Page 96 of Scarlet Thorns
I realize it with startling clarity.
But the flip side gnaws at me. What happens after the baby is born? Do I just accept his financial support and coast for the rest of my life? Somehow, that feels wrong— like selling pieces of myself for security. Why does he need me anyway, when hecould choose from hundreds of women who would leap at this opportunity?
It’s not your business, Ilona.
Treat it for what it is.
A business offer.
But let’s face it— I’m desperate. This proposition, insane as it sounds, might be the answer to prayers I was afraid to voice.
Taking a deep breath, I pull out my phone and type a message that will change everything.
“Offer accepted.”
I hit send before I can second-guess myself, before rational thought can interfere with what feels like the first real choice I’ve made in months.
The reply comes within a minute.
“Good. I’ll get the documents ready.”
Documents? Yup, he’s all business.
Get the romance part out of your head, Ilona!
I’m about to finish my tea and head inside to find Osip’s office when an ice-cold female voice cuts through the morning air behind me.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I spin around, tea sloshing dangerously close to the rim of my cup. Standing at the garden entrance is a woman who looks like she stepped off a magazine cover— a picture of platinum blonde perfection and predatory beauty. She’s tall, probably five-ten in the designer heels that I would never be brave enough to wear. Her hair falls in perfect waves past her shoulders, catching the sunlight like spun gold, and her face is a masterpiece of high cheekbones and full lips painted blood red.
But it’s her eyes that stop my breath— ice-blue and filled with the kind of venom that could kill at twenty paces. She’s dressed in a form-fitting white dress that’s clearly couture, every inch of her screaming wealth and entitlement. Diamondearrings catch the light as she moves closer, her beautiful features twisted into an expression of pure hatred.
“I… um… I…” I stutter, trying to find my voice. “I’m the new house manager—”
“Manager?” She laughs without humor— just bitter mockery that makes my skin crawl. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
I stare at her, my cheeks flaming. “I… excuse me?”
She stalks closer. Up close, she’s even more stunning— the kind of flawless beauty that makes other women feel inadequate just by existing. But there’s something cold about her perfection, like looking at a beautiful statue carved from ice.
“Don’t think I’m an idiot. I know what you are. And you have no place here, you little slut!” The words come out in a hiss, dripping with so much hate I actually take a step backward. “Osip is mine, and if I ever see your pathetic face around here again, I’ll tear every strand of hair from your worthless head!”
I blink at the force of the threat, surprised at how violently this total stranger is reacting to me.
“Look,” I try to keep my voice steady, “I don’t know who you are, but you’re making a mistake.”
“A mistake?” she scoffs. “You’re the one making the mistake, bitch.” She moves even closer, invading my personal space with the confidence of someone who’s never had to worry about consequences. Her perfume— something expensive and cloying— makes my nose burn. “Stay away from him,” she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper that’s somehow more terrifying than shouting. “Whatever little fantasy you have playing house here, it ends now. Osip will get bored of you soon enough, and when he does, I’ll be waiting.”
With that parting shot, she spins on her designer heels and storms away, leaving me standing in the garden like an idiot. Isink back onto the stone bench, my hands shaking so badly I have to set down my tea before I drop it.
What the hell just happened?
And who the hell was that?
But more importantly— what is she to Osip?
The jealousy that floods through me is immediate and intense, burning through my chest like acid.
