13. Mikhail

Viviana is steady on her feet as she climbs out of the hospital bed. The fluids are gone and Dr. Hamilton cleared her to be released, but I hover close by just in case.

The trash can is overflowing with the wadded-up remains of her would-be wedding dress. Viviana stares down at it, one hand holding her hospital gown closed behind her.

"Are the hospital gowns complimentary?" she contemplates, worrying at her lower lip with her teeth. "Because if not, I'd rather walk out of here butt naked than put that dress on again."

I'm tempted to tell her that stealing the gowns comes with a mandatory life sentence for that very reason. I still haven't recovered from the image of her topless, standing in a puddle of her shredded wedding dress. She's been through a lot and I'm more than capable of controlling myself… but fuck me.

I grab my button-down from the end of the bed and toss it to her. It's the same one I draped over her shoulders back at the safehouse. "It's bloodstained, but?—"

"I accept." She angles away from me to slide the hospital gown off and pull on my shirt instead. It's not like I haven't seen—and tasted—every inch of her before, but I don't begrudge her her privacy. She tugs the shirt cuffs over the bulky bandages on her wrists.

When she turns back to me, she's still doing up the last couple buttons. My shirt drapes around the tops of her thighs. If she was an inch or two shorter, it would almost be long enough to pass as a dress. As it is, she looks like the poster child for a walk of shame.

In a way, that's what this is. My shame walk.

The only reason we're here is because I fucked up. I never should have made her leave the mansion. I never should have let Trofim find her.

None of this should have happened—and I'm going to spend every second proving to Viviana that I won't let it happen again.

She finishes buttoning her shirt but continues playing with the seams. Finally, she crosses her arms nervously over her chest. "I don't really know how to bring this up, but I left all of my stuff at that hotel room. Trofim grabbed me and I didn't… I couldn't grab everything. So all of the money you gave me is gone."

"I'm sure the night manager took the cash. But fuck it. I don't give a shit about a few thousand dollars, Viviana."

"Right. Yeah. But, I do." Her eyes are pale green under the fluorescents. "That money is all I had. I haven't been to work in weeks and I don't even have my wallet to use my credit cards. I can't afford a motel tonight without that money."

"A motel?" I reach towards her, but freeze when she flinches back. I shove my hands in my pockets instead. "You aren't staying in a motel, Viviana. You're coming home."

"To the mansion?"

Where else would home be?I want to ask.

"Yes."

Her eyes shimmer with tears. "Am I going to see Dante?"

"Of course you're going to see Dante. Why wouldn't you?" I say. "I'm not going to save you and then turn around and lock you up again."

It sounds ridiculous to me. I just told her that I made a mistake. I confessed that I needed to get her back. What more does she want from me?

But the relief on her face says it all. She still wasn't sure.

"Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," I grumble. "You're my wife. It's your house, too."

Five minutes after we pull away from the hospital, I look over and Viviana is asleep. One leg is curled underneath her and her cheek is pillowed on her arm.

She must trust me a little bit to fall asleep while I'm driving.

Or she's too exhausted to worry about self-preservation.

After everything she's been through, she has every right to be wary. I just never thought I'd look into her eyes and see fear directed at me. I'm used to it from other people, but never her.

Anatoly and Dante are waiting on the front porch when I pull down the drive. Anatoly has to hold Dante back so I can bring the car to a full stop.

Like some kind of motherly spidey-sense, Viviana's eyes snap open the moment I shift into park. She jolts up, looking around, panicked. Then she sees Dante.

"Oh my God."

She tears out of the car, leaving the passenger door hanging open. The second she drops to her knees, Dante crashes into her arms.

"I think you got bigger," Viviana manages through tears. She strokes his hair and cradles his chin. "It's almost like you aged a whole year while I was gone."

"Because I'm six now," Dante says proudly before pulling her in for another hug.

Viviana kisses his cheek and crushes him to her. "I'm sorry I missed your birthday, buddy."

Eventually, she scoops him up and carries Dante towards the house. Her arms shake and her legs are wobbly, but it's like she's afraid she'll lose him again if she puts him down.

I trail behind them, an outsider to their reunion. I'm just as responsible as Trofim for all of this.

By the time Viviana carries Dante inside, her face is pale. He's in her ear moving seamlessly from talking about the movie he watched last night to the game he played with Anatoly this morning with no signs of slowing down. As much as I know Viviana wants to be with him, I also know she needs to rest.

