Chapter 45

Chapter

Forty-Five

"You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams."

― Dr. Seuss

Sofiya

"You did WHAT?"

Jade's eyes widened in disbelief, and I could practically see the question marks floating above her head as she processed what I had just revealed.

I sighed. "I ran away."

"You… ran away ?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay, wait a minute. Let me make sure I've got this straight: The man you're in love with goes all out, showering you with petals from your favorite flowers, crafting a love letter that could make Shakespeare jealous, hiring an orchestra to serenade you with your favorite song and topping it all off with a ring that's probably worth more than my apartment– and your response is to vanish into thin air?"

Okay, when she put it like that, it did sound pretty ridiculous.

But in the heat of the moment, panic got the best of me.

"Yeah, I know, it sounds crazy," I sighed, shaking my head in frustration.

She burst into laughter, saying, "Oh my goodness, you never fail to amaze me. They should give you an award for ‘Most Unexpected Reaction to an Epic Proposal'."

"Ugh, I know, Jade," I groaned. "I just… panicked."

I've spent months trying to shake off this empty feeling that swooped in when he asked me to leave Russia.

Just when I thought I was finally settling into a routine that felt like normal life, he re-entered the scene like a wrecking ball, ready to destroy everything I'd pieced together.

It's like the universe has a vendetta against my peace of mind.

When Mikha?l dropped to one knee, that radiant diamond practically blinding me, his gaze a mix of love and determination, his words lingered like a sweet melody in the air — it was all too much.

Without a second thought, I bolted, not even looking back; tears streamed down my face, and sobs escaped my lips.

He didn't try to stop me, and he didn't follow me.

He just let me go.

I found myself dialing Jade's number in a frantic plea, practically begging her not to go to the spa and asking if I could crash at her place for the night .

And that's how I ended up sprawled on her couch, clutching a pillow for dear life, my cup of vanilla apple tea gone cold on the coffee table. Jade, curled up in her armchair, wore a smile that was part shock, part amusement, like she was caught in a sitcom moment.

"Do you love him?"

I sighed, my throat tight. "It's not that simple."

"I get it, babe," she replied. "But no matter the mess, do you still love him?"

Of course I love him, I admitted to myself, my thoughts racing like a hundred wild horses.

But it's not as simple as that, is it?

It's about timing, about where we both stand in our lives, about the mess we've found ourselves in.

The feelings are undeniable, as potent as ever, but they're entangled in a maze of uncertainty and confusion.

Can love really fix this mess?

Can it break down the walls we've built and crush our fears?

And what about me? Do I have the guts to face what loving him truly means?

As Jade's gaze met mine, her patience was palpable, her question suspended in the air like a lifeline.

This isn't your typical love story, that's for sure.

Mikha?l's been both a hurricane and an anchor in my life – kidnapping me, putting me through humiliation, even taking lives right in front of my eyes.

And don't even get me started on the long-standing resentment that's festered between us, a brew of bitterness and anger.

But on the flip side, there's more to the story.

He's been my savior, my protector in the midst of chaos.

His rough hands have soothed my pain, his words have caress ed my heart, and his eyes have whispered reassurance in my darkest moments.

So, where does all of this leave me?

Can the softer moments outweigh the nightmares?

Is it possible for a bond that was born amidst turbulence to somehow morph into something resembling normal, healthy love?

As I held Jade's gaze, a realization dawned upon me.

Regardless of the tempests we've weathered, beyond all reason, there's an undeniable part of me that loves him – both the darkness and the light.

"I do," I whispered, my eyes shuttering closed, a single tear tracing its path down my cheek as I clung tighter to the pillow. "I love him."

"But?"

"But I'm terrified. Terrified that if I let go and fall into his arms, it's like handing over the reins of my life – the good, the bad, and the downright ugly – as if all our problems would be swept under the rug. I'm haunted by the fear that this might be a fleeting chapter, that he could outgrow me, come to the conclusion that he's better off with the kind of women he's used to."

