"But if we end Orlov—our largest competition, Belova will be helpless. He will scramble for aid, and no one will come running. And if Marina is free from Orlov's influence, she will likely turn right to my arms and come to me. And her father will have no choice but to support her." My pulse is racing, my palms sweaty. If he disregards my plea, I don't know what I'll do.
His eyes search me and darken as they see how desperate I am. I can't hide it. I refuse to let her slip into the hands of a man who will treat her poorly. The obsession hit me so hard and so fast, I couldn't do anything about it, and now I’m consumed. I must have her.
Roman purses his lips and his nostrils flare, then he shakes his head and turns to look out the dark window. "Give it six weeks… You wait until it's the only option left. Do you understand me?" When his steel gaze meets mine again, I know he's serious."If killing Orlov is the only way to end this alliance, we'll make it look internal. We can't get wrapped up in a murder investigation, by his men or the authorities."
I am already rising, ready to move to the door and go to the spot I told Marina to meet me, still hours early. His answer has given me hope.
"I understand."
"And if this goes sideways, it's on you. I'll wash my hands of it, Stepan."
"Yes, sir," I grunt, moving toward the door.
I have Roman's consent to kill Maksim Orlov if need be, and something about that makes me feel giddy. Whether she likes it or not, she's mine. And I'm not going to tell her my plan, but I'm going to try to make myself as irresistible as possible.
15
MARINA
Ayawn breaks through the lethargy I feel as I skulk toward the place Stepan asked me to meet him. Of course I want him in my life. I just have no clue what that can even look like. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I don't want to lose him, but I don't know what shape this situationship will take when that wedding happens and I'm married. There's no way Maksim will let me keep Stepan around.
My gut roils as I turn the corner and see his car. I have a family duty to uphold. Marrying Maksim isn't my choice, and I don't think Stepan can see that. I shouldn't be out here climbing into his car to sneak off and have sex with him. I shouldn't even be messaging him. But the pull I feel is so strong toward him, I can't stop it. Every time I think I could just stop messaging him and pull away, I get so depressed, I feel like I can't get out of bed.
Elira hasn’t been much help either, so I haven't messaged her at all in two days, since the second time she told me to just sleep with Maksim and make him think the baby is his. I feel trapped. Being with the person I want to be with isn't an option, but this baby makes my future look darker than a midnight hurricane.And the thought of sleeping with Maksim at all makes me want to vomit.
I open the door and slide into his passenger seat, into the cloud of his cologne that usually makes me swoon. Tonight, it makes my belly feel a bit sick. Not that it's a bad scent, but it's a little strong, and morning sickness apparently doesn't just happen in the morning.
"I wondered if you were coming," Stepan says quietly. I glance at the clock and see it's seven past the hour. I'm usually on time everywhere I go, so that seven-minute delay is proof of how exhausted I am while growing a tiny human in my womb.
"I'm sorry. It's been a rough day." I shut the door and click my seatbelt into place and he takes off down the dark street. The nervous energy I normally feel around him is absent tonight, replaced by sadness that I am having his baby and I can't tell him. That, and fear that Maksim will discover what's going on and end the arrangement, thus angering my father. I don't know what I'd do if that happened.
"You need to talk about it?" he asks, taking my hand and lacing his fingers through mine. My first thought should be how sweet he is for asking. Instead, I can only think about how Maksim's response would've been to send me out of his presence under the guise of caring about me, sending me to rest, but in reality, he simply wouldn't want to be around a mope.
"No, thank you." I force a half smile and turn, looking at the reflection of his dash lights on the side window. He drives out of my neighborhood onto a main road, but I remain quietly locked inside my own thoughts where I battle to keep control.
Breaking down and telling him about the baby isn't a good idea, no matter how much I want to. He could be sympathetic or offer potential solutions, or he could get possessive and insist I end things with Maksim. Either way, it ends in pain for both of us because I'm very certain that we want the same thing—to be together. It's just never going to happen as long as Maksim Orlov is alive, and I'm no killer.
"Are you hungry? We could get some fast food before we go to my place..." His thumb carefully strums the back of my knuckles, but I sigh and shake my head.
"Not hungry, just tired."
He's trying so hard to get me out of my head, but what he doesn't understand is there is no path out of this where it doesn't end in tears. And I don't want to cry.
"Tell me what's going through that beautiful head of yours, Rina."
"Please—" I start to snap at him and realize what I'm doing. He's not the problem. Even Maksim isn't the problem. The problem is that I shouldn't be here. I should never have given him my number or answered when he messaged me. This grand adventure is my way of acting out on immature and irresponsible impulses, and I should know better. So I calm myself and say, "Please, Stepan, I really don't want to talk about it. Let's just go to your place."
I curl my fingers more tightly in his, and he respects me by not saying another word the whole drive. He parks out front of his house and kills the engine, then waits for me to get out of his car. His hand rides the small of my back as I walk toward the door, suddenly feeling so clingy and needed. I'm not in a sexy mood,but the instant his lips press against mine once inside the house, I want to lose myself in him.
"Let's have a drink, okay? Help you loosen up?" He pulls away, cupping my cheek, but I know drinking is bad for the baby. I haven't been to a doctor yet, but I know what they’d say and I want to be a good mother. Not a drunk.
"No, just kiss me," I tell him, rising up on my tiptoes to press my lips against his again. But he nips my lower lip and frowns.
"It helps you, baby. You're so tense. I don't want to do this if you're not in the mood. I didn't pick you up just for sex. You're more than that to me."
His words almost kill me. They feel like a knife jabbing into the most sensitive place in my heart. I want this man more than anything and I can't have him or his perfection or his sweetness. It's not mine to own, only to borrow, and he knows it. I can't be more than "just sex" to him. I can't. Because to be "more" means my entire family falls, and how can I live with myself knowing that will happen?
"Stepan," I whisper, hooking my fingers around the back of his neck and pulling him down. "Kiss me now, or let me leave."