I pat Dante's hair. "It's time for you to head to school."

He ducks away from me and squeezes Viviana tighter. He lays his head on her shoulder. "I don't want to go today. I want to talk to Mama." He looks up at her, his puppy-dog eyes lethal. "Can I skip school today, Mama?"

She kisses his forehead. "Your dad is right. You should go to school. I need to go lie down for a little while. I'm tired."

"I'll sleep, too!" he chimes. "I'm tired."

Viviana tickles his side and laughs. "Liar. Every time we try to take a nap together, you end up burrowing under the blankets like a mole or kicking me in the back until I get up. You hate nap time."

He smirks guiltily. After a few more clumsy attempts at persuasion, he lets Anatoly lead him to the makeshift schoolroom we've set up in the formal dining room.

As soon as Dante is out of sight, Viviana leans against the wall. "Thanks."

"You looked like you needed a break."

"I missed him so much. Was he okay while I was…?" She doesn't try to finish that sentence.

Exiled? Kidnapped? Imprisoned?

How do I tell her that she can't go into Dante's room until I get a chance to replace his bedside table and half of the clothes in his closet because he shredded through them like a wild animal? I should have been there for him, but I was too lost in my own haze of missing her.

That's what it was, wasn't it? I missed her?

There isn't any good way to tell her any of that. Instead, I say, "He's happy you're back."

Viviana is suspicious, but she's too tired to push it. She's almost too tired to stand up. She makes it up two steps before her knuckles are white on the handrail and she's breathing heavily.

"I can help you."

Viviana waves me away. "That's okay. I just need a second to catch my breath."

But I slide a hand under her knees and one arm around her back. I scoop her up easily and carry her up the stairs.

"Or you can carry me," she mutters, annoyed. That doesn't stop her from leaning into my chest.

She gives me all of her weight and I don't want to put her down at the top of the stairs. I carry her all the way down the hallway.

As we pass her room, Viviana starts to say something, but I shake my head. "You're staying in my room."

She'll be more comfortable there, I tell myself. This isn't because I need her in my bed.

Then I walk her through my bedroom door and all I can think about is closing the door, locking it, and never letting either of us out again. It'll be easy to take care of her in here.

I let go of her reluctantly, lowering her to the edge of the bed. My hands linger on the warm skin behind her knees and the curve of her waist.

"I would be fine in my room," she mumbles, even as she curls her legs underneath her and slides her feet under my sheets.

She's here. Home.

For the first time in days, there's no buzzing under my skin. That circuit inside of me is closed, complete. The ache to follow her onto the bed and spread her across the mattress is deep and unrelenting.

"I don't want you to be fine, Viviana." I spin around and grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt out of my dresser before I can do something stupid. "I want you to be perfect."

"According to Dr. Hamilton, I already am." Her mouth is turned into a small smile, but it's thin. She's watching me closely.

"You can wear these." I hand her the clothes. "If you want to take a bath first, I can help you?—"

"I'm fine," she says far too quickly. Viviana clutches my clothes to her chest like she's already naked and trying to shield herself.

"If you get in the tub, I want to be there. I'm not going to let you drown."

"I've taken plenty of baths by myself. I'm not going to drown. I can take care of myself."

"But you don't have to." It all comes out more intensely than I mean it to, so I blow out a breath and try to smooth things over. "I'm here. We're both here now. I can help you."

"I'm here for Dante." She chews on the corner of her mouth. "I just—I can't jump back into the way things were before, Mikhail."

"This isn't like things were before. Before, you were locked in your bedroom. That's why I brought you to my room. There's still a chain on your door and no one has been in to clean it since Stella—I didn't want to put you back in there."

As far as arguments go, this point might go to Viviana. Mentioning the lock I had installed on her bedroom door probably won't work in my favor.

The purple circles under her eyes look even darker in the dim light of my bedroom. She's exhausted and we shouldn't be having this conversation now. I know that. I should wait.

I grind my teeth together. "I want things to be different. We lied and we fucked each other over. But we're done with that now."

"We both want to be done with it, but I'm not sure if we know how." She sighs and tightens her arms around herself. "It's been a long couple days. I need some time to sleep. We both need time to think."

I don't need to think about any of this,I roar inside my head. I know what I want.

"Take all the time you need," I tell her coldly. "But just know: if you choose to leave, Dante is staying with me."

Before the hurt can settle fully on her face, I turn and leave.