I paused, inhaling deeply to steady my quivering voice, a soft sob escaping my lips. "And the truth is, I'm scared of being loved. To have someone look at me, genuinely love everything they see, to value me, appreciate me – it's petrifying. I'm haunted by the thought that he'll peel away the layers and discover that I'm not as wonderful as he thinks. But my biggest fear, Jade, is becoming addicted to his love, and then having it taken away, shattering everything."

As the words hung in the air, I let out a shaky breath, as if releasing the weight of my worries to the universe .

Jade rose from her armchair and crossed the room to the couch.

She settled herself behind me and then, with a gentle sigh, she spooned me, holding me close.

"It's alright to feel scared," her voice was a soft whisper in my ear. "Love doesn't erase our fears; it helps us confront them, step by step. And you, my dear, are far stronger than you give yourself credit for."

I took a soft breath and then asked, "Have you ever been in love?"

"Yes."

"What was it like?"

"It was like a slow-motion heartbreak. He never loved me in return, but he took everything I had to give until I would've given him my life," she let out a bitter chuckle. "But my situation was different. Volk loves you, and he loved you enough to let you go because he wanted your happiness. In my case, I was just used over and over again and then tossed aside like a dirty sock."

Hearing her words, I felt a pang of sadness.

"I'm sorry you went through that," I said gently. "You deserved so much more."

"Thank you," she whispered. "You deserve all the happiness too. Don't let fear stop you from embracing it."

The apartment's doorbell rang, abruptly interrupting our conversation.

We got up from the couch simultaneously.

Jade stepped to the door, her bare feet moving her forward, long hair swaying. She was in a casual outfit for once – white linen shorts hugging her curves and a white sports bra showcasing her cleavage.

As she opened the door, we were met with an unexpected sight: Mikha?l and An gelo.

Jade's eyes widened in surprise, and my heart skipped a beat.

Mikha?l's eyes found mine instantly, and he gave me a gentle smile that warmed my heart.

"Hello, Miss Whitenhouse," Angelo said, his eyes scanning Jade from head to toe, his jaw ticking slightly.

He glanced at me briefly before turning his attention back to her.

Jade moved to close the door, but Angelo was quick, pushing it open and stepping inside without hesitation.

"You are indeed an exasperating woman, Miss Whitenhouse, even outside the office," Angelo said, rolling his eyes.

"Says the most infuriating man I've ever met," Jade shot back, crossing her arms. "How do you know where I live?"

I stayed silent, feeling Mikh?l's eyes on me.

"I came here to ask a favor. I'm heading to Australia and coincidentally ran into Mr. Volkov," Angelo explained. "Are you available?"

A trip to Australia? That's news to me.

Angelo hadn't mentioned anything about leaving the country.

"No-"

"Yes, she is. I was just leaving," I cut in, interrupting Jade.

I set my cup of cold tea in the sink and slipped on my black Doc Martens, avoiding everyone's eyes.

"Are you sure?" Jade asked, concern in her voice. "You can stay here tonight. We could have a sleepover and watch Magic Mike! I haven't seen that movie in ages, and it might be just what we need."

I raised my head, my eyes as wide as lemons, and my cheeks red.

"I'm…"

"Magic Mike?" Mikha?l's voice cut in.

"Yeah, male strippers who look like Greek gods," Jade said with a chuckle, fanning her face. "You men could learn a thing or two; the world would be much better if…"

Feeling embarrassed, I quickly finished lacing my shoes, grabbed my leather jacket, and pulled a hair tie from my pocket to put my hair in a high ponytail.

"I'm good, Jade. I'll text you later."

I offered Angelo a strained smile before heading towards the door, but Mikha?l stood in my way, blocking the path.

My gaze lowered to his chest, then lifted slowly, tracing the line of his neck where his necklace rested. An impulse to reach out and touch it, to draw him closer, flickered briefly. I continued upwards, meeting his lips and his dark eyes patiently waiting for mine.

"I'll drop you off."

My heart skipped a beat.

