Chapter 20 Nikolai
I didn’t know why I apologized.
I never apologized. Not to anyone. Not for anything.
The last time I had felt sorry was twenty years ago when my mother died. And even then, I had learned quickly that sorry meant nothing. Sorry did not bring back the dead. It did not undo pain.
So why had I whispered those words to Anya in the darkness?
The words had slipped out before I could stop them. And now they hung in my mind like a weight I could not shake.
I lay there in the dark, holding Anya's small body against mine, and tried to understand what was happening to me.
This girl. This tiny, fragile girl who should mean nothing. Who was the daughter of my enemy. Who I should hate.
Was now changing me. Breaking down walls I had spent twenty years building. And I did not know how to stop it.
Dawn came slowly. Gray light filtered through the window. I carefully removed my arm from Anya's waist and slipped out of bed.
She did not wake. She just made a small sound and curled into the warm spot I left behind.
I dressed quickly and quietly. Then I left her room and made my way to my study.
Mikhail was already there. Of course he was. He sat in my chair, drinking my whiskey, looking like he had not slept at all.
"Good morning," I said coldly.
"Is it?" Mikhail looked up at me. "You look like hell."
"Thank you."
"We need to talk. About last night. About what I saw."
I poured myself whiskey even though it was barely dawn. "What did you see?"
"I caught Anya trying to pick your lock."
"I know." I said flatly.
Mikhail's eyes widened. "You know? You know she was trying to break into your room and you still slept in her bed?"
"Yes."
"Are you insane?" Mikhail stood up. His voice rose. "She is planning something, Nikolai. She has your secret. She knows you need her to sleep. And now she is trying to get into your private space. She is dangerous."
"I know that too."
"Then why…" Mikhail stopped and stared at me. "You are keeping her close to find out what she is planning."
"Exactly." I drank the whiskey. "Keep your enemies close. Is that not what they say?"
"Your enemies. Not your..." Mikhail trailed off.
"Not my what?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
"Say it, Mikhail."
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Fine. Not your weakness. Not the woman you are falling for."
"I only need her to sleep. That is all."
"Keep telling yourself that." Mikhail shook his head. "But I know the truth. And soon everyone else will know too. You care about her. You are falling for Marco Koslov's daughter."
"I am not falling for anyone!" I slammed my glass down. "I do not love her. I am only using her. She helps me sleep. That is the beginning and end of it."
"Love," Mikhail said softly. "I never said love."
My blood went cold.
"But now that you mention it," Mikhail continued, "maybe that is what this is. Maybe you do love her. And that is why you cannot see how dangerous she is. That is why you cannot let her go."
"I do not love her." My voice was deadly quiet.
"Then prove it. Send her away. Sleep alone. Find another girl to warm your bed if that is all you need. Stop sleeping in her room every night. Stop looking at her like she is the only thing keeping you alive."
"I cannot." I said flatly.
"Cannot? Or will not?" Mikhail's brows raised.
"Both." I poured more whiskey. "I cannot sleep without her. And I will not give her up. Not yet. Not until I figure out what she is planning."
Mikhail stared at me. Then he laughed. It was not a happy sound.
"You know what they say, do you not? It is impossible to change the heart of a man who is in love. Once you fall, you fall completely. And there is no going back."
"I am not in love!" I thundered.
"Then why does talking about her make you so angry?"
I picked up my glass and threw it at him.
Mikhail ducked. The glass shattered against the wall behind him, whiskey dripped down the wall.
"I will take that as my answer," Mikhail said. Then he quickly ran out of the study before I could throw something else
.
I stood alone in my study, breathing hard, my hands were shaking.
Love. That word. That stupid, meaningless word.
I did not love Anya. I could not love Anya. Love was a weakness. Love was death. Love was everything my father had beaten out of me.
But then why had I apologized? Why could I not sleep without her? Why did the thought of losing her make my chest hurt?
I need therapy. I need someone to tell me what was happening to my mind. I need to know if Mikhail was right.
Could this be love? Or was it just need? Just the desperate clinging of a broken man to the one thing that kept the darkness away?
I did not have answers.
The day dragged on. Meetings, phone calls and business that required my attention. But my mind kept wandering back to Anya. To her small body in my arms. To her soft breathing. To how she had not pushed me away when I apologized.
That evening, a messenger arrived at the estate. He carried an envelope sealed with red wax. The Volkov family seal.
I opened it and read the contents. Then read them again because I could not believe what I was seeing.
It was an invitation. From Alexei Volkov.
You are cordially invited to a celebration at the Volkov Estate. A gathering of the five families. An evening of elegance and unity.
Elegance and unity. Those words made me sick. There was no unity between Alexei and me. Only hate.
But I could not refuse the invitation. Refusing would mean weakness.
I kept reading.
The dress code is formal. Each head of family is requested to bring their mistress for the evening.
I crumpled the invitation in my fist.
That clause. That single line. Each head of the family should bring their mistress.
Alexei was not inviting Anya. He was demanding her presence. He wanted to see her, and study her to find my weakness and exploit it.
And I had no choice but to bring her.
I called for Mikhail and showed him the invitation.
"It is a trap," Mikhail said immediately.
"I know." I said, nodding.
"Then do not go. Send your regrets. Say you are busy."
"That shows weakness. Alexei will tell everyone I was too afraid to attend. That I am hiding my mistress. That I care too much about her."
"You do care too much about her."
I ignored that. "We are going. Both of us. Anya will come as my mistress. And I will show Alexei that she means nothing. Just a body I use."
"What if he tries something?" Mikhail asked, gazing intently at me.
"Then I will kill him." I said it simply. "And start a war if I have to."
Mikhail was quiet. Then he said, "You just proved my point. A man who does not care would not start a war over a mistress."
"Get out." I commanded, eyeing me.
"Nikolai…"
"Get out before I throw something else at you. Tell Vera to prepare the mistress."
Mikhail left, shaking his head.
I sat alone in my study and stared at the invitation. At Alexei's elegant handwriting. At the words that made my blood boil.
Each head of family should bring their mistress.
Alexei knew exactly what he was doing. He was forcing me to parade Anya in front of everyone again. To display her. To make her a target.
And I had to do it.