Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder
Chapter 41
Andrei
I stand in my office with the door wide open, expecting Paige to return soon. A feeling of calm settles over me after last night’s events. No frantic phone calls from Oleg, telling me that the guards had to chase Paige across the hospital car park. Maybe she listened to me, or she finally understood what being part of the Bratva involves.
Dmitri sits sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone, pretending not to care. But every so often, he glances over at the door. Likewise, Natasha walks into the front hall every time there is an unfamiliar noise from outside. Though she puts on an indifferent face as she glances out the window, her curiosity broadcasts her concern.
Around noon, the front door swings open, and laughter follows the footsteps. I try hard not to grin, and I hide my pleasure at the sound of Paige’s laughter. It’s melodic, as if she’s about to hum a ballad. I want to step out into the hallway and investigate, but I control myself.
She stops in front of the office door, Oleg looming behind her, and then beams in my direction. I wasn’t expecting that.
Her face lights up in an expression I haven’t ever seen. No one, except Eva, has ever looked happy to see me. I’ve seen fear before people turn their faces away. Or greed before they make an unreasonable request. But Paige keeps her gaze on me as she smiles.
“Let me know if you need anything else, Paige Geraldovna.” Oleg bows his head slightly, then quickly moves down the hallway.
Dmitri stands and returns her smile with eagerness. He does what I should have done. “Good visit despite the circumstances?” he asks her.
Nodding, Paige steps into the room. Her smile dims slightly. “My dad is stable, which is the best we can expect for now. Thank you for asking.”
She doesn’t notice the look of urgency Dmitri gives me. We don’t have much time.
Dmitri takes Paige’s hand in his. “You have our prayers, Paige Geraldovna.”
She smiles as he leaves the room. He was right to suggest that I give her the phone. Eva said to stop dousing her with vinegar and try a touch of honey. I move toward Paige, thinking of something nice to say. I can dream up a million ways to torture a man, but trying to compliment my wife is a ball-buster.
I recall the way Paige looked at me while at that ill-fated wedding. The way her lips shone under the light as we danced close. The sparkle in her gaze as I held her hands in mine. Her smile returns to her beautiful lips as if she knows she’s in my mind. I step past Paige and shut the door.
Remember, a touch of honey. That’s all I need.
I pull Paige into my arms, holding her tight. A soft sigh slips from her lips as her body sinks into mine. Her hair softly brushes against my chin, and the scent of her body makes me close my eyes. If she were any other woman, I would take her now. I would not allow my emotions to deepen or my heart to leap when she came into view. Any other woman would be naked and moaning in a hotel bed while I took what I desired.
But I can’t. I have to be patient with Paige. That is the plan, but it’s weakening as I look into her face and see her smile again. I convince myself that it’s only a matter of strategy. I have to do this to get the money back.
A little show of affection will get us what we want.
“What are you not telling them?” My arms remain around her, and I avert my gaze.
Paige pulls out of my grasp. “He needs hospice.”
Hospice? I don’t have much time. I guide her toward the couch and sit beside her. And I will myself to relax, draping my arm over her shoulders. Paige leans into me, pressing her soft breasts into my side. Blinking, I remind myself I’ve gone without sex before, but this is different. I didn’t desire it back then.
“My mother was there. She says she wants to talk to me.”
My body freezes into stone, and she must have felt it. Paige looks into my eyes.
“Why?” I ask.
She rests her head on my chest again. “She says she wants to tell me why she left. And I want to know.”
I grip her thigh, pausing to feel her sexy hips and pull her closer. She cannot see my puzzled expression. Does Cynthia Reyes know something about Gerald? About his involvement—whatever it may be? She must. There’s no other explanation.
Her fingers touch my chest, and I realize that Paige is crying.
“I’m sorry, Paige.” The words sound awkward as I recite them. Stiff and insincere coming from my mouth.
But Paige smiles softly, replacing sadness with thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Andrei. I’m glad to see her again. I thought I wanted to hate her, but I can’t. We’re seeing each other on Tuesday.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it.”
“I remember one fight in particular,” she says.
Paige tells me things I didn’t imagine happening in a regular home, only in the Bratva. Of course, I have no illusions that regular people don’t have violence at home. But I never imagined someone like Paige having to also face it. She acts normal, without any vices to cover up.
“I’m sorry,” she says, sitting up. “I must be boring. You have things to do.”
I grip her hand, preventing her from getting up. “For you, I have all the time in the world.”
Slowly, Paige lowers herself back down on the couch. Her posture is stiff, but soon she leans back into the cushions. She won’t look into my eyes, but I want her to. I pass my thumb over her fingers, and her shoulders relax. I stroke her fingers again, and she leans her head on my shoulder.
For a few moments, we sit in silence before I finally speak.
“I suffered through years of pain and disappointment until I could protect Eva,” I tell Paige. “Sometimes Vasily would slap Eva to goad me. He would wait until I entered the room and pick a petty fight over a misplaced shirt or a cold meal. Small, inconsequential things that the staff could fix instantly. But things that Vasily blamed her for. Whenever he would slap her, I would get between them, and he’d beat me for it. In time, he didn’t even bother to pick a fight with her anymore. Instead, he’d call me into the room and make me watch as he hurt her.”
“I’m so sorry, Andrei.”
I shift over, and Paige has to sit up on her own. I didn’t tell her to get her pity. I’m not sure why I told her at all. Her hand touches my shoulder while I stare hard out the window.
“My mother brought a man home while my father was there,” she whispers. “Before the divorce.”
Ivan? Curiosity piques as I turn to look at her. “What did he do in response?”
“Nothing. Emma was too little to understand, but I could hear them through the walls. My father sat in the kitchen, drinking. Dad was still there in the morning with his head on the table. He never went back into their bedroom after that.” Paige snorts a laugh. “I guess we all have our fucked-up pasts, don’t we?”
“Some more than others.” My voice softens as I pull her onto my lap. “Not since I have you.”
Paige bites her lip; a slow, wicked smile appears on her lips. “That’s so corny.”
It’s as if an understanding now descends between us. A newfound connection is forming—one that transcends mere words.
“Eva told you about the first time I stood up for her,” I offer. “But she never told you the truth.”
Paige sits up straighter, her crystal blue eyes intently drilling into mine. “She told me it was because she didn’t want his mistress in his bed.”
“No.” I pause, searching for the right words. When I find none, I settle on the simple truth. “It’s because he found out she was pregnant. He wanted to kill her that night. But first, he wanted to kill the baby in her belly. He made me stand there and watch.” I squeeze my fingers together at the memory of that night.
A sobbing woman clutching her belly. A helpless boy screaming at a monster. And a rain of fists he can’t protect her from.
“She screamed for help and no one came. Finally, I could no longer watch.” I close my eyes and feel my body trembling at the memory. “No one but me. I was Vasily’s only son. Yet that night, I knew he would not hesitate to kill me. Only when Eva screamed that Vasily was killing me did his brigadiers finally step in. A dozen men stood outside the door. All of them listened, and not a single one of them lifted a finger until the monster turned his anger on me.”
I open my eyes and fight to keep my breath even. The feeling of relief is strange to tell someone. Paige’s eyes are locked on mine, and they’re brimming with tears.
“It’s never too late, Paige,” I whisper. “To repair your broken relationship with your mother.”
