12. Alexei

ALEXEI

T he storm has long since gone.

The weeks have wound toward the holiday.

And I have not gone back to Novgorod.

How could I?

Everything that I have ever wanted, everything that I ever could want…

It is here.

I can’t believe that there was a time where I thought a wife would not add something to my life.

Clearly, I was a fool.

Because the days I have spent with Maggie, the nights we have cherished each other?

I have not felt such joy since…

Well.

Since I last spent a Christmas in Orlov House.

However, it is not just the fact that I am here for the holiday that makes it feel so.

It is the fact that I am here with her.

Everything Maggie touches turns into sunshine. Her laughter elevates the rooms, changing their fading paints and the dour faces of my ancestors into a tapestry of joy. The way she thinks of the world, the endless information she has to give me, it provides a wonderful background to whatever I do as we move around the house.

I have not taken a business meeting since I came to Orlov House. I may never take one again.

Truly, that is how marvelous my time with Maggie is.

We wake up and discover things in the home. We look behind curtains. We dig out boxes that Elena scolds us for getting into, then rolls her eyes as we look at them anyway.

I have never known more about my own home than I do right now, and I do not think that in my life, I would have ever wanted to know as much about this house as I do now.

But now, it does not just feel like my house.

It feels like our home.

And that makes all the difference.

Maggie has put my finances to good use. Every day, new packages and parcels appear at the front door. Some contain clothes, which I am happy to provide for her. Maggie has excellent taste, and I can already tell that she will start trends wherever she goes.

Some contain more delicate items. That I am more than happy to reveal.

Today, on the day before the holiday, I finally have a box that I am going to surprise her with.

I can’t wait to show it to her.

It does not slip my mind that I have not yet actually asked her to marry me. In all of this, Maggie has had no choice but to choose me.

I think that over the past few weeks, I have done a reasonably good job of helping her to choose me.

My vision now is to ensure that she does.

And, that she feels wonderous in doing so.

I have one last surprise up my sleeve before I give her the final present. I have contacted Koslov, her father, and have arranged for him and her mother to come and spend the actual day of Christmas with us. They will remain at Orlov House through the New Year, so that we Russians can fully celebrate our favorite holiday, and then they will return to the United States.

In an effort to make her happy, I wish to do this.

Her mother is ecstatic. It is also clear to me that her father has rediscovered some kind of connection with her, as I had them on the video call and I could see the glances he sent her way.

I’m not sure how to handle that, but I’m sure that Maggie and I will work it out upon their arrival.

I do not need her father’s permission to give Maggie the gift I wish to give her. I technically already have it, as we have been married for weeks now.

However, I know that it would matter to Maggie to have her mother here for the holiday.

And thus.

They will arrive.

The weather, for once, is cooperating. There will not even be a chance of snow to ruin the surprise that I have planned.

Everything, finally, is perfect.

Maggie follows me down the hallway to my mother’s room. This, too, is part of the plan.

But it is the part that I am most nervous about.

She lingers outside of the door.

I turn.

“Alexei,” she whispers, her eyes wide as she takes in the room. “Look, we don’t have to…”

“Please,” I murmur. “Come in.”

Meekly, she follows.

Inside, I gesture to the furniture, asking her to pull one side of the sheet on the covered item nearest to us. Slowly, we pull each one off, coughing as dust swirls through the air.

I pile the large canvas sheets in a corner, then look around the room.

My heart catches in my throat. It’s exactly as I left it.

Even her vanity still has her jewelry box out on it.

I walk nearer, my fingers itching to touch the necklaces in there. To smell the perfume bottle that still holds something of her scent.

I turn.

Maggie is looking at me. I can tell she wants to ask me questions, but I shake my head.

This, too, is something that I want to give her.

“My mother died when I was a teenager,” I declare. It’s the easiest way to say it, and while I know she is already aware, it’s still the easiest place to begin.

“I lived with her, here, in Orlov House. My father lived here too, but he was often away on business. Our time at Orlov House was… fun. Elena was here, as was much of the rest of the staff. The village, the house, the grounds… they were my playground,” I murmur.

Maggie nods, her lips tilting into a smile. “You really were a little prince.”

I snort. “In the sense that I was spoiled, yes. My mother was a good mother, she ensured that I had a bit of humility. However, it was awfully hard for the staff to not treat me like I was a prince. Which made me into somewhat of a tyrant, I warrant,” I laugh.

She shakes her head. “I’m certain you were just an average kid, Alexei.”

“You’ll have to ask Elena, but I highly doubt it,” I mutter.

Maggie rolls her eyes, but I pull her close, tugging her down onto one of the comfortable couches. I swear, I can still smell my mother on the fabric, and it makes my chest ache.

This next part of the story is far less pleasant.

“I didn’t know she was sick until the doctors came and told me that there wouldn’t be another Christmas for her,” I whisper.

Maggie goes very, very still.

“My father wasn’t here. It was just me and her. I don’t know if the doctor thought through his proclamation, but as soon as he walked away, he told me that my mother’s illness would be fatal. He told me to send for my father.”

“Alexei…”

“I did,” I grit. “I asked for him immediately.”

“What happened then?”

