Page 34 of Scarlet Vows

And he also believed in me having my life away from the control of Demyan.

They liked each other, but Max wanted us to have our life.

I breathe out.

So why am I beyond nerve ridden?

I’m not betraying anything. I’m not starting anything. No matter how good-looking, how appealing and attractive Ilya is, no matter the crush I had on him when I was younger and he treated me like a kid sister, no matter about any of that, this is what it is. A business arrangement.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Ilya nods at me. “Are you sure about this,malyshka? It’s not too late for you to back out. And I’d understand if you did. Completely. It’s a lot, and you don’t need the burden.”

He reaches over and squeezes my hand, giving me a reassuring and supportive smile.

It crushes me.

Absolutely crushes me. Ilya, as usual, puts me first. It’s what he does. I can’t let him down. He needs my help. And I’m going to give it to him.

My issues are mine, not his, and the truth is I’ll have them for a long time. Moments of guilt because Max isn’t here, sadness and pain, and moments where I question what I’m doing. Max would hate that. He’d want me happy. He’d want me to move on. He’d want me to fly.

And I’m going to fly and help out Ilya.

“I’m fine, I promise,” I say. “Now eat!”

On Sunday nights,I’ve got a tradition with Isla that goes back to before Max proposed. He’d either make himself scarce by playing video games in the bedroom or going out with his friends, and we’d stay in for drinks and trashy TV.

Tonight’s no different.

Every Sunday through Monday, Maize is with her dad. He’s a horrible man to be married to or date, but even I’ll admit that no matter how miserable he made Isla, he’s a doting dad. He loves his kid, and she loves him.

I hug Isla when she arrives, and she holds up a bottle of vodka. I had a driver pick her up, so if she wants to drink a little too much, she can just either crash here or have a safe ride home. When I lived with Max, I’d get her an Uber. Now I use Demyan’s resources at the mansion.

“Pizza’s almost here.”

“Did you send one of Demyan’s men to collect it?”

I blush. “I did. I got a plain and our usual?—”

“Pepperoni, red onion, and kalamata?”

“Of course.”

She follows me into the living room, where I’ve already thrown pillows and blankets on the floor, and the projector is set up so we can watch on a massive scale.

I wave the remote. “Love or Flight’s about to start.”

“And they’re playing that trashy teen movie later.”

We look at each other before jumping up and down. “Double trash!”

We make cocktails with some of Magda’s juice, and there are chips and crackers and dips in case we’re still hungry.

Mikhail knocks on the door ten minutes later with the pizza, and I thank him. We settle down and eat, drink, and watch our terrible TV.

A few hours later, we’re both a little tipsy and sprawled on the floor, munching on chips and cold pizza and watching reruns ofThe Bachelor.

I sigh and roll toward Isla.