Page 65 of Filthy Lies

“Then why stay?”

“Because I love him,” I say simply. “Even with all the danger and lies and complications, life with Vince is infinitely better than life without him.”

Anastasia keeps staring into her wine as if it’s hiding answers from her. “Daniel—or Daniil, whatever; God, my brain is a mess—wants me to meet his father. Officially. As his fiancée.”

“Meeting with Grigor,” I muse. “I can relate to that particular terror. We sat down yesterday.”

Her eyebrow floats upward. “Oh? What was it like?”

“Surreal.” I toy with my fingernails as I think back on yesterday’s meeting. “Like looking into a mirror and seeing parts of yourself you never recognized before.”

“Were you afraid?”

“Yes. But not of him, exactly. More of what he represented—this whole side of myself I never knew existed.”

Anastasia nods, understanding. “I’m terrified,” she admits. “Loving a Petrov changes everything.”

“Love tends to do that.” I smile wryly. “It reshapes your entire world, whether you’re ready or not.”

She absorbs that with yet another slow nod, never taking her eyes off her wine. Just twisting the stem in her hands back and forth, back and forth.

“I thought I was special,” she muses quietly. “I thought our situation—mine and Daniel’s—was uniquely complicated. But hearing you talk about Vincent…” She shakes her head. “We’re not so different, are we?”

“No,” I agree. “We’re not.”

“I was so angry when I found out,” she confesses. “I threw things. I screamed. I told him to get out.”

“Understandable.”

“But the moment he walked out the door, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I’ve spent my entire life following rules, meeting expectations. Daniel—Daniil; shit, that’s gonna take some getting used to—is the one thing I’ve ever chosen for myself.”

“Sounds familiar,” I say with a small smile.

She looks up at me. “Did I make a mistake coming here?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Strangely enough, I think I might be the only person who could understand.”

“I thought you hated me.”

“I did, at first. When I thought you were going to marry Vince.” I laugh softly. “But that feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Before Sofiya.”

“Before a lot of things.”

We sit in companionable silence for a moment, the tension between us dissolving into something approaching camaraderie. Two women bound not by friendship but by circumstance—by the shared experience of loving men whose worlds should have remained closed to us.

“She’s beautiful, by the way,” Anastasia says. “Your daughter.”

“Thank you.” I smile. “She has Vince’s eyes.”

“And your strength, I imagine.”

“God help us all if that’s true.”

Anastasia laughs for real this time—a genuine sound that transforms her face. As she does, I can see what Daniel must see in her. There’s a person beneath the flawless makeup. There’s a heart, a real one, a big one.

“I should go,” she says, setting down her wine glass. “Daniel is waiting for my answer about meeting his father.”

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