“That’s all we ever do. I talk to you. I’m laid bare. You go unscathed, sharing nothing of yourself. Do you know how messed up it is that I didn’t know you have a living family?”
“I should have told you. I see that now.”
“Too little, too late. You expect us to be in this relationship, but we’re not—”
“Yes, we are.”
“Then you don’t know the meaning of the word. If we’d started as a normal couple—regular girl meets regular guy—maybe things could have been different. We would have gotten to know each other, revealing details of our lives on an equal playing field. But it wasn’t like that. You knew everything about me, and I knew nothing about you. Nothing except lies. Our dynamic was ruined from day one.”
His breaths shallowed. “You’re talking like this is done, over beyond salvaging.”
I sobbed, “Because—it—is!”
He swiped his palm over his haggard face. I’d never seen him so shaken. Not even when Paxán died in front of us. “I . . . don’t accept that.”
“I thought that if I gave you my trust, you’d return it. But you won’t. You never will.”
“What if I did? Could I fix this?”
“No. Because if this is what I have to go through to get a crumb of information out of you, I’ll pass. It’s too exhausting! Besides, you warned me of this. You told me point-blank that I expected too much from you. You told me earlier today that trust might never come for us, and that you couldn’t give me things I needed. I’m such an idiot. I know better than this. I know that when a man tells you he’s no good for you, then you listen to him.”
Stupid, Nat, falling in love with an emotionally unavailable man.
When my tears quickened, Sevastyan looked like I’d slapped him. Which just made me madder. There were emotions inside of him—he wasn’t deadened—he’d just decided to keep them from me at all costs.
“If it’s my fate to chase you, then I will. I will do anything to keep you.” He put his head in his hands and rocked back and forward. “After you ran . . . imagining my existence without you . . . I realize . . .”
“What?”
He raised his head to me. “Concerns beyond you no longer matter. You’re at the center of my life”—he frowned—“no, you are my life.”
“Then why don’t you treat me like it? I didn’t even know your real name!” In a cutting tone, I said, “Isn’t that something a fiancée should know?”
“Aleksandr was my grandfather’s name. I cast off my first name when young. Maksim calls me Roman to goad me.”
“Why did you tell him we were engaged?”
“Already there is troubling interest in you as an heiress. You’ll be safer if it gets out that you’re marrying a man who can protect you.”
So Sevastyan was just putting up a front to keep me safe, to fulfill his promise to Paxán—
“And . . . I expected to wed you.” He admitted, “I want to.”
An answering want bubbled up inside me! Then I remembered all the reasons it would never work. “Earlier, you ordered me from the room like a dog—in front of your brother.”
“You’re not to be around him, Natalie. He’s dangerous.”
I wondered what it took for a man like Sevastyan to deem another dangerous. “Why?”
“Because I can never predict what he’ll do.”
“What would it have hurt for you to tell me what you and your brother have been doing for me?”
“The plan is risky. At any moment we could fail. If I tell you I will do something, it’s because I’m confident I can. Not so with this. Plus, the less you know, the safer it is for you.”
Plausible deniability. And to be fair, I couldn’t see him telling me, “I have an idea—probably won’t work—but I’m giving it a shot anyway.”
He added, “Besides, if I disclosed this to you, then you would have asked about Maksim, forcing me to continue my lie to you. I don’t want to lie anymore.”
“What about your becoming the vor? Don’t you think that’s a decision we should have made together?”
“You might have talked me out of it, though I can see no way around it.”
“You didn’t even give me a chance to come to the same conclusion? I’ve surprised you before. I’m not il logical—well, except for being with you.”
Pain flared in his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want your opinion. But I know that the more I talk to you, the more you will expect me to.”
“You’re right. I would have liked for you to tell me at least the most basic things about your past!”
“Maybe I haven’t wanted to reveal these things because I know it will drive you away! The more I want you, the more I dread this. You’ve seen my dread.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Each night, I’ve been tempted to talk to you. A couple of times I came so close. Then, in the morning I would curse my stupidity, my weakness.” He turned away. “I’ve never been so weak with another. And maybe . . . maybe I blamed you for making me feel like this.”
“Like what?”
He whirled around on me. “Like I’ll die without you! And if my past drives you away, then where does that leave me? Fucking dead ! So why have I also been feeling the need to tell you of the past? It makes no sense!”
“That’s your excuse for your coldness?” After every blissful night, he’d awakened even more resolved to shut me out, blaming me because he’d almost folded? “Let me get this straight. You’ve been a dick to me because you wanted me more than you did before?”
He didn’t deny it.
“God! Again, you’re not giving me a chance. You’re driving me away by not talking to me. You know what? I—give—up. If you dreaded every time I asked about your past, you’re really going to now that I’ve stopped.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you get to keep your secrets.” Fresh tears spilled down my face. “I don’t want them anymore!”
“You want me to confide in you because you think it will fix things in me, heal me. It won’t!” Voice rising with each word, he said, “I will always have these shadows inside me!”
I yelled back, “Damn it, Sevastyan, I never wanted the shadows to disappear—I wanted them to be our shadows!”