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“How are you feeling, princess? Can I get you anything?” I shut the office door behind me and hope that for just a few minutes, family business can wait. I haven’t been able to care for Anya the way I’d like lately, and it’s pissing me off. I’m worried, too, that she’s not getting better.

She’s too thin, too pale, and too mild-mannered. The last is the biggest concern. If something can make Anya Milov act as she has been, it must be serious. I haven’t gotten a bit of sass in days.

There’s no answer, so I walk quietly into the living room just in case she’s sleeping. I hope she is; she needs the rest. The couch is empty, apart from Zephir, who lifts his head in mild curiosity as I enter.

“Oh, just you,” I say, giving the dog a pat. “Are your siblings outside? And where is Anya? Upstairs?”

He hops off the couch to follow me up the stairs, first to Anya’s room. I knock softly and open the door when there’s no reply, but the room is empty. Usually, she sleeps in mine, so I head down the hall to my bedroom but find it empty as well. Unease starts to trickle in.

“Anya?” I call, louder now. “Where are you?”

I check the bathrooms and then do a quick search of every room in the house, finding all of them empty.

Then I head outside. Sometimes, she’ll sit on the deck in the sunshine, and I love to see her reclined out there, book in hand, skin turning golden.

But she’s not out there, either, and it’s too late for sunbathing.

Not again. Was she taken right out from under my nose, or has she run off again?

The latter is preferable, barely, given that the last time she tried that she was nearly kidnapped.

I flip back in my mind for any threat from the Shevchenkos that might indicate they were planning something like this, but I come up blank.

Besides, unless they grabbed her while the dogs were inside, there’s no way they could have gotten through without setting off a massive storm of barking.

I pull out my cell phone and dial Anya, but the call goes straight to voicemail. Fuck. How long was I in my office without checking on her? Hours. Long enough that she could be long gone.

Improbable as it seems that they could grab her without my noticing, the thought of Anya in the hands of the Shevchenkos keeps flashing through my mind.

There’s nothing the bastards wouldn’t do, but Anya is a Milov, and if they have any hope of reestablishing their alliance with that family, they have to keep her safe. Or was this Anton’s doing?

He’s been opaque through our dealings, never promising more than the ceasefire and a stop to aiding the Shevchenkos directly for the moment. Has he been planning to steal Anya back?

Or maybe this was Anya’s idea. Maybe she got tired of me not letting her in while she’s sick and decided to go behind my back to return to her family.

That thought nearly crushes me, constricting around my heart like a vise.

I was an idiot to think this was anything more than a marriage of convenience for her, that what we’ve shared was anything other than lust and opportunity.

Fucking idiot, and now it’s cost me.

I try Anya again, then dial Anton’s number. At first, it rings through to voicemail, but the second time I call, he picks up.

“What is it, Matvei?” His voice is clipped, and it’s obvious I’m the last person he wants to be talking to. Well, the feeling is mutual, but I can’t afford to make an enemy of him right now. I hate asking him for anything, but my concern for Anya is bigger than my pride.

“Do you know where Anya is?”

He snorts, and my fingers tighten around the phone, wishing it were his neck instead. Asshole. “Can’t keep track of your own wife? ” he asks with a sneer.

I grit my teeth and feel something pop in my jaw. “Do you know where Anya is?” I repeat, biting off the end of each word.

He lets me dangle a little longer before finally responding. “Yes, unlike you, I can keep track of the people I care about.”

I refrain from reminding him that he’d had no idea where Anya was after I kidnapped her, barely. “Where is she?”

At least she’s not with the Shevchenkos, which eases the worst of my fears, even if it does imply she’s betrayed me again.

Running off to be with her family, after telling me she wanted to stay.

It’s a sour, bitter feeling that settles in my gut.

Was she plotting this the entire time? Even as we bathed together?

“She’s with Ella, and I’m guessing she doesn’t want to see you if she didn’t tell you where she was going. So, what did you do? How did you fuck up so badly?”

He’s enjoying this, but I don’t need him to tell me any more than that. I know where Ella lives, and I know Anton is currently out of town. I hang up and grab my car keys.

***

Fifteen minutes later, I’m outside Ella’s house, pounding on the door. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Anya. If she doesn’t want to be with me, then what?

Ella answers the door, her eyebrows pinched together. “Matvei, what are you doing here?”

