Chapter
Fifteen
SOFIYA
Mikhail doesn’t join me during the night, and he’s not in our room when I wake up. His side of the bed is cold. I don’t understand why he can’t just tell me about his son. I understand what it’s like to lose someone you love. Both my parents are dead—they died at the same time. I know what loss and grief feels like.
All I want is for Mikhail to trust me enough to tell me, but for some reason, he doesn’t. Does he think I’m going to mock him? It dawns on me I’ve never told Mikhail that he can trust me. And I’ve given him every reason not to.
I’ve run from him. I’ve told him he intimidates me. I was terrified after he killed Irina. He knows I trust him, but he doesn’t know he can trust me.
After getting dressed, I head straight for Mikhail’s office and knock on the door. There’s no answer. I knock a few more times until Mary passes by, carrying an arm-full of sheets.
“Mr. Ivanov isn’t in right now,” Mary tells me.
I drop my arm awkwardly at my side. “Oh. I didn’t know.”
Mary huffs. “Of course he didn’t tell you. You don’t own him.”
Anger flares through my body, and I can’t take it anymore. “What the hell is your problem?”
“My problem?” Mary faces me head-on. “I don’t have a problem. It’s you who is the problem.”
“Why? What have I ever done to you? Other than not being Natasha, I don’t know what else I could have done to make you hate me so much.”
“You parade around this house like you own it when Mr. Ivanov built it. You’re just the little girl he married when there were other, more mature women he could have chosen.”
It hits me like a ton of bricks. “You’re jealous.”
She scoffs. “I am not jealous. Of you? No.” But it’s obvious from how she can’t fully look me in the eye that she’s lying to me.
“You are jealous. You like Mikhail.”
“No. He is my boss. I have no romantic feelings for him.”
“You’re closer in age to him than I am. I get why you’d be jealous.”
Mary pulls the sheets closer to her chest and sneers at me. “I am not jealous. Now, Mr. Ivanov is at work, and you’ll have to wait until he’s home to talk to him. Get away from his office.”
“I can do whatever I want, and I’m tired of people bossing me around. I may listen to Mikhail because I want to.” I stand toe-to-toe with her, looking her down. “But I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my husband. If I want to stand by my husband’s office door all day, then I’m going to. Now, why don’t you go back into the kitchen where you belong.”
“You insolent little brat!”
I don’t see her hand coming right for my face until I feel it. My face stings from the slap. I gasp and step back.
“You are not the boss of this house,” Mary says. “Learn your place.” With that, she turns on her heels and walks away.
I slump against the office door, holding my burning cheek. The only thing I feel right now is loneliness. My sisters are here, but they can’t fill the void Mikhail has left in my heart. And now, he’s not even here to protect me from Mary.
I sit on the floor, determined not to move until I can speak to Mikhail again.
MIKHAIL
I’m in the middle of collecting money from Bogdan, a restaurant owner who pays me a monthly fee for my help keeping his restaurant afloat, when I get a call from home.
I assume it’s Sofiya, but it’s Mary’s voice I hear on the other line. “That wife of yours is a brat,” she mutters.
I step away from Bogdan, holding up my finger, and walk to a corner of the restaurant. “What is this about?”
“Your wife had the audacity to tell me what to do. She tried bossing me around. You need to punish her. She’s getting out of hand.”
“How?”
Mary pauses. Then, “She slapped me. Across the face.”
I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. That doesn’t sound like my sweet Sofiya, but maybe she’s acting out because I’m not there. “Fine. I’ll come back soon. Just … stay away from Sofiya in the meantime.”
“Gladly.”
I finish collecting my money and head back home. What I see surprises me—Sofiya is sitting on the floor in front of my office. “What happened between you and Mary?”
She scrambles to stand. “We … argued.”
“She said you slapped her.”
“What? No! She slapped me.” She points at her cheek. “She hit me hard enough to bruise. She was telling me I couldn’t stay in front of your office.”
I inhale deeply. Mary has been a good employee for me for years. Why would she do this now? “Did she really slap you?”