“He came. We sat with her until she passed. It was a terrible time, because I had relatives come to pay their respects and they treated it like it was almost… a reunion. Orlov House was full, and the sounds of chatter and laughter were the background to my mother’s death,” I whisper.

“Oh, Alexei,” Maggie says.

I shake my head. “When she died, my father asked me what I wanted to do with Orlov House. I told him nothing. At the time, I wanted to see the whole thing off. I wanted it all to disappear.”

“But you didn’t let it.”

I shake my head. “No. I went to live with my father in Moscow. He passed recently as well, but it was not the same as when mother died. We, he and I both, were not the same after she died.”

Maggie takes my hand.

I marvel at her fingers, the fine bones of her wrist and the flow of them into her small arm. I tug her close, tucking her head against my shoulder.

“Orlov House has always been the last place that I saw my mother. Until now, I had only remembered the pain. The loss, the way that I lost not just her, but my entire childhood as well,” I whisper.

Maggie doesn’t say anything. She listens, patiently, and I take a deep breath.

“I have never wanted to lose Orlov House. But I have also avoided it. I don’t come home for holidays. I don’t spend New Year here. I try to talk to Elena, but I don’t see her, because I don’t come back here,” I whisper. “I knew I needed a wife to maintain the house, but I refused to actually find a wife. Because if I found a wife, then I would need to face the house as well.”

“I kind of figured that’s why you wanted to leave,” Maggie smiles.

I pull her close. “You are too smart, my Maggie.”

“I’m just smart enough, and I also know a lot about how people avoid their problems.”

I laugh.

“Maggie. Magdalena. You have shown me that I cut myself off from the memories of Orlov House, but in the process, I did too much. I cut off the memories of my happiness with my mother as well. Being here with you has reminded me that I am more than just the man my father made me. I am also the man my mother made me. You reminded me of this, and that is the greatest gift anyone could have ever given.”

She pulls back, a smile curling across her lips. “I love that, Alexei.”

“And I l?—”

I’m not able to finish the sentence.

Maggie’s eyes flash with a panic and she quickly moves in, her lips bruising mine. For a second, I’m startled. I wanted to confess how I feel, and it seems almost like she guessed that.

It seems like she suspected what I was about to say, and then decided that she didn’t want to hear it.

But that can’t be the case.

I return Maggie’s kiss. It grows heated, and my mind blanks. I pull her on top of me, letting her sweet, tight body straddle mine as our kisses grow fervent. My hands race over her skin, and her lips caress mine. Soon, I don’t remember what I was going to say.

All I want to do is show her how I feel. Show her the depths of my heart.

There will be time enough for us to talk. I have a lifetime, after all, to show Maggie how much she means to me.

As we sink into each other, my doubts are soothed.

Maggie is mine.

And she will be ready to hear that.

Eventually.

Later, when we are tucked into the luxurious bed in my room, a fire crackling at our feet, my doubt returns.

Why did Maggie cut me off?

I am easily distracted, it would seem, but Maggie is not… duplicitous. We have always promised to be honest with each other. It’s one of the foundations of our tentative, if happy, relationship.

So why did she keep my truth from coming out?

I want to wake her, but I know that would not be the best solution. She’s sleeping peacefully at that, and I cannot worry about such matters.

Maggie feels for me as much as I feel for her. I know it.

There’s no other reason why she would treat me so well. We’ve spent the past few weeks wrapped in each other’s arms, a haze of cookies and treats and holiday cheer that’s so thick, now I’m wondering if it was just a fog.

Just something that made me miss the signs of what was really going on with her.

The urge to look at her phone, to see what she’s telling her mother, flashes over me. That would be a violation of her privacy, and I clench my fists instead.

Besides, her mother would not have agreed to come and visit if she was concerned for her daughter’s feelings or safety.

At least, I don’t think she would have.

The doubts compel me to stand. I walk to the window, looking out. The darkness around Orlov House is intense. Aside from the decorative lighting on the walls of the ancient manor house, there is no additional light until you reach the village, and then barely anything until Novgorod, which is a long enough drive that you really can’t see the lights leading that direction.

Most of the time, I find the solitude completely unremarkable.

Today, however, it makes me itch.

Will Maggie be willing to accept this? Will she be able to accept the life that I have to offer her? I am rich. I am powerful.

But she has no need for wealth or power. Maggie has something that many of us spend our whole life trying to find money and power to fill.

She has happiness.

Joy.

She has the ability to make both of those things wherever she goes, because she is not desperately scraping at the wounds of her childhood, trying to glue them together as an adult.

Does she really feel for me as I do for her?

I’m deeply enmeshed in musing when my phone lights up. I tiptoe over to it, grabbing it, and I raise it to my face.

Anatoly: Boss. It’s been about an hour, and there’s no sign of your in-laws.

A chill skates down my spine.

Me: What do the officers say?

Anatoly: They won’t tell me.

Fuck.

A dozen scenarios, each one of them worse than the next, crash over me. It’s highly possible that Kozlov’s enemies have finally found him.

Which would mean that our perfect Christmas would not be so perfect after all.

In fact.

It would be ruined.

And since I want it to be perfect, that will not do.

With one last look at a sleeping Maggie, I turn to dress.

She needs me to protect her. To protect her family.

It’s time to be the bigger monster.