“I told you, I wasn’t a prisoner,” I say. “We had a deal. I did the work he hired me for, and he sent me back when I finished.”

“Really? Just what kind of work did that asshole need you to do?”

“It concerned his company. I can’t disclose the details.”

“Why did you lie to me then, hmm? And why won’t you tell me his location?”

“Because I know you, Dad. Don’t you dare send anyone to do something to Rafael.”

“Why? Rafael De Santi is a first-rate assassin, Vasilisa.”

“I know.”

He leans forward, his face drawing level with mine. “Did he touch you? Did that fucker put his dirty paws on my baby girl?” His voice is barely above a whisper. I know that tone. It means he’s furious.

I swallow and force myself to hold his gaze. Telling him the truth now is out of the question. I know my father all too well. If he even suspects that there was something between me and Rafael, he’ll kill him.

“He was a perfect gentleman.” I lay my palms on the countertop. Immediately, my mind is flooded with images of Rafael ravenously eating my pussy on a similar-looking kitchen island.

“Whose jacket are you wearing, Vasilisa?” my brother’s voice booms from the other side of the kitchen.

I look over my shoulder and find Alexei leaning against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s been staying out of this conversation, so I completely forgot he’s here. Panic rises in the pit of my stomach. Before he left for college, we were inseparable. But with too-short visits over summer and holiday breaks, not to mention my father’s demands on my brother’s time when he’s here, we’ve kinda drifted apart. Alexei, however, has always been the most perceptive person I know. And he knows all my tells.

“It’s Rafael’s,” I choke out.

“Mm-hmm.” He pushes away from the fridge and approaches me with slow, deliberate steps. “I’ll go upstairs and get you a sweater. You can take that off. I’ll throw it in the trash.”

“No!” I snap and tug the jacket tighter around me. “Don’t you dare touch it!”

Alexei’s eyes narrow, then he looks at our father. “She’s lying.”

“I’m not lying! I’m tired and just want to go to sleep. Can we continue this interrogation later, please?”

My father grips the edge of the counter, his fingers flexing on it over and over. Then, he takes a deep breath. And another.

“Sure, baby.” He pulls me into him and kisses the top of my head. “Everything is going to be okay. Get some rest.”

With a soft stroke on my cheek, he turns around and leaves the kitchen, his cane clicking on the tiled floor. Alexei trails behind him.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” Mom says as she takes a plate out of the cupboard. “I’ll bring it upstairs.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

Exiting the kitchen, I notice the light at the far end of the long hallway—my dad’s office door has been left slightly ajar. He’s speaking with someone in a hushed voice. Whatever he’s saying is in Russian, and I don’t catch much because of his rapid words. I’m not too great with Dad’s language. I do okay, but only in conversations where the speakers don’t talk too fast. And right now, my father isn’t pacing himself for my benefit.

“I’m going to bed,” I say, standing at the threshold of Dad’s domain.

He nods, the phone still pressed to his ear. “Okay, baby.”

“You’re staying up?”

“Might as well. I have some . . . business to discuss with Sergei.”

“Tell him I’ll drop by soon.”

“Sure. Sleep well.” His tone of voice when speaking with me is warm, but the instant I turn my back and Dad returns to the conversation with his brother, his words are hard and laced with rage. Uncle Sergei must have fucked up. Again. Real bad this time, by the sounds of it.

On the upper floor, I sneak into Yulia’s room and tiptoe to her bedside. After kissing her cheek, I head into my room, which is next door to my sister’s, and plop on the edge of the bed. My eyes wander over the familiar walls and furniture, yet everything feels surreal. I glance at the window overlooking the backyard. The early rays of the sun are breaking through the clouds. If I were in Sicily now, I’d be hearing the crickets perfecting their song. And I’d be lying next to Rafael, with my face buried in his neck. I dip my head, pressing my nose to the lapel of his suit jacket. It still smells like him.

Taking my backpack off my shoulder, I drop it on the bed beside me and unzip the main compartment. More than a dozen velvet boxes of various sizes are inside. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes as I pull out the packages, one by one. No wonder the damn backpack was so heavy. Rafael sent me home with several pounds of jewelry. And . . . My hand wraps around a smooth bell-shaped object at the bottom of the bag. A single fig.

I carefully pull it out, but it’s beyond saving. Almost fully squashed by all those jewelry boxes he piled on top. My old phone is also beneath the loot, fully charged. I unlock the screen and find Rafael’s name in the contacts list. My finger shakes a little as it hovers above the call button. I swipe to the right and press the phone to my ear.

“Vespetta,” his husky voice answers immediately. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. We landed a couple of hours ago.”

“I know. Guido told me.”

I take a deep breath and lean the back of my head on the wall behind me. “Why weren’t you on the plane with me?”

“I never said I would be. You made that assumption on your own,” he says. “Do you like the ring?”

My eyes dart to the simple, thick band. Quite a change in aesthetic from his prior presents. “A parting gift?”

“Well, that depends on you.” A small pause follows. “It’s one of mine,” he continues after a breath. “If you don’t like it, I’ll take it back and buy you something prettier. If you decide to return.”

“Just like that? You dumped me on the plane, while I was unconscious! You sent me home without even a goodbye. What if I just decide to stay here? What then? Why did you do it?”

Nothing but silence on the other end of the line.

“Why, Rafael?”

“Because, if I’d have waited for you to wake up, if I held you in my arms even a second longer, I never would have let you leave, Vasilisa! I would have found a way to keep you with me. I would have lied and spewed empty threats against your family! It’s the only thing that ever swayed you.”

“Did it never occur to you that I may have wanted to stay with you? That you didn’t need the fucking threats?” I bury my face in my hand. “Jesus, Rafael.”

“Don’t you ‘Jesus, Rafael’ me, Vasilisa. I’m not delusional. Why the fuck would you want to be with someone like me? I hoped that buying you pretty things would somehow help diminish the ugliness you were exposed to while being at my side. To somehow lessen the hideosity of waking up to a fucking beast in your bed every morning. It was the only way I could outmatch all the other perfect men who would take you from me. So yes, you’re right. I pressured you to stay because I was afraid that given a choice, you would never choose me.”

A loud crash, something big and heavy, sounds through my phone’s speaker.

“So I did it. Kept you caged. You—the most precious thing in my world. And it didn’t matter a lick that it was all because I’m in love with you. I’ve hurt you, manipulated everything to make you stay. I’ll have to live with that. Will have to keep pushing the air through my lungs while the truth punches me in the gut every day. Because I do love you, whether you believe me or not, and I realized that I would rather let you go than force you to stay with me when it’s not what you want.”

More crashing sounds come through the line, as if he’s demolishing everything in his vicinity.

“You said you want the freedom to make your decision, vespetta. I simply granted that to you. So choose,” he growls. “My plane is still at the same airfield where it landed. Waiting for you. You have until seven tomorrow night to make your decision. If you’re not on board by then, it will depart without you. And I’ll take that as your answer.”

He cuts the call.