out by myself for a walk out by the lake so from where I am I can still glimpse the terrace of the house from where I’m sitting.

I just needed fresh air.

Things were more tense in the house after last night, but this morning, Irena said good morning to me. So did the other maid. Aleksander was just as abrasive but not as rude.

I figured Mikhail must have spoken to them.

I was almost sure he was in the room with me last night, lying next to me on the bed. I thought I’d fallen asleep on the floor, though. I was so tired I couldn’t remember.

The scent of him hung in the air when I awoke. I must have imagined his presence, because today was another day of nothingness.

Today marks one whole week since we got married. I don’t even know why I’m bothering to take note of the time. It’s not like it makes a difference to anyone. It won’t make any difference to me.

It’s just because I’m the one with time on her hands, watching the days go by. Each day that passes leaves me wondering what the next will be like.

I’ve been caged in this house, and although I’ve been allowed to wander around and go shopping with Sophia or one of the guards, I still feel like I’m locked up.

Or like I’m on a deserted island with no real hope of escape. All there is, is what’s around me.

Not to mention the fact that I’m in New York. A place that’s new to me. People are different, and I have a new language in my ear I can’t even make heads or tails of. Sometimes, people can pick up certain words and try to piece together the meaning of a conversation. I can’t do that when it comes to Russian.

All I know is Malyshka.

No matter what tone Mikhail uses to say it to me, the endearment has always sounded like a word of affection expressed by my lover.

God, I am pathetic.

Is it because he’s the first man I’ve been with, why I can’t shake him from my mind? Is it that? Or maybe the word husband has more meaning to me than it should.

I don’t think it’s either of those things. I think it’s him.

The problem is him and what he broke down inside me to make me feel for him.

I can tell myself I resisted, but the thing I was trying to stop myself from feeling was already there. All he did was unleash it. Now that he’s abandoned me, I’m trying to rein it back in.

The shuffle of footsteps makes me turn my head.

I nearly jump out of my skin when I see Ivan walking toward me. I was so engrossed in my thoughts I didn’t hear him.

This is the second time this has happened to me. Once again, he’s crept up on me, catching me off-guard.

I stand and face him, wondering why he’s here and if Mikhail might be home, too.

All these weeks I’ve been at this house, he hasn’t come by once. What brings him here today?

“Relax, princess, I just came to say hello to my new sister-in-law.” He smiles.

What do I say?

I don’t have the fire I possessed last night, and that warning voice in my head tells me not to mess with this man.

Or underestimate him.

I remember how he looked at me at the wedding, and I can’t forget what he said to me back at his father’s house. Both occasions told me I needed to be very careful of him.

“Hello,” I say.

“How is married life treating you?”

I’m sure he can tell married life is not treating me very well.

I’m also sure there’s more to his question than what he’s really asking.

Something more along the lines of when my expiry date might come up and my husband decides to sell me or give me away.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Enjoying the fresh air?”

“Yes.”

He steps closer and I wish he wouldn’t.

The air in my lungs freezes, and my spine tingles with uneasiness. I wish he would leave me alone. It’s clear, though, he has an agenda, and I am it.

“You know what? I remembered why you look familiar to me.”

God, not this again.

Not this again. What is he going to say to me this time?

I keep my gaze trained on him. “Why?”

“There was a woman who worked for Raul. Very, very beautiful. You reminded me of her.” His smile widens, and I feel myself shrinking away. “You have the same look of fear in your eyes.”

Something hits me when he says that—a memory of something I shouldn’t have heard.

It was my mother telling my father she’d been attacked by one of Raul’s business associates.

Raped.

She said he’d raped her. My father wanted to do something, but she begged him not to. She knew what would happen if he did anything. It meant death.

My parents kept it from me.

My mother kept it from me, and I know it happened at least two more times while my father was away working. He didn’t know about those times. I heard her crying in the bathroom and saw the bruises on her legs.

My mother would have been so hurt if she knew I knew, so I pretended I was none the wiser.

When Raul tried it with her, she’d had enough. That’s why it was so bad and probably why it was the last time for anybody.

A deep cold seeps into me, working its way into my soul. Why is my gut instinct telling me this devil in front of me did something to my mother?

“That’s an odd thing to say,” I tell him.

“Maybe it’s how everyone who was around Raul looked, right? Scared and afraid.”

I don’t know what this devil suspects or how he’d pieced the truth together, but it’s clear he knows something is up with me.

According to what José said, unless Ivan has proof, he wouldn’t be able to figure out I’m not Adriana.

But he knows something is not right with me.

I just can’t establish what he might know, or suspect. All he seems to have so far is the strong resemblance to my mother, which will give me away because that’s a striking element that could pick me apart.

“That’s enough,” Mikhail’s rough voice cuts in, just like it did that night and I’m grateful to hear him.

Ivan and I turn to see him marching over to us. His hair looks windswept, and he’s slightly out of breath, like he’s been running.

“Why are you talking to my wife?” he demands, glaring at Ivan.

“Chill out, brother, I dropped off some stuff Father wanted you to have.”

“Yes, Sophia told me. My phone was off when Father called, so I didn’t get the message. That doesn’t answer my question of why you’re speaking to my wife.”

Ivan chuckles. “Unbelievable. Since when is it a crime to speak to someone?” He squares his shoulders when Mikhail walks closer, doing the same.

“What do you want, brother?”

I can tell now there’s bad blood between them and it doesn’t matter that they’re brothers. I’ve seen Mikhail when he’s angry. Back in Mexico, he looked like he was ready to bring forth the end of the world.

But this is different. There’s a different look in his eyes that’s just as murderous but fueled by wrath and madness.