There was an unspoken understanding in the charged atmosphere.

It felt like his eyes forgave me for running away earlier.

I managed a nod, a hesitant smile tugging at my lips. "Sure, that would be nice."

He stepped aside, gesturing for me to proceed.

I turned, waving goodbye to Jade.

"I stand by what I said," Jade's voice echoed from across the room. "We can even go to a real Magic Mike show; there's one in Brooklyn every?—"

Mikha?l shut the door with a solid thud, cutting her off.

Suppressing a laugh, I pressed my lips together.

Men and their egos.

?

The ride to my apartment was silent, New York traffic wrapping around us like a blanket.

I leaned my head against the window, using my hair as a shield, and closed my eyes, listening to his steady, deep breaths.

Then it hit me: I could have him by my side every day, waking up next to him, sharing my space whenever I wanted. I'd convinced myself I feared getting addicted to him, but I already was.

There was no turning back now, and that was terrifying.

The sky looked dark and blurry, making me want to crawl into bed and sleep the day away.

Watching Magic Mike to distract myself didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

"We're here."

I opened my eyes, stretched, and reached for my bag.

I glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

His jaw ticked, and his hair was slightly messy. I couldn't resist smoothing it back behind his ear.

At my touch, his body tensed.

He sighed deeply, then opened his door and walked around to my side, opening it for me. He extended his hand to help me out.

"Thanks," I said, taking his hand.

He closed the door and leaned in close, his hands on either side of my head against the car.

He brought his lips to my ear, and I closed my eyes.

He kissed the curve of my neck gently.

"I am thirsty," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.

I felt a surge of hesitation, unsure about inviting him in, yet I didn't want him to leave just yet .

"Would you like to come inside?" I asked, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

He nodded, and I led the way.

"Where's Dasha?" Mikha?l asked.

Dasha had been working at a flower shop for a few weeks now. I had urged her to find a job to bring some normalcy back into her life. I'm thrilled to see that she has even made a couple of friends there.

"She's in Boston for the weekend with a friend."

Mikha?l hummed.

My apartment was on the third floor, and the elevator was always out of order.

Climbing the stairs felt like running a marathon, a constant reminder that I needed to exercise more.

When we reached my floor, I glanced back at him. He looked completely fine, while I was almost out of breath.

"Sorry about the mess," I said, opening the door and motioning for him to enter.

He stepped inside, a faint grin on his lips.

"Still a bit messy, huh?" he teased, his eyes dancing mischievously around my apartment

I chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah, sadly but it's a work in progress. Unpacked boxes are my new décor style, apparently. I guess I haven't fully settled in yet."

He walked into the living room and picked up a red bra from the couch, holding it between two fingers with an amused eyebrow raised.

I gasped and quickly kicked off my shoes, walked over, took the bra from his hand, and tossed it into my bedroom before closing the door.

So embarrassing.

I moved around the kitchen, searching for a clean cup, aware of his eyes on me .

"Black coffee?" I asked, my voice slightly breathy.

" Da , dorogaya ."

A swarm of butterflies erupted in my stomach.

I instinctively turned around to hide the fiery blush spreading across my cheeks and neck.

I love when he calls me that, and I'm sure he knows just how much.

I quickly set about making his coffee, relieved to have something to focus on besides him moving around my living room. I could hear him picking things up, examining them, and occasionally chuckling at whatever he found. It was oddly endearing and distracting all at once.

"Why didn't you fully settle in?"

I brought his cup over, intentionally avoiding his eyes, and settled onto the couch.

Crossing my legs, I adjusted my miniskirt to make sure it didn't ride up too high.

I hesitated for a moment, nervously tracing the rim of my glass of water.

Why?

Because a small, shameful part of me still hoped he'd come back for me. And now, sitting across from him, reality hit me.

He was actually here, not just a dream or a distant memory, but right in my living room.

The fact that he had proposed felt like something out of a movie—an unexpected twist that left me both thrilled and… lost.

