Page 45 of Devil's Vows

“I want Papa,” she whines in Russian.

Me, toozaps through my mind, and I suppress a snarky laugh. The Devil’s still at work this morning despite all my prayers. I have to bite my tongue to not respond, here where I’m alone with the girls, in their mother tongue.

“I’m here, Katya,” I say, sitting down on the bed. “Papa had to go to work.”Ha!And that is God’s work. Separating me from my temptation.

That Ivan is gone seems to upset Katya even more. She breaks down in sobs but clings to me as I wrap her little body in my arms. Irisha clambers over and settles on my other leg, pressing her face into my neck.

We’re still sitting like this, Katya slowly quieting down, Irisha sucking her thumb, when Yuri peers into the space.

Irisha pops her thumb from her mouth. “Yuri, did Papa really go to work?”

“Yes,malyshka, he will be back tonight,” he says, and then stares at me. “Get going, I have many meetings today. You can be with the girls in the conservatory while I’m on calls.”

I nod as a shudder runs through me at his heavily accented English, his cold eye and emotionless delivery of instructions. He is direct with the same glacial charm from yesterday.

“Let’s get you dressed, girls,” I say, forcing myself to be chirpier than I feel after a restless night. Yuri is like a bucket of cold water on any desire, even if the soft swipe of Ivan’s thumb over my cheek still echoes, so tender, as if he could erase all my hurt with his mere hands. That touch was a quiet promise, a promise I shouldn’t read anything into, but I can’t help myself.From now on, I provide and care for everything you need, understand? Everything and anything.

Even in this, he’ll care and provide for me, and the thought makes me ache because what would it be like to belong to a man like Ivan?

Needless to say, Chiara has many things to say about that, but by nine in the morning, she’s finally shut up. We’ve had breakfast, and I made a shopping list for Yuri to pass on to Kostya to fetch. Apparently, we don’t do online deliveries here. Kostya fetches anything at a moment’s notice to avoid unwanted, random packages infiltrating the house. Another security measure.

The girls are busy in the conservatory with arts and crafts. I must make a proper study plan for them since right now, I’mjust snatching at what seems easiest. I need to take stock of all the materials on hand and see what we need and how to best make use of the vast grounds surrounding the house. There are so many opportunities here, and no, the girls don’t need to leave the compound at all, except for socializing with other kids, which is clearly not in the cards.

In my head, I’m making long-term plans, and I shouldn’t. Getting invested, starting to care for the girls, allowing them to crawl into my heart like they’re already doing, is going to be my undoing. What if I can’t walk away because of them?

Yuri is seated at the kitchen island, one eye and one ear on us. He’s busy on his laptop, making calls I try my best not to eavesdrop. It’s going to be a trial to hide my understanding of Russian under this man’s watch. If he guesses my secret, who knows what he’ll do to me. Probably hand me over to the firing squad patrolling the grounds.

Earlier, when we went outside to feed the chickens and the rabbits, I could feel eyes on us, coming from all sides. The forest. The house. With the privacy film on the windows, I couldn’t find the eyes, but they were there. Milana, security…who knows. I prefer to be inside the house now as it feels less like I’m in a petri dish being observed for weird behavior.

When Yuri walks into the conservatory, holding his phone out to me, I straighten where I’ve been leaning over between the girls, setting down some paint.

“It’s for you. Mr. Petrov is on the line.”

Oh, gosh. Just as I’ve managed to put him on the back burner in my mind.

“Thank you.” I take the phone. “Mr. Petrov?”

It’s Ivan, but don’t worry about it, we’ll get there.

“You don’t have your phone with you, and I want to check in.”

He’s checking in? Of course he is. “Sorry, I forgot it in my room. I’m not used to having a phone with me all the time.The girls are fine, we’re busy painting. Do you want to talk to?—”

“I know. They’re safe with you. I’m wanting to make sure you’re okay. To ask if you’ve phoned your brothers.”

I take two steps to the nearest seat and sink onto it.Heis worried aboutme. “I haven’t had time.”

“Make time. Do so now.”

“Okay.”

“Listen, I’m not going to be home tonight.”

My heart skips a beat. The good little Catholic convent girl in me sends athank youto the Lord above. The need between my legs, which the Devil has been stoking with every rogue thought of Ivan, gives a long and yearning throb.I’m a lost cause. “The girls are expecting you home, though?”

“This is my life,moya ptichka.Prepare them. I have an apartment at the office. You will be fine, won’t you?”

“Yes…it’s just—” There’s so much I still need to learn, to get to know, to organize. This feels like a very deep end.