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Chapter Twenty-Two

ERIN

Three weeks ago, my life changed for the second time in a dramatic way. Not like getting pregnant, but Max’s death, my… not kidnapping, but something close to it by Demyan is something that ranks in cataclysmic.

So is being locked up away from my son.

And seeing him be a father who desperately loves his son, perhaps to a depth he doesn’t even realize.

Then there’s the sex.

Just that once.

A marriage demand.

That last lot was a week and a half ago—from him letting me out and seeing firsthand how good he is with Sasha to the sex. I’m still in my room, at my insistence, and he’s okay with it. For now.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kara demands on the other end of the phone. “I’m worried. The thing with Max…”

Her voice drops and my heart hurts, but I just say, “Sasha has his father now, and they’re bonding. I owe it?—”

“You owe nothing,” she says.

“To Sasha. Besides, his sister needs me, too. ”

She breathes out. “How crazy is it she’s the one who was marrying Max? I’ll come by?—”

“Soon,” I say, feeling like the worst friend. But while I’m feeling more at home here in the mansion, I’m not sure Demyan will be comfortable with me inviting people over. And what the hell is Kara going to say when she sees all the security?

We chat some more and when I hang up, I can hear Demyan. I drift off to see him as Sasha’s down for his nap, but there’s something in his tone that makes my step falter, and in the end, I turn and go the other direction.

I’m not about to listen at closed doors, even if I’m desperate to know more about him and what he really does. But the guard who eyes me helps make up my mind.

The tone is low, flat, and deadly. I head up to my room to read. Really, I’m going to need something to do soon. I’m not made to be a homebody, though it has its perks of spending as much time as I can with Sasha. I just need things to do and with all the staff, there’s nothing but Sasha.

And Demyan.

Almost like I summoned him, he appears. Those cool, icy eyes, which heat only for me, drift over my body as though he’s memorizing every line. “I have a thing tonight. Will you come?”

He phrases it as a question, but it’s an order, soft and wrapped up in gauze, but an order.

“Like a date?”

I’m not sure most would notice the hesitation, but in the short while I’ve been here continuously micro-adjusting our relationship, my standing, my reading of him, I do. To me, it’s wide like the Grand Canyon and just as deep. “If you like.”

I nod. “And if I say no?”

“It’s in the city, a swank place.” His hand clenches. “I’d like you to come. ”

My heart dips and soars. For Demyan, this is open. This is raw. He’s so far out of his comfort zone that so am I. “Sasha?—”

“I’ve got a penthouse. He can stay there.” His jaw muscle works. “Not alone. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” And suddenly, an idea comes to me. “My friend Kara could babysit.”

“I was thinking Olga or Alina.”

Frowning, I shake my head. “If you want this to work, then we do this together, as in you listen to my input. Sasha loves Kara. He should see her. Or am I really just a fancy prisoner, still? As for your sister? She might not want to. She’s still grieving.”

“She needs to get her life on track. I can’t bring him back or I would.”

“Please?”

He breathes out. “Fine. I’ll send you a dress.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I say to Ilya as Demyan rubs shoulders with the rich.

At his breathtaking penthouse, which has been baby-proofed including a room of Sasha’s own, his sister, Olga, and Kara are all sharing the duties, though why it takes three people to watch a two-year-old is beyond me.

Demyan seems to think it’s a compromise when it’s really him getting his way and indulging me. Or rather, his son.

Olga… there’s a part of me that wonders if she’s there to make sure Kara doesn’t steal him in the night.

“Ah, you fit, Erin.”

I look at him. “Why am I back here with you?”

If he was a lesser man, he’d run a finger around the edge of his collar. “Demyan has business to attend to, but there are some you should talk to for him.”

“I’m not part of his business.”

He mutters something in Russian into his drink as his gaze sweeps the room. The upscale bar is closed for this event. “A part of doing this is making small talk. Those people over there, he’s looking to do business with. A friendly, pretty face does wonders, as does intelligence.”

“Are you pimping me out?”

His gaze cuts into me.

And I bite down on a smile. They were talking about someone in the car here.

Maybe it’d be good to get my mind off Sasha as well as the billion questions Kara’s going to fire at me tomorrow, not that I have a phone of my own.

The one I’m using is very much something Demyan’s given me to use.

But she’ll call since she has that number now.

What was the name? “Sergio?”

Ilya goes still. “No. Sergio isn’t here.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s an ally. Of sorts. I’d never point you toward him. These are businessmen looking for a dash of notoriety and increasing their worth. They’ll probably bore you with cars, golf, and badly aimed compliments. American men.”

I don’t point out he lives here and sounds American. I just hide my smile. “Wish me luck.”

I head over to the bar and one of the men catches my arm, asking if I came with Demyan. I just smile, trying to remember how certain meetings were run where I did all the work and was treated like the coffee girl. Men like this like their own voice. And, apparently, the cut of my dress.

Their flirt is annoying and harmless, and I go along for about five minutes before Demyan turns up. “If you’ll excuse us, gentlemen. Ilya will see if I have appointments.”

His tone is cool and emotionless, and they basically fall all over themselves to win him over. But it seems from that moment on I’m kept at his side until finally, we head back.

“Demyan—”

“Not yet.”

Is he mad at me? My head spins as we go up to his penthouse, and his sister, Kara, and Olga are not only dismissed, but taken to their respective homes.

I stand in the huge living room with the glittering lights of the city below.

“Get Sasha.”

“No, I?—”

“Get Sasha.” For a moment, he softens. “I want him to wake at home with all the familiar things. This is an adventure, nothing more.”

“It’s not like I can do anything else, can I? I can’t insist on staying here.”

“Erin—”

But I stop listening and collect our son and the things I brought over for him.

Ilya and a guard are waiting and Demyan takes Sasha, giving me no option but to follow him down.

The ride back to the mansion is quiet, with Sasha waking once but falling back to sleep from the motion of the car.

At the mansion, I tuck him in and I get up to go to my room when Demyan drags me into his. “From now on, you stay in here. We’re getting married, remember? Time to start acting like it.”

“Well, how can I resist with your amazing, romantic moves?”

“You want romance?” His eyebrows rise and I want to hit him. In fact, I almost dare. Almost.

“Now, what do you think, Demyan?” I cross my arms. “One would think the order to marry you was the height of romance, and I should swoon at every turn. ”

“You—”

“What?” I cut him off, poking and pushing him until he hits the wall.

It’s not my strength. It’s the fact I think he’s in total shock.

“You were hard done by losing two years of your son’s life?

Don’t you think I’m fighting the guilt on that so it doesn’t overwhelm me?

The guilt you piled on me. The guilt I deserve.

But I mean it when I say I didn’t know you’d want him and you live in a fortress with armed guards, so maybe my brother was right in his warning. ”

He stares at me and I’ve knocked the mask off his face, but I’m not done.

“I didn’t know you’d be such a wonderful father. I see how you love him and dote on him, and I’m trying to make up for my crimes by going along with your… your tactics. But maybe something to make me feel desirable wouldn’t go astray.”

I bite my lip.

“Or else just say you want to be a family in appearances only. But you ordered me to come out with you tonight. You chose a dress. You?—”

“And you look fucking hot in it,” he mutters, suddenly snapping back into himself. This time, he stalks me across the room. “I asked if you wanted to come tonight.”

“That was an order.”

“Romance is a lie,” he says. “Something idiotic people play at to get what they want. I prefer to cut to the chase and tell you what I want.”

“Which is?” My heart thumps hard against my ribs as I wait for his answer.