Page 183 of Filthy Promises

“Meanwhile, I don’t even know my own name anymore,” I continue, softer now. “Am I Rowan St. Clair? Rowan Petrova? Do I belong to your world? To his? To neither? Who am I, Vince?Who the hell am I?”

He moves toward me like he’s going to reach out, then stops himself. “You’re the woman I love,” he says simply. “The mother of my child. My future wife, if you’ll still have me.”

I shake my head in disgust. “How can you even ask that? After everything?”

“Because despite all of the bullshit, what we found together is real.” His voice lowers, intense and urgent. “I love you, Rowan. That wasn’t part of any plan. It wasn’t strategic. It wasn’t Bratva politics. It was just you. You, breaking through every wall I’ve spent a lifetime building.”

Part of me wants desperately to believe him. To fall into his arms and pretend the last twenty-four hours never happened.

But I can’t. I won’t.

“Even if I believed you,” I say carefully, “there’s too much broken between us now.”

“Then let me fix it.” He steps closer. “Let me earn back your trust. Day by day. Year by year. However long it takes.”

“It’s not that simple, and you know it.” I hug myself and rock side to side. “There’s more at stake here than just us.”

He runs a hand through his already mussed hair. “You carry my child, Rowan. Many people would kill to turn that into a trump card up their sleeve.”

“So I’ve been told.” I sink onto the edge of the bed. “Arkady. Anastasia. Now, you.”

“You spoke with Anastasia?” He looks surprised.

“I needed a perspective from someone who wasn’t you.” I shrug. “She seemed like the only person who might understand.”

“And did she?”

“She tried.” I look up at him. “She seems to think you actually love me. Can’t imagine where she got that impression, though.”

His eyes never leave mine. “She’s right.”

“But that doesn’t change how we started,” I say quietly. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been lying to me from the beginning.”

“No. It doesn’t.” He kneels in front of me, not touching, just bringing himself to my eye level. “But it might change where we go from here.”

I search his face, looking for any hint of the calculation, the manipulation I now know has defined our relationship from the start.

But all I see is exhaustion, desperation, and something that looks suspiciously like hope.

“What exactly are you proposing?” I ask carefully.

“Marriage,” he says without hesitation. “As planned. Not just for the inheritance now, but for your protection. With the Akopov name, you and the baby will be untouchable. Even to my father. Even to Grigor, should he discover your existence.”

I laugh bitterly. “And I’m just supposed to forget everything and fall into your arms?”

“No.” His voice is surprisingly gentle. “I expect you to hate me for a long time. To doubt me. To question everything. But I’m asking you to let me prove myself. Let me earn back what I destroyed.”

“And if I say no? If I walk away?”

His expression darkens. “Then I would still do everything in my power to keep you safe. But it would be more difficult. Without the protection of marriage, without my name, you’d be vulnerable. The baby would be vulnerable.”

“And my mother?” I hold his gaze. “If I say no, does she die?”

“I would never let that happen,” he says fiercely. “Regardless of your decision, I’ll make sure your mother gets the treatment she needs. That’s not conditional.”

“But your father?—”

“My father doesn’t control me anymore.” His eyes flash with a dangerous gleam. “He tried to hurt you. He crossed lines I won’t tolerate.”

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