Page 16
Yesterday was a ceremony, not a celebration.
Cecily spat every vow like a punishment.
I vowed to protect her, though the look in her eyes told me she’d rather spit on my shoes.
Now it’s morning, and my chest burns with regret.
I suspect she regrets it, too. We’ve both made choices neither of us wanted to have to make, and I’m left bracing for whatever blow she deals next.
I exit my bedroom and search the corridor for any sign of her. Only a guard stands by the main stairwell. I try not to bark at him for updates, but I need to know where my wife is. My wife. The word sounds foreign in my head.
Downstairs, the estate is quiet. A few men linger in the entry hall, talking in low voices about Redwood Point—the site we suspect Thorne will target soon.
Nobody acknowledges me beyond the usual respectful nod.
I pass them and duck into the dining area, half hoping Cecily is there.
Empty, aside from a single staff member clearing last night’s floral arrangements from the long table.
I recall how my brothers and associates congratulated me in that room after the ceremony, while Cecily simmered with anger. That memory puts me in a foul mood.
After scanning the ground floor for a minute, I decide to check the wing where her former room is located.
Although I asked her to choose a room closer to me, I suspect she ignored that request. I climb the stairs, pass a pair of guards, and then knock firmly on a door.
There’s no answer. I knock again, letting my knuckles hit with more force.
“Who is it?” Her voice leaks through the door. She sounds guarded.
“Dimitri.” I expect her to fling the door open and hurl a few insults—instead, the door creaks open a few inches, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her face.
She looks tired. Shadows circle her eyes, and her hair is still pinned in the remnants of last night’s style. A few tendrils have escaped to frame her cheeks.
“What do you want?” she asks in a hoarse voice.
She sounds as if she’s been crying. I don’t let myself dwell on how uneasy that makes me feel. “I came to see if you need anything. A change of clothes, perhaps breakfast brought up?”
She opens the door a bit more. She’s still in the same dress, though the skirt is rumpled, and the lace around her sleeves is crumpled. “I can handle my own clothes. Watley told me where they took them. As for breakfast, no thanks.”
I bite back a retort. She stands there like a challenge made flesh, and I can’t deny the tightness in my chest every time we speak. “Get some rest,” I say, reminding myself to stay calm. “We’ll talk later.”
She stands motionless for a moment, then closes the door without another word. The click of the latch resonates in my ears. I exhale and fight an urge to punch the wall. This isn’t how I pictured the morning after my wedding. Not that I ever pictured a wedding day in the first place.
I head toward my office, determined to bury myself in work.
Redwood Point has become a critical focal point for the Barkov family.
Thorne wants to strike there, hoping to cripple our shipping routes.
We’ve had scouts investigating every rumor, but the details remain sketchy.
Maksim promised me updates soon. If I have something to do, maybe I can keep my mind off Cecily for a few hours.
Inside the office, I find Aleksei and Maksim bent over a spread of documents. Aleksei peers up. “You’re awake early.”
I don’t bother with pleasantries. “Any news?”
“Some,” Maksim answers, tapping a page. “We caught wind of increased chatter near Redwood Point. Thorne might be in talks with other outfits who’d love to see us bleed. Kovalev’s name came up again.”
I recall our encounter with Kovalev’s men. We took them out before they could expand into our territory, but it seems we didn’t eliminate the entire threat. “He’s stubborn,” I say. “But we’ll deal with him if he’s foolish enough to side with Thorne.”
Maksim lifts a shoulder. “It may take more than just brute force. Thorne is forging alliances, and Redwood Point is a prize greater than any local scuffle. If he gains enough support, we’ll face a larger confrontation.”
“We dig deeper. We won’t let Thorne outmaneuver us.”
Aleksei taps a phone on the table. “I have a call with one of our informants in a few hours. If we’re lucky, we’ll confirm the scale of Thorne’s next move.”
“Let me know the moment you hear anything. I want Redwood Point locked down. Post men on rotating shifts, coordinate with the local ports, and double-check every entry route.”
They both nod. I glance over the scattered papers again, forced to remember that my personal life merges with this business. Cecily’s father is at the root of it all. If I don’t keep her safe, Thorne will exploit that weakness.
Maksim clears his throat. “How’s your wife?”
“Staying in a different room. She’s furious.”
“Give it time,” Aleksei urges.
I rub the back of my neck, annoyed at how powerless I feel. “I’ll keep trying. Right now, Redwood Point takes priority.”
Maksim clicks his tongue in agreement, and Aleksei returns to sifting through the documents. I murmur something about checking on other aspects of security, then stride out. Focus on the family business, I tell myself. Focus on Redwood Point. But the memory of Cecily’s cold stare clings to me.
I catch glimpses of her throughout the day, darting from one hallway to another, never meeting my gaze.
Each time I see her, the ring on her finger glints like a reminder of what I’ve done.
I know she wants to see Seraphina, and I promised she could.
But I just don’t see how I’m going to fit that in.
My day is spent bouncing between phone calls, strategy sessions, and ensuring that every piece of the Redwood Point puzzle is in place.
By late afternoon, I realize I haven’t eaten.
My stomach knots, but it feels more like guilt than hunger.
