Page 95 of Forced to Marry the Russian Pakhan
I dismiss Elena with a nod, waiting until the door closes behind her before letting my mask slip. The pain that floods through me has nothing to do with my shoulder.
She’s gone back to them. After everything—the revelation of how little they valued her—she’s still chosen them over me.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Blood is blood. And what am I to her, really? The man who kidnapped her. Forced her intomarriage. Got her pregnant. Used her at the gala to make a point. Nearly died and made her save me.
But damn it, I thought... I thought things had changed between us.
I thought of her voice, cracking with emotion as she worked to save my life. “You idiot,” she’d called me. “You absolute idiot.” Like she couldn’t bear the thought of losing me.
Had I imagined all of it? Had I been seeing what I wanted to see, feeling what I wanted to feel?
No. I know what I saw in her eyes, what I felt in her touch. It was real.
And now it’s gone, slipped through my fingers like water because I never told her. Never said the words that might have made her stay.
I grab my phone from the nightstand, ignoring the breakfast tray entirely. There’s only one person who might know what’s really going on.
Valentin answers on the second ring. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“The Fyodorovs,” I cut straight to it. “Where are they staying?”
A pause. “Still in Boston, last I heard. But I don’t know exactly where. Why?”
“Yulia’s gone to see them.”
Another pause, longer this time. “And you think she’s not coming back.”
Valentin knows me too well and can read the fear beneath my anger, even over a phone connection.
“I need to find her,” I say.
“Trifon,” Valentin’s voice goes serious, “maybe she just wanted to talk to them. It doesn’t mean—”
“I know what it means,” I snap. “She’s made her choice. But I need to see her one more time. I need to tell her—” I break off, not ready to say it out loud, even to my brother.
“Tell her what?” he presses.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, already moving to get dressed, phone wedged between my ear and shoulder. “Just keep an eye on things while I’m gone. If something happens to me—”
“For fuck’s sake, Trifon,” Valentin interrupts. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Where are you going?”
“To find the Fyodorovs.”
“How the hell will you find them?
I pull on pants with one hand, wincing as the movement pulls at my stitches. “They’ll have a safehouse somewhere in the city.”
“Trifon, wait—”
I hang up, not bothering to hear more. He’ll be pissed, but I don’t have time for his concerns. Every minute that passes is another minute she slips further away from me. Another minute to convince herself she’s better off without me.
And maybe she is. Maybe they all are. However, I need to tell her the truth before she makes a decision.
I need her to know that I love her.
That I’ve loved her for longer than I even realized.
That whatever life she chooses, whatever she wants to build for herself and our child, I’ll support it, even if it means letting her go.