"I don't know," I shrugged, my eyes sweeping around the room as if searching for an escape from the truth. "I know Alexsei was kind enough to give me this apartment, and I'm extremely grateful, but it just doesn't feel like home."

He hummed in response, taking a sip of his coffee .

The silence that followed made me uneasy.

I've always found silence weird and unsettling.

Sitting quietly next to someone else spikes my anxiety; it feels like an awkward void I need to fill.

"I'm sorry about today. I panicked and I—" I started, my voice trailing off.

"I will never force you to marry me, Sofiya. I'm not an asshole."

I bit my lip, feeling embarrassed. "This must've cost you a lot of money. I'll repay you, I promise."

The thought of repaying him weighed heavily on my mind; it might take me decades, especially considering it probably exceeded my annual salary.

"Keep your money," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes holding mine.

Gosh, he's so beautiful.

"I guess I'll go," he continued, placing his empty cup on my coffee table and rising from his seat.

Suddenly, something inside me snapped.

Panic surged, and I moved quickly, nearly spilling my tea.

I hurried over to him and wrapped my arms around him from behind, resting my forehead against his back, my hands tightening around his waist. His body felt solid and strong, like a living sculpture.

He stiffened for a moment, caught off guard.

Then, his tension melted away, and he relaxed into my hold.

I could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he took a deep breath.

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

What was there to say, anyway?

He could already feel how my heart was racing for him, how my mind was consumed by thoughts of him only .

He placed his hand over mine, gently trying to loosen my grip.

I held on tighter, my silent tears tracing down my cheeks.

"I don't want you to go," I whispered, barely audible.

"Yes, you do."

I shook my head, still holding onto him. "I don't."

His patience seemed to waver, and I felt tension building in his body.

"When a woman turns down a man's proposal, it's usually a pretty fucking clear signal that she wants him to back the fuck off," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "So let me go."

A sob escaped my lips.

Behind his stern words, I sensed a hint of insecurity too. Despite his outward facade of being unfazed, I knew deep down that my actions had hurt him more than I had initially realized.

"I just panicked," I managed to choke out.

With a firm hand, he untangled my hands from his waist and turned around, his eyes stormy. "Don't play games with me."

"I am not."

He stepped closer, his nose almost touching mine. "I've set aside my pride for you, but I won't do it again. So watch what you say, Sofiya."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to… I didn't want to hurt you."

"Then let me go," he snapped, frustration flushing his cheeks. "Holding onto me like this is driving me crazy."

"I can't," I replied softly.

I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling his heart race beneath my touch.

"Why? "

I shook my head, rising on my toes to kiss him, but he turned his head.

Undeterred, I kissed his cheek, then traced down his neck with a slow lick and a gentle bite.

He groaned softly, gripping my hair firmly. "Why, Sofiya?"

I bit my lip, afraid to say the three words I wanted to say.

" Ty svodish' menya s uma. You drive me crazy," he muttered, releasing his grip on my hair.

Our eyes locked, my heart pounding in my chest.

The truth sat on the tip of my tongue, but fear kept me silent.

How could I articulate the jumble of emotions he had unleashed in me?

How could I convey that his presence had completely upended my life?

It was all so tangled and difficult to put into words.

I let out a shaky breath. "Ask me again."

He scoffed, clearly frustrated.

Running a hand through his hair, he paced away from me towards the terrace window. He swung it open, stepping outside and leaning on the railing with his head bowed.

A part of me feared I had pushed him too far this time. Minutes dragged on like hours as I sat down on my couch, staring at his back.

Summoning courage, I finally joined him on the terrace, where the New York night lights glowed around us.

"Volk, I?—"

"Call me Volk again "and I'll make sure to fuck you so hard right here so that every damn person in this shitty city will know my real name."

He pivoted towards me, his biceps taut as his arms crosse d over his chest, his eyes locked onto mine with a daring challenge.

The tension between us was thick, suffocating, and I could feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

"I dare you," he added.

I swallowed hard, my chest tight.

