Page 40 of Merciless Union
I try to contain my excitement. It won’t look good if I’m jumping up and down about to see my “dying” mother. Which, granted, isn’t a full lie. My mother is slowly dying, but she’s not on her death bed right now.
We’re silent on the car ride over.
Once we reach my house in the suburbs, I tell the guard to wait in the car. He nods, sighs, and fiddles with the radio.
I hurry to the front door, practically banging on it.
My father answers. “Arina, what a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know you were coming over today.” He pulls me into a hug.
“I’m so happy to see you, Dad,” I say, squeezing him back. “How’s Mom today?”
“So far so good.”
We head into the living room.
“If my husband calls, will you tell him I’m here to see Mom? You don’t need to say anything more.”
He frowns, settling onto the couch. “Arina, are you asking me to keep something from my boss?”
“No,” I say too quickly. “Just that I’m here to see Mom since she’s sick. That’s all he needs to know.”
He rubs a hand over his neck. “Are you having troubles? You seem agitated.”
“I’m good. I’m actually going to go see Mom now. It was great talking to you, Dad.” I kiss him on the cheek as I walk past him.
“Well, good to see you to,” he says, chuckling.
I hurry upstairs. My mother’s door is closed. Before I go and see her, I have something else in mind. I practically run up the stairs to the attic, where the smell of paint fills me with ease.
I grab a couple of blank canvases, fold my easel, grab all my brushes and paints, and stick everything in the corner. I need to sneak this stuff out without my father seeing. He means well, but he might mention something to Maxim, and I can’t have Maxim finding out I’m bringing my painting supplies back with me. I’ll store them in the guest bedroom once I return home. In the short amount of time I’ve lived in his penthouse, I’ve never seen Maxim go anywhere near that room.
I walk as calmly as I can back down stairs to my mother’s room. Knocking gently on the door, I poke my head in, seeing my mom resting on her bed.
“Arina?” she says, glancing up. “Honey, how are you?”
“Mom.” I sit next to her and give her a careful hug. She’s feeling more and more like a bag of bones. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” She pats my cheek. “How are you doing?”
I sigh. “Not good.”
She struggles to sit up. “Oh? What’s wrong?”
“Maxim and I got into this huge fight last night, and I haven’t seen him all day.”
“Well, couples sometimes fight, especially since you two are still getting to know each other.”
“No, Mom, that’s not it.” She blinks at my harsh tone. I take a soothing breath in and out. “Mom, he doesn’t respect me.”
She frowns. “How so?”
I stare down at my lap as I answer. “He … hurt me last night. Physically. When we were … intimate.”
“Oh, honey. Are you all right?”
I shrug. “I’m fine enough. He … spanked me,” I whisper the last words. “It hurt, but he didn’t stop. It’s like he got carried away physically with me—like he was so full of anger and passion that he couldn’t control himself. It … scared me. We got into this huge argument. I told him he wasn’t allowed to touch me ever again. At least, not until he starts showing me more respect.”
“Good for you. I’ve always taught you to stand up for yourself, and it makes me happy to see you doing that.” She opens her arms wide. “Come here.”