She keeps the door mostly closed so I can’t see past her. I could shove my way inside, but I’ll try the diplomatic route first.

“I’m here to see Anya.”

“I don’t know if she wants to see you,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.

“I think she at least owes me an explanation.”

“It’s okay, Ella, I’ll talk to him.” Anya’s voice comes quietly from somewhere behind Ella, who steps aside to make room for her.

I look her over from head to toe, making sure she’s not injured. She’s standing straighter, and there’s a little more color in her face than there has been recently.

She steps outside onto the doorstep and shuts the door, crossing her arms around herself and not meeting my eye.

“You ran off again,” I say, clenching my hands at my sides.

“I was lonely,” she says with a shrug, “I was going to come back.”

“And you couldn’t tell me that,” I spit out, “before you ran off and made me panic? I thought you’d been kidnapped. You told me you wouldn’t do this again, and I trusted you.”

She drops her eyes to the steps, then finally lifts them to meet mine. “I don’t want to argue with you here. Just take me home.”

Home. Hearing her call it that now, after she’s just done this, makes me laugh coldly. “So you can run off again the next time you’re what, lonely?”

“It was only a few hours. I needed to talk to Ella.” Anger sparks in her eyes, and her tone turns heated.

“Then you tell me that before you take off. I’m supposed to believe you just wanted to talk? That this isn’t part of some plot?”

Her eyebrows rise. “Plot? There’s no plot. Jesus, you’re so suspicious. Look, I’m not talking about it here, so either take me home or leave, your choice.”

Of course I want to take her home. Despite the bitter taste of yet another betrayal, I don’t want her to leave. Pathetic.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

I wait at the end of the drive for her to say goodbye to Ella. She stalks past me to the car and climbs in without a word. We drive home in silence, the dull roar of the engine filling the awkward space between us.

My head is screaming at me to get some answers, but I wait until we walk in the front door to start questioning her.

“What the fuck was that about? What is wrong with you?”

She kicks off her shoes and walks down the hall away from me. “I told you, I was lonely and I wanted to see Ella.”

“From so sick you can barely leave the couch to feeling up to running off? Was the sickness just an act?”

“No, obviously it wasn’t an act! You know that. You’re being an idiot.”

I follow her down the hall into the living room. “I’m the idiot, you’re right, but not for that. For believing you when you said you wouldn’t run off again. I want a good explanation, Anya, because right now I’m finding it hard to trust you.”

I hate the way she’s avoiding my eye. I want to grab her and force her to look at me so I can read the truth in her face, but I know better than to touch her right now. She doesn’t want it.

“I’m not a prisoner here, am I? I’m your wife. So sometimes I’m allowed to leave and see my friends, right? What other explanation do you need?”

I laugh. “Yes, princess, you’re allowed to leave, but most people don’t just run off without a word of goodbye unless they’re trying to hide something. What are you hiding?”

I can feel it all slipping out of my hands in this moment. I’m losing her, if I ever had her to begin with, and the feeling is a thousand cuts across my skin, each sharper than the last. With every denial and evasive response from her, I feel another.

“I’m not hiding anything,” she says, spinning to face me. “Oh my God. You’re being unreasonable. Can’t you just leave it alone? I wanted to see my friend, so I did. I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission before leaving, Dad.”

The old insult hits differently now. I cross the space between us in two long strides, forcing her to look up at me. “This is why your brothers keep you on a short leash, princess. You’re reckless and untrustworthy. You can’t be given any responsibility.”

Her eyes flare with hurt, and I choke down an apology that flies to my lips. “You’re a prick.”

That insult hurts less than the last, my armor already sliding back into place. “I don’t deny it. But you’re not answering my questions. What’s the real reason you ran off? Are you plotting something with your family?”

She rolls her eyes. “Seriously? Plotting something? I told you the reason. Believe it or not, I don’t care. I’m going to bed now, if that’s okay with you. Do I have your permission to go to the bedroom?”

I know there’s something she’s not telling me, something she’s hiding from me, but I don’t know how to get it out of her. I thought we were past the secrets and the lies, but I was being naive.

“Yes,” I reply just as sarcastically, “you do.”

She hesitates on the staircase, turning toward me. “Are you coming?”

To our bed, she means. But I can’t stomach the thought of sleeping next to her tonight, not with this secret between us.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She bites her lip, and I almost reach for her, but she turns away before I can find the words.