I knew I wasn't that brave.

"I'm the product of an innocent baby's death and the schemes of three evil people. How can you just overlook all of that? What if I end up like my mother and do those terrible things? What if?—"

"You're nothing like Victoria or Elena."

"Maybe not now, but who knows," I shrugged, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Maybe their evilness is in my DNA, lying dormant and waiting to come to life. Maybe I'm just inherently messed up, like they were. I know it might not make sense, but I need you to understand how scared I am."

"Sofiya, I know you in ways you don't even fucking realize. You're nothing like them."

"Igor died because of me," I managed to say, my voice catching as tears welled up. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the unbearable weight of my words hanging between us. "He was like a father to you, and he was shot because of me, because of my existence." I wrapped my arms around myself, overcome with guilt. "You should hate me, or at least want to kill me for what happened."

A few seconds passed, and the honking of a few cars down the street cleared the fog of my emotions.

"It wasn't your fault," he whispered.

I shook my head.

Deep down, we both know it's the truth.

If it weren't for me, the only father figure and family he had on this earth wouldn't have been taken away. My presen ce in his life has brought so much pain that I can't comprehend why he still wants me.

"I'm just so scared, Mikha?l," I finally admitted, my voice barely audible.

He let out a frustrated laugh and turned his back to me again. "Scared of me?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice carrying a raw honesty I hadn't intended to reveal.

"Why?"

"I'm… I'm scared of what you might do to me once you realize I could just be a passing phase," I continued, feeling vulnerable. "I'm afraid you'll abandon me once your feelings for me fade."

"Is that what you think of me?" he snapped, his voice sharp.

I felt a pang of guilt at his words, realizing how much they must have hurt him.

But I couldn't back down now, not after opening up like this.

"It's not about what I think of you," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "It's about my own fears."

"What about mine?" he retorted. "You think I don't have my own fucking doubts?"

I swallowed, suddenly aware of the complex emotions swirling in his eyes.

Maybe I had been too quick to judge, too quick to assume that I was the only one feeling vulnerable.

"I'm afraid of losing you too, Sofiya."

He turned toward me, jaw tight, frustration burning in his eyes.

I felt a lump in my throat as I thought about what he said, how we might be more alike than I wanted to admit.

"I just… I don't know how to do this, Mikha?l ."

He closed the space between us, gently cupping my cheek.

"Let me handle it. All you have to do is trust me."

He made it sound so simple, but maybe that's what love is—taking a leap of faith despite the doubts.

" Ya tebya lyublyu, I love you, " he whispered against my lips. "I love you so much that every thought I have, everything I do, and every breath I take revolves around you." His hand fell to his side. "But I won't let you mess with me."

I nodded slowly, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my face into the curve of his neck. As his familiar scent enveloped me, butterflies danced in my stomach.

It felt like home .

He's my home.

"Ask me again," I whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "Please."

He studied my face.

I stepped back, giving him a bit of space.

He waited a moment, then slowly dropped to one knee.

From his pocket, he pulled out the small, velvety Tiffany box and opened it, revealing a stunning solitaire with micro-pavé diamonds on a delicate platinum band.

He looked up at me.

"I want to spend every breath I have left next to you. I want to wake up every day feeling blessed to have you by my side. I want to know all your secrets, fantasies, and dreams, and make them come true. Most of all, I want the honor of having your heart beside mine."

He then took the ring out of the box, a smile spreading on his face.

"Sofiya, will you marry me?"

Tears filled my eyes, and I couldn't help but smile down at him .

I dropped to my knees, cupping his face in my hands.

"Yes," I whispered. Leaning in, I kissed him. "A million times yes!"

" Moya lyubov, My love," he chuckled, lifting me into his arms and spinning me around. "You just made me the happiest man on the planet."

We laughed together, the joy of the moment overwhelming.

I held onto him, feeling both light as a feather and completely grounded in his arms.

"Make love to me now, fiancé ," I said, my laughter trailing off as he carried me into my bedroom.