Page 42 of Merciless Union
My words from earlier about her being on her death bed were a ploy to come see her, but now those words bring guilt to my heart. Did I bring this upon my mother? The thought is too depressing to even contemplate.
All I can do is fall to the floor and cry. My father bends down next to me, tears streaming down his face.
My father and I cry together for the next hour while the doctor gives us space. We’ll have to get everything in order. But right now, it’s time to mourn.
A knock on the door is the only thing to pull my father and me apart.
I follow him downstairs, not wanting to be alone, as he answers the door.
It’s the guard. “Mrs. Petrov, I should take you home now. Mr. Petrov won’t like how long you’ve been away.” He takes in our tear stained faces. “Is something wrong?”
I look between him and my father. “No, just wait in the car. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” I shut the door in his face, turning to my dad. “I can stay here if you want me to. Screw what my husband wants.”
He rubs a hand over his face. “No, you should go home. Be with your husband. I’ll have to inform him of the news. And plan the funeral.” He starts to sob again.
I pull him into a hug. “Hey, I’m here. I’m always here. We’ll plan the funeral together.”
He nods, squeezing me so tight that it’s hard to breathe.
“And I’ll tell my husband,” I say. “So you don’t need to worry about anything more.”
He offers me a grateful smile. “What would I do without you?”
“I thought Mom had more time,” I blurt out. “It was all so sudden.”
“It was.”
We hug again, more tears falling from our eyes. A few minutes later, we finally manage to pull apart.
“I should go.” I remember my painting supplies. I’ve lost my mother. I’ll be damned if I have to go without painting now, especially in this trying time. “I’ll be right back.” I hurry up to the attic, grabbing all my supplies.
My father doesn’t comment as I bring it all back downstairs. He just smiles. “Paint her a picture.”
“She’s gone, Dad.”
“I know. But still. Paint something for her.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “I will.”
I finally go out to the car, loading all my supplies into it. “Don’t question it,” I snap at the guard as he looks over my haul. “Just take me to the penthouse.” My real home is the one my mother just died in.
I curl into the backseat as we drive back to the penthouse.
“Do you need help?” the guard asks, nodding toward all my stuff.
“Nope.” I grab everything and haul it to the elevator by myself, even though it’s awkward and my arms feel sore.
I stop in my tracks when I enter the penthouse door and see Maxim standing there, waiting for me. His face is twisted in anger.
“What do you have in your hands?” His voice rumbles deep in his chest.
I carefully place my supplies on the ground. “It’s my painting supplies.”
“Didn’t I tell you that you weren’t allowed to do that anymore?”
I shrug, crossing my arms. “You did. I chose not to listen. Especially after you hurt me last night. You don’t get any say in how I live my life.”
He storms up to me so fast that I flinch. I know he notices. He pauses, taking in a breath. “I’m your husband and boss. You will obey my orders.”
