Page 33

All of us collectively let out a snort, and Samara rolled her eyes.

The conversation shifted to sharing stories of the various injuries the women had inflicted on the men they loved during their unusual courtships.

Everything from Yelena’s hitting Damien with a brick, to Alina stealing Pavel’s gun. And how both Marina and Viktoria had learned the hard way that train travel had benefits and drawbacks when it came to quick escapes.

For the first time in years, perhaps ever, I felt like maybe I could belong.

Like maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to fight alone.

Viktoria got out of the pool and moved to a little metal cart I hadn’t noticed until now. Large metal domes covered plates, and as Viktoria uncovered them, she revealed several full glasses of cucumber water, plates of fresh fruit, and caviar with bellinis laid out by the staff.

One by one, we all got out of the pool, wrapped ourselves in towels and robes, and sat around on the comfortable patio furniture. I had to admit; this was probably the nicest basement I had ever seen.

It really was like a private resort.

A little oasis in the middle of a lot of chaos. I could get used to that.

The girls started chatting about some gallery, everyone relaxing and talking more freely. A few times they even pulled me into the conversation. It was casual, comfortable, and I really liked it.

Viktoria and Alina talked about their online classes, and Alina wondered out loud if they could go back to in-person classes now that I was going to be one of them.

Viktoria snorted and said probably not. Artem had gotten a little too used to interrupting her study sessions.

Soon after, the nanny stepped inside, a baby nestled in her arms and a small toddler clinging to her skirts.

Nadia’s baby and Samara’s toddler.

Everything changed.

The women melted instantly, softening for the child who pretended to be shy for a moment because she liked to bask in the attention. Laughter filled the space where only cool silence had once been.

Genuine laughter, not mocking, not forced or fake. But the sounds of an actual happy family.

I watched, detached, as they fussed over the baby and teased Alina about her own pregnancy, talking about names and how they were the most important decisions anyone could ever make.

I supposed for a lot of women, they were.

“Do you want children, Zoya?” Samara asked when it was her turn to hold the baby.

The question was genuine, and it was a natural question in the situation. But it still landed like a blow.

“You should,” Nadia said warmly, lifting Samara’s toddler to her knee.

“Roman is wonderful with kids. He’s always wanted them, a family of his own.

Even with all the complicated feelings around his own parents, kids have always just seemed like an inevitability for him. Roman will make a fantastic father.”

I opened my mouth, and the air was ripped from my lungs.

My vision blurred at the edges.

How stupid could I have been?

I allowed myself to believe—just for a second—there was a chance for me here. That I could find a way to belong and make a life among this family, be a part of something bigger. That just maybe, despite everything that happened and everything I did, I could make this work.

I should have known better. I thought I could be a part of this before I remembered what I was.

Before I remembered the one truth that I could never escape.

Reality always came crashing back down.

I could never give Roman what he needed most.

My medical condition made it impossible.

I tried to take a breath, but it caught in my throat, tight with the panic of knowing my body could never give Roman what he truly wanted. My lungs refused to work as tears burned behind my eyes, and I knew what I needed to do.

The warmth of the room, the laughter and the love suddenly didn’t feel cozy anymore. They suffocated me. The air was too thick; the walls were too close, and the weight of the conversation pressed down on my chest, refusing to let me breathe.

I needed to leave.

This couldn’t happen. This was not the life that I would be able to have.

I wasn’t built for this, and I needed to get out.

I couldn’t chain myself to a man who deserved everything, when I could only give him half of what he wanted, what he deserved.

It didn’t matter how I felt about him; it didn’t matter what I wanted anymore. Not when I knew—without a single doubt—that I would never be enough for him.

He was an honorable man, and he would keep his word no matter what, and I couldn’t force him to do that. He wasn’t like my father and every other man I knew that would just dispose of a wife who wouldn’t or couldn’t give him what he wanted.

He wouldn’t cheat; he wouldn’t go anywhere else to get what he needed. With or without my blessing, that just wasn’t who he was.

He was the type of man who would give everything up because he said he would; he had made a promise and he would follow through with it until it killed him, even if it turned his heart cold and whatever passion he felt for me shifted into resentment.

I couldn’t let that happen.

The conversation had turned to something else, and I wasn’t paying attention. I couldn’t hear it over the anxiety playing over and over in my head, telling me how I was going to trap this man into a life that he did not deserve.

My pulse pounded in my ears as I got to my feet and made some excuse to leave.

When I got back to the room, I took a deep, cleansing breath and refocused.

Not now. Not ever.

Opening the bedroom door, I looked at the guard. “Take me to Gregor.”