16. Natalya

Chapter 16

Natalya

A lex is gone for a couple hours and I’m left alone in his apartment.

I feel like I haven’t actually gotten to look around. Everything’s been so strange and stressful and I’ve been too distracted.

But now that the apartment is quiet and it doesn’t look like my father’s coming back, I give myself a little tour.

It’s almost exactly what I would expect from Alex. Everything is in its exact right place, from this toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom to all the pots, pans, and dishes in the kitchen. I noticed there was no clutter on my first visit, but now it’s painfully obvious that he keeps his apartment obsessively pristine.

That fits with my image of him. Alexander the perfect soldier. Judgmental, vicious, aggressive Alexander. He could do no wrong, and now look at him. I wonder how it feels hearing my father and my brother calling him a traitor.

It’s probably like getting stabbed in the chest by his own family.

I try not to feel bad for him, but it’s hard.

My family and the Bratva were his entire life, and now it looks like he’s going to lose all that.

Just like I am too.

I feel adrift and confused as I end up outside on the balcony. The water in the pool is heated and I stick my feet inside. I try calling Lev, but it goes to voicemail after only a single ring—meaning he smashed that fuckyou button. I text him, just a little message saying he should call and talk to me, but he doesn’t. I didn’t really think he would.

But I wish I could explain.

How Alex showed up when I was playing piano. How I was naked, and lonely, and in a bad place, and how Alex looked at me like I was the most desirable woman in the entire world.

How we made a stupid decision with lasting consequences.

None of that matters now. We made our choice and I married Alex thinking that would somehow make everything okay.

I was stupid and naive.

And in the end, I’m still all alone.

I leave the pool and head inside as the door opens. Alex comes into the apartment. He stinks like smoke and heads directly into the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

I linger at the island as he throws down half a whisky.

“How about one of those for me?” I ask, trying a half-hearted joke.

He only glares at me. “You’re pregnant.”

“I know. I’m only kidding.”

“Good joke.” He finishes the glass and pours another.

“How bad is the shop?”

“Burned to the ground.”

My feet go icy cold. “That’s terrible. That shop was everything to Dad.”

“It’d been in his family for three generations.”

“What about the watches?”

“Some were in a fireproof safe and those should be fine. Some can be cleaned up. But we lost a lot.”

I slump down into a chair, feeling beyond exhausted, and it’s only a little past four in the afternoon. “What do we do now?”

“I met with Valentin Zeitsev.”

My eyebrows shoot up as Alex tells me about his conversation with the pakhan . I don’t mention that I ran away to Paris to avoid marrying him once-upon-a-time, although I don’t think I need to say it out loud. The stormy, possessive look Alex gives me suggests that thought occurred to him.

As if Valentin cares about me even in the slightest.

“Now you’re stuck cleaning up this mess.” I hunch forward on my elbows and prop my chin up. “How are you going to do it?”

“I’m not sure yet. Valentin offered me resources. I suspect I’ll make good use of those.”

“You’re going to fight a war for a Bratva that probably wants to throw you out.” I shake my head at the absurdity of the situation. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s our only option. Either I do as my pakhan requests, or I end up dead and my child is raised without a father. That’s not an option.”

I lick my lips and look away. “Where am I in all of this?”

“You’re here taking care of yourself.”

“I can’t seriously just sit around your apartment all day.”

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know.” Reality begins to assert itself. I’ve been able to hold it back until now, but life is a series of logistical hurdles and I’ve ignored mine for long enough. “I need clothes. Toiletries. I need my stuff.”

“I can arrange for that.”

“It’s all back at my dad’s place.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Alex—“

“I said I’d take care of it.” His jaw flexes as if he’s annoyed that I’m worried.

“I just don’t want something bad to happen if you go there.”

“And you think it would be better if you showed up.”

He’s got a point. Lev won’t even take my calls. I can’t imagine what my dad might say.

“How are we going to do this?” I ask him, struggling to hold back tears. He doesn’t need me getting all emotional on him right now, but I can’t help myself.

My world’s crumbling around me. I’m married and living in a man’s apartment, but I’ve never felt more alone.

My breathing gets fast. Sweat drips down my back and my palms are clammy. I put a hand to my chest and my heart’s racing wildly. I stagger up from my stool and walk away, trying to get myself under control, but I feel like I’m falling faster and faster, and down below is only more blackness, like I’ll never stop dropping down and down and down.

“Nat,” Alex says and his hands are on my arms. “Nat, deep breaths.”

“I fucked up,” I say trying to listen to him, but I’m dizzy and freaking out. I lean into him. “I fucked up,” I keep saying.

“Just breathe.” He’s surprisingly gentle. I half expected him to be annoyed by my emotional outburst—honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed by it—but instead, he’s patient and kind. He strokes my shoulders and hugs me against him until I manage to get myself into some kind of shape.

“Sorry,” I say, not looking at him as I disentangle myself from him. “I shouldn’t make my emotions your problem too.”

“You are the mother of my unborn child. It’s my duty to care for you.”

I look up and stare into his eyes, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s his duty to care of me , or if he’s caring for the baby I’m carrying.

“Our marriage really is off to a great start, huh?”

He gives me a small smile. “Life is always interesting with you around, Natalya.”

For whatever reason, I like the way my full name sounds on his lips.

He gets me settled after that. I don’t have my stuff, but he gives me what he can—spare clothes, spare bathroom stuff, whatever else he can—and I set up a little nest for myself in the guest room. There’s also a master and an office upstairs.

When I’m alone again, I try calling Maria. She doesn’t answer, and doesn’t respond to my text. I try Irina next, and get the same lack of response.

I try Lev, and this time, he picks up. My heart leaps into my throat.

“Stop calling me,” he says, sounding tired.

And hangs up again.