A plan forms in my mind: I can arrange a quiet dinner for two to see if she’ll sit down and talk.
My approach last night was nonexistent—I let her storm off.
Maybe sharing a meal in private will help defuse some of the anger.
I catch our head chef in the kitchen, going over inventory with staff. When I enter, the chef greets me and smooths his apron.
“I need dinner for two,” I explain. “Something good, but not excessive. My wife is in no mood for spectacle.”
“Any requests?”
“Keep it simple, but make sure it’s special enough that she notices I tried.” I grimace at how that sounds. I’m not used to playing the role of a husband who wants to please his bride, but we’re here, and I’m grasping at straws.
He smiles politely and promises something elegant.
I thank him and walk away, feeling ridiculous for orchestrating an intimate dinner in the midst of a looming war with Thorne.
My father would have told me to disregard personal matters until Redwood Point is secure.
Then again, my father wasn’t the one forced into a marriage; he was the one doing the forcing.
As evening approaches, the staff sets up a small table in the western wing, away from prying eyes.
Candles flicker on the table, next to covered dishes.
A cluster of daisies in a simple vase sits in the center.
I requested no overblown decorations, no banners announcing “congratulations,” and definitely no other guests. This meal is for Cecily and me alone.
I check the arrangement once. The staff hurries to finalize details, then recedes.
I stand by the doorway, scanning the corridor for signs of her.
One of the maids returns, telling me Cecily is on her way.
I nod, my heart pounding uncomfortably. She’s probably going to throw the daisies at my head. But I can’t give up on this attempt.
I wait. Then footsteps approach, and Cecily steps into view.
She’s traded her wedding gown for fitted black pants and a plain blouse that flares at the sleeves.
Her hair is brushed out, falling around her shoulders in a loose style.
She’s still wearing the ring, though she fiddles with it as if tempted to toss it away.
“What is this?” she asks.
I motion to the table. “Dinner.”
“So I’m forced into an alliance and then bribed with a nice meal after you’ve broken your promise about me seeing my sister. Quite the compensation package.”
“It’s not a bribe,” I insist. “I just figured we needed to talk without every guard listening.”
“Fine.” She moves around me and drops into a chair with more drama than necessary. I take the seat opposite her. The candlelight makes her look softer, but I doubt she feels that way.
I nod to the staff, and they silently place two covered dishes in front of us. Then they slip out, leaving us alone. We remove the lids. Chicken in a delicate sauce, a side of roasted vegetables, and a small bowl of fresh fruit. Nothing gaudy. Cecily pokes at the chicken, then glances up.
“Is this supposed to fix anything?”
“No, but maybe it helps us not hate each other while we eat.”
She takes a small bite, and when she doesn’t grimace, I take that a small win.
I tap my fork against the plate. “I’m sorry about last night. I know you felt cornered.”
“Felt cornered?” she scoffs. “I am cornered. I’m wearing your name, your ring, and living in your fortress.”
“I gave you options for your living arrangements, and I’m letting you see Seraphina soon. That’s not enough?”
“Don’t patronize me,” she says, setting her utensils aside. “I never wanted any of this.”
“Neither did I. I’m not proud of forcing you. If there was another path, I’d have taken it.”
“I doubt that. You’re used to taking what you want.”
I open my mouth to retort, then clamp it shut. Maybe she’s right. I’ve never questioned my methods this much before. “Look,” I begin, “we can keep tearing each other apart, or we can try to coexist. For what it’s worth, I’d rather we not spend our days snapping and glaring.”
She drags the fork across her plate in a slow scrape that sets my teeth on edge. “Coexist. Lovely word choice.”
“It’s all I can offer.”
She finishes another bite without replying. I set my utensils aside, waiting. My chest feels tight, the way it has ever since this whole ordeal started. I almost apologize again, but I stop. Apologies won’t change the circumstances.
We’re almost done with dinner when my phone rings. I glance at the screen and see Maksim’s name. He wouldn’t call unless it’s urgent.
I answer the call. “Talk to me.”
“We got the confirmation. Intel from the interrogation paid off. Thorne’s men are making moves on Redwood Point. It’s sooner than we anticipated.”
“How soon?”
“They’re staging within the next forty-eight hours, maybe less. Aleksei wants a meeting right now to plan our approach.”
My gaze flicks to Cecily, who’s watching me with a mix of confusion and worry. “I’ll be there,” I say to Maksim, then hang up and stand.
“You’re leaving?” Cecily asks.
“Yes. My men and I need to handle something. You stay here. The estate is safer than anywhere else. There’s still a chance Thorne might try something, but we’ll fortify the gates while I’m gone.”
Her posture turns rigid. “So I’m basically locked in again.”
“I’d prefer you think of it as protection, but call it what you want.” I search her face for some sign of acceptance. All I see is the same anger and maybe with a pinch of concern, though I might just be imagining that.
Maksim’s call replays in my mind, reminding me we don’t have time.
I glance at the half-eaten meal. “I have to go now, gather the team, finalize the plan.” I reach into my pocket, pull out my phone, and check a message from Aleksei that confirms the urgency.
Redwood Point’s infiltration could be imminent. This is our chance to stop Thorne cold.