“I was simply getting reacquainted,” Ivan explains nonchalantly. “The wedding was so rushed. You never even had a reception or anything for me to congratulate you. You could have at least made it look more normal and not like the business transaction it was. If only for the other guests who didn’t know the truth of why you married this poor girl.”

I already felt bad enough. The reminder of what I am makes me feel worse.

Just then, drizzles of rain trickle down from the sky. The heavens are ready to crack open and pour. A metaphor for the way I feel inside.

“You can leave now,” Mikhail tells him.

Ivan smirks and then walks away.

Mikhail’s fists ball at his sides. We both gaze on at Ivan until he’s on the terrace and back inside the house.

Mikhail turns back to me, and as our eyes lock, I note how drained he looks. He also smells like he’s been drinking. Not as badly as that night I went into the hall with the paintings, but enough for me to smell the whiskey on him.

Raul drank whiskey. So did Felipe. They always smelled like it.

“What did he say to you?” Mikhail demands, moving closer to me.

I take him in. I’m so focused on his eyes that I almost miss the dash of color on the collar of his shirt.

Because he’s always in black, the smear of red lipstick pops. It’s the only color I’ve seen on him. Another woman’s lipstick.

The hole in my heart grows wider, deeper, faster, and I shake my head at him.

I imagine him with someone else, touching her the way he would touch me, possessing her body the way he would mine and it makes me sick.

Bastard.

The message he got last night could have been from her. He was out all night, or away from me a good amount of time. Fuck, what am I saying?

I have my times all mixed up.

It’s almost dark again. He could have been with her all day.

He reaches out to touch my face, but I back away, out of his grasp.

“Where were you?” I ask, hating the quiver in my voice.

“Working.”

“Liar,” I choke out, feeling like the pot calling the kettle black. I have no right to call anyone a liar. None whatsoever. But I don’t care right now. I feel so foolish. While I’ve been here worrying myself over him, he’s out fucking around.

“Why do you think I’m fucking lying?”

“There’s lipstick on your collar, Mikhail.” I point to it, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Were you with one of your women?”

Why am I asking a question I already know the answer to? If you don’t want to get hurt, don’t do things that will hurt you.

I’m digging my own grave. When his face hardens and he doesn’t answer me, I do the only thing I can understand his silence to mean and accept the answer must be yes.

It shouldn’t hurt me. I shouldn’t care. I should remember this arrangement we have is a means to an end for us both, yet the tears running down my cheeks say otherwise.

They speak of my heart, and I can’t fight that.

They also speak of my rage, and suddenly, my hand flies up and connects hard with his cheek.

“Bastardo,” I cry. “I hate you. Te odio diablo,” I shout, telling him I hate him in Spanish and calling him the devil.

The sky cracks open as I rush away from him.

But I don’t get very far.

I thought I might this time because I didn’t expect him to come after me.

That’s my mistake. Not only did I strike him, but I defied him. That means punishment. The sadistic bastard will use the opportunity to punish me.

He secures a hand around my waist and yanks me against him.

“Let go of me,” I yelp, kicking against him.

“Fucking stop it.”

“Leave me alone. I hate you.”

The falling rain quickly turns the ground slippery, and my kicks and thrashing send us both to the ground.

He reaches for me and moves himself on top of me, pinning my hands above my head to stop me from moving.

“I didn’t cheat on you,” he growls.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m a business transaction, remember?” My tears pour and fuse with the raindrops on my face. “So, it’s not real. We’re not real. I’m not really your wife, so you can fuck anyone you want.”

“I didn’t cheat on you, Adriana,” he grates out in a firmer voice. Hearing that name makes me snap. I keep forgetting I’m supposed to be her. He hasn’t called me that name since we took our vows, and now that he’s said it, I want to scream at him and tell him I’m not Adriana Alvarez.

“I was at a bar, drinking. I switched my phone off because I needed some time to myself. That’s why no one could reach me,” he continues. “A waitress I know propositioned me. That’s how the lipstick got on my collar. I said no and left. I was on my way back to work when I heard Ivan was on his way here. Now I’m here. That’s the truth.”

I glare at him and think about what he’s saying to me.

He never tells me anything and explains himself to no one. Everything he’s told me so far has been by chance and slowly drip-fed to me.

So, I know when he’s talking like this to pay attention.

The rain falls on us, soaking us both, but I can’t take my eyes off him as he stares at me like he’s looking into my soul.

“I can’t cheat on you, princess,” he says, and it’s like the guard over his eyes falls away. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

I know the truth when I see it. I know the truth when I feel it.

I can see it in his eyes and hear it laced in the tone of his voice.

“Then what happened to you? That day you left before the wedding, everything changed.”

“I crossed the line I didn’t know I could cross. Now that I have, I don’t want to go back.”

“Then don’t,” I whisper, and something twinkles in his eyes.

A shimmer flickers between us. An entity of understanding within a crackle of energy.

He lowers his lips to mine, and I move to him, too, kissing him the way we used to kiss. Not like that kiss we shared when we said ‘I do.’

This is the kiss to rival all, revealing more truths, and I allow myself to love him.

He picks me up, scooping me into his arms, and rises with me, but his lips don’t leave mine.

He walks back into the house with me just like that. I feel the maids’ eyes on us. Neither of us cares who sees us, though.

We reach the bedroom, where our clothes come off layer by layer and he makes love to me.

We actually make love. I feel the difference in his touch.

Passion grips us, claiming us, claiming me, and I know I crossed that line, too, and I don’t want to go back.

There’s only one problem—one of us is still a liar.

Me.

I love him, but I’m not the woman he thinks I am.

When he finds out who I am, I’m not sure love can save me, and neither will his obsession.