Page 18 of Sweet Deception

I rolled over, staring up at him. But he was already gone. Just the ghost of warmth where his body had been.

I didn’t sleep. Not really. The silence was louder than screams. I watched the ceiling until dawn crept in, coloring the room in sickly gold. Another day in this prison. Another chance to pretend I had control.

At 10 AM the following morning, I retreated to the library, a haven of old Russian novels and cherished Italian favorites.

I picked a new book with an attractive cover and, as always, flipped to the end to check for a happy ending, something I desperately needed. When I saw the final words promise a blissful future, I sighed and settled in, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Who is it?”

“Zoya,” came the reply.

“Come in.”

Zoya appeared, saying, 'Mr. Romanov wants you in for dance class.'

I remembered his 10 AM threat. “Tell him I’m not interested. I’ll dance again in Italy.”

“Anna,” she said gently, “are you sure?”

“He hurts me every chance he gets. I’m his wife, but I have my will. Tell him I’m busy.” Zoya nodded and left.

I’d barely read two pages when the door slammed open, jarring my heart. Gleb stood there, breathtaking in tailored elegance, his presence igniting a maddening thrill despite my hatred.

“Time for dance class,” he said, gaze piercing.

“I’m not interested.” He walked up to me with cold strides and seized my hand, pulling me close.

“No,” he commanded.

“Let me go!” I struggled as he carried me to the living room, setting me down gently.

A woman in a tutor’s outfit smiled politely nearby. “I’m Galina. Shall we begin?”

“Anna,” I said, forcing a smile.

“I’m Moscow’s best classical dancer. Google me. I’ll make you world-class. I was informed your legs are weak, so sit when you need to. I’m here to serve.”

“Okay.” My dream still burned, despite Gleb.

“I’ve learned these steps...” I recited them, then performed, panting by the end.

“Impressive,” Galina clapped.

“I need to sit,” I gasped, but Gleb’s hands lifted me onto his lap. Confused, I buried my face in his shoulder, his aftershave intoxicating. I stopped myself from touching his hair, this wasn’t real.

His arms around me felt too sure, too familiar. I should’ve pushed him away, screamed, anything, but my body betrayed me, melting into his warmth. The scent of his cologne... It shouldn’t have comforted me. And yet...

Minutes later, I felt better. “We can continue,” I said, standing.

I mouthed “Go!” at Gleb.

“No,” he replied firmly. I turned to Galina, catching her seductive glance at him. My stomach twisted, unprofessional and infuriating, though I shouldn’t care.

Gleb stood beside me. “What’s wrong,?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

He pulled me against his chest.