56. Viviana

He knows.

He knows I killed Trofim.

I have no idea how he knows, but he knows.

I knew this moment would come. I just didn't think it would happen while I was still flushed from an orgasm and sticky with Mikhail's cum on my abdomen.

"How did you find out?" I whisper.

He doesn't answer. Maybe he can't even hear me. Based on the scarlet flush creeping up his neck, he might not be hearing anything but the thundering of his own heart.

I can't even blame him.

"Were you planning to kill me, too?" he growls, leaning forward to spit each word in my face. "Maybe you can take out both Novikov heirs and wind up with Anatoly. Has that been your plan all along? If so, you've picked the most pleasant of the bunch, I have to admit."

Mikhail being jealous of my friendship with Anatoly would stand out as important on any other day. Today, it isn't even a footnote.

"No!" I cry. "No, I don't have a plan. There was never a plan."

"You flying to Russia and tracking down Trofim was an accident? That's what I'm supposed to believe?"

Some desperate part of me still hoped this was a misunderstanding, but that confirms it.

He knows everything.

I can't hide it anymore.

"It wasn't an accident, but I didn't want to do it. Please, Mikhail." Tears are rolling down my cheeks now, dripping onto my bare chest. I've never been more vulnerable than I am right now. "Please."

"Is this how it went? Did Trofim beg for his life as you murdered him?"

I squeeze my eyes closed. I can still feel his brother's blood on my hands as I walked out of his house. The way the blade glanced off of bone.

"I didn't want to do it," I repeat, gasping for breath as tears I've buried for six years come pouring out. "My father didn't give me a choice. I didn't have a choice."

Mikhail doesn't move, but I feel the shift in the air. He's listening now, alert. "What did your father do?"

I know what he's asking, but I have to start at the beginning. If there's any hope of Mikhail understanding, I have to start at the very beginning.

"I was going to marry another man. Years before Trofim," I explain as quickly as I can. "He was poor, but he loved me, and I loved him."

"I don't want to hear about?—"

"My father murdered him," I blurt. "He found out that I was going to marry Matteo and it would have made me useless. He couldn't use me as some political pawn if I was married to another man. So he kidnapped Matteo, tied him up, and made me watch as he murdered him."

Some nights, when I'm running through the empty darkness of my nightmares, I can hear Matteo's screams. I hear him begging for mercy.

He never gets any.

Neither do I.

"My father would do anything to make sure he didn't lose control over me, including killing Dante." I look into Mikhail's dark eyes, begging him to believe me. "If he thought being pregnant with your child would be a risk to our family, he would have never let me keep him."

He stares down at me, his expression unreadable. That's okay, because as long as he's standing here, there's hope. As long as he's listening to me, there's a chance I can fix this.

"So I did what I needed to do to make sure that Dante would survive," I plow ahead. "I did what I needed to do to make sure Dante would be the son of a pakhan, because that's what my dad wanted."

"My father's theory wasn't so far off, then," Mikhail mumbles. I have no idea what he's talking about. Before I can ask, he commands, "Tell me what happened. All of it. Now."

"Okay. Okay." I nod and try to speak through hiccupping sobs. "After you told me to get out of the hotel and away from this life while I still could, I went on the run. My father tracked me down after a few weeks—the same day I took a test and found out I was pregnant. He was going to take me to get an abortion and put me straight back on the marriage market. Trofim didn't work out, but he had the next rich asshole lined up for me to marry. I felt like a pig at market. I felt?—"

"Trapped," Mikhail finishes.

I swipe the tears from my cheeks. "Yeah. So I told him the baby belonged to you. I knew that would mean something to him. But things were still so up in the air with your family. No one knew if Trofim would come back and fight for the crown or if your father would stand up to you. Being pregnant with your baby only meant something if you could hold onto your position as next in line to be pakhan. So my father told me he would let me go… if I killed Trofim."

Mikhail opens his mouth to respond, but I need to get this out. All of it. Right now.

"He probably didn't think I'd agree, but there was no other way out. Not that he was actually giving me a way out, either. I knew it was bullshit. I knew as soon as Trofim was dead and my plane landed, my father would be there to drag me back home and sell me to the highest bidder. But getting on that flight to Russia was my best chance at making a run for it. I had a new identity lined up; I just needed to get far enough away from my father to put my plan into action."

"You didn't have to kill Trofim." Mikhail narrows his eyes. "If all you wanted to do was escape, you could have taken the flight and ran."

I shake my head. "I know what happens when lineages get messy in our world. If Trofim took back power, he could have come looking for me. If he found me, he never would have let Dante live. Even if Trofim didn't get power back, he could have killed Dante out of spite." I drop my face into my hands and blow out a deep breath. "I struggled over what to do for days. I weighed the options back and forth, and I decided… The best way to keep Dante safe was to kill Trofim. So I went to Russia. I showed up at his house, and I?—"

"Manipulated him." Mikhail paces away from the bed. His body is tight. His hands ball into fists at his side. "The same way you're manipulating me."

"What?" I breathe. "No! I didn't?—"

"Raoul said they found a woman's hair clip in his bed." He snatches my golden claw clip off the nightstand and flings it at me. "I bet it looked a lot like this."

My eyes close to hold back the hot tears. "I didn't touch him, Mikhail. As soon as I got there, he was on top of me. He thought you'd sent me there to live in exile with him. He thought?—"

"He thought you were trustworthy," Mikhail hisses.

This isn't about Trofim. I know that. Mikhail knows who his older brother was. After what he did to Anatoly's mother—after what he would have done to me—there's no way he actually feels sympathetic for how his brother's life ended.

"Trofim practically herded me to his bedroom. He was drunk and muttering about finishing what we'd started. If I hadn't had the knife strapped to my thigh, I wouldn't have been able to fight him off. He would have?—"

"Enough!" Mikhail roars. "At least when I kill a man, I'm honest with myself about it. I have a good reason."

"Dante is a good reason!" I yell. "He's my only reason. And if you could forget about your wounded pride for half a fucking second, you'd see that!"

Mikhail's hand is around my neck in a heartbeat. He angles over me, pushing me back into the mattress. "If you think I'm going to let you manipulate me the way you do everyone else, you're very fucking wrong."

I can't breathe. Can't move. Mikhail is clenching my throat too tight. For the first time, I'm not sure he's going to let go.

Finally, just as black begins to creep into my vision, he throws me back on the bed. "You're my wife in name only. This arrangement between us exists only to protect Dante and ensure no one questions his parentage."

"Mikhail," I plead, "let me explain everything. Please, just?—"

"Give me a reason," he barks. "Why should I give you another second of my time?"

"Because you…" A few minutes ago, I thought I knew the truth. I thought Mikhail and I were both fighting back the same feelings. But looking into his cold face now, I'm not convinced Mikhail has any feelings. Still, I say it anyway, praying saying it out loud will make it true. "Because you love me."

He laughs—actually laughs. His face is twisted into a cruel mockery of a smile. "I don't love you, Viviana. I don't even fucking know you."

"You do know me! I've told you everything now. There are no more secrets. Please." I can't see him through a haze of fresh tears. "Mikhail, please let me explain. I didn't even?—"

"Dante is my responsibility now and I'm going to send him away. I'm going to keep him safe, from my enemies… and from you."

He turns towards the door. The tears run unchecked down my cheeks.

"Are you going to kill me?" I ask weakly.

I know how these things go. He might keep me around for a little while, but eventually, he'll get tired of me. If Mikhail really hates me as much as it seems like he does, I don't stand a chance.

His back stiffens. "I don't know yet."

Then Mikhail pulls my ruined door closed behind him as I drop to the floor and sob.