Chapter Seventeen
Elizabeth
After the charity reception, I don’t go home to McLean, Virginia like I want to. I don’t go to Ryder’s fancy Hollywood mansion either, where I’ve been crashing since Dad came up with his insane marriage demands.
Instead I check into a hotel in L.A. And currently I’m sitting in an armchair in a pink silk dressing gown, my long, thick hair finally dry after a late bath, nursing a vodka. My eyes are free of the contacts I wear to change my eye color from gray to a warmer, more approachable brown.
What wouldn’t I give to be back in Virginia. But I can’t go, not now.
Damn Wife Number Six.
She wheedled and whined and cried until Dad agreed to buy a large property next to mine. If that weren’t bad enough, she’s decided that her status as Dad’s latest trophy wife gives her the right to mother me.
The little brat. She was in diapers when I was doing arithmetic.
I haven’t needed a mother since…forever. Staying in Virginia would end with me cutting Number Six down—leaving her in tears, assuming she has enough IQ points to understand what I was saying.
Probably not. Any word over two syllables is beyond her, unless it’s on a fashion label.
I tense, suddenly sensing another person in the suite, then relax when I hear Tolyan’s voice.
“It’s five a.m. Why aren’t you asleep?” he says.
“It’s five a.m. Why are you still up?”
“I got up half an hour ago.” Tolyan stands in a black suit, a crisp white dress shirt, no tie and a watch with a compass and probably a lot of other cool features I don’t know about. His shoes have a perfect spit-shine as usual.
“Didn’t it cross your mind maybe I got up half an hour ago, too?” I ask.
He gives me a mildly exasperated look. I smile in return. Sometimes I forget he’s not an ordinary man.
And I also forget from time to time that his loyalty isn’t absolute. One day somebody’s going to offer him something I can’t give, and he’ll switch. Just like he did before with Grandma.
“You haven’t slept since you left the Sterling mansion two days ago.”
I scowl at Tolyan’s blatant violation of my privacy, knowing my displeasure won’t matter. He doesn’t believe in such inconvenient things. He does whatever he thinks is best. If you disagree, you’re wrong.
“Lizochka.” His voice holds no inflection. It’s the kind of voice sharks might have if they could talk. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Dominic. Dominic bothers me.
His anger. His pain. His intentions.
They all bother me.
It’s been ten years. He should over it by now. He’s done what he’s set out to do. I’m proud he made his dream come true, the one he told me all those years ago. But instead of finding satisfaction, he seems hungry for a pound of my flesh.
I take a surreptitious glance to my right. Tolyan stands motionless, waiting. He’ll kill Dominic without a moment of hesitation if that’s what he thinks I want—he doesn’t operate under most people’s moral code.
Raising the vodka, I say, “Nate offered to marry me.”
Eyebrows pulled tight, Tolyan walks over to the wet bar, dumps some ground beans and starts the fancy coffeemaker. It gurgles softly. “Did he?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Was the proposal romantic?”
“As romantic as it could be.” Given the circumstances.
Tolyan doesn’t speak, and I don’t volunteer any more information.
A few moments pass. The coffeemaker’s finished, and Tolyan pours the fresh brew into a mug. I reach for it. He shakes his head.
“No, you are not having this, Lizochka. You’re going to go to bed in the next hour before I decide to do something about the cause of your insomnia.”
He already knows, damn it. Feigning ignorance, I pout. Although I eye the coffee, nothing’s going to make him give it to me, and I’m not dumb enough to try to wrestle it from his hand.
So I drink my vodka instead.
Tolyan sips the coffee. “You should marry him. He’s a perfect candidate. Acceptable amount of assets. Clean record, no bad habits, good reputation, high enough IQ, even-tempered. Probably decent in bed.” He recites Nate’s selling points like an auctioneer.
I start to open my mouth, then stop as my heart aches.
I haven’t been able to say yes. I still can’t. I don’t know why, when the logical course of action is so obvious.
Nate is the kind of man who could give me what I want for my revised future—a good marriage, a couple of children, support for my charitable causes. Nobody would dare try to hurt him the way Grandma did Dominic. Nate’s too wealthy, too well connected, too influential.
Still…
I hesitated, wasn’t able to bring myself to say yes. I almost cried with relief when Dominic interrupted us, even though the moment was so awkward I wished I could have fainted dead away.
But once I got away from the two men, it became clear why I couldn’t just kiss Nate and tell him I’d be thrilled to marry him.
The least he deserves from me is my heart, but I no longer have it to give.
Pressing my lips together, I pour another vodka. I can’t tell Nate I reject him because I no longer have a heart. Dominic doesn’t want it. He doesn’t believe he’s gotten what matters to me the most because he doesn’t value my heart…or my soul.
“Nate knew everything,” I say instead.
“Explain ‘everything.’”
“He knew about Dad’s deal.”
Tolyan mutters a few terse Russian words.
“I denied it, but he said he’d heard from Justin.”
“How in the world… Never mind. He has more spies than the CIA.”
“Justin didn’t hear it from Dad.” Dad would never reveal anything that could be twisted to make him look bad. He cares a great deal about his reputation. “But the Sterlings have their army of sycophants.” And those people tell the family whatever they want to know—sometimes even things nobody asks for—in an attempt to ingratiate themselves.
“It may be better that Nate Sterling knows,” Tolyan says finally. “Makes it easier to get through the first year.” The following silence means, Don’t care what happens after that.
“I’m not going to marry anyone for a painting.”
“Love is an illusion. Don’t you want what’s yours?”
“I do.” I’ll never lose what’s mine again. My freedom. My agency. I’d rather die first. “But marriage isn’t the solution. Not yet.”
I get up and look out the window at the city. Dawn is pinkening the concrete and steel sprawl.
“You’re right, though. Nate’s more or less perfect. I should want to marry him, but the idea of marriage leaves me cold.” The idea of marrying Nate twists my gut until I feel shaky. I turn to Tolyan. “Dominic King attended the event.”
“Yes. I saw him.”
“He swore he would strip me bare and expose me for what I am.”
“He’s going to regret that.” Tolyan’s voice is flat and absolute, like he’s stating the sun is round.
“Maybe. But when I saw him face to face, I realized something I hadn’t before.” The old wound throbs as another wave of regret and sorrow flows through me. You’d think after so long, I wouldn’t feel anything…but I do. “Ten years ago, I gave him my heart. When things ended between us, I never got it back.”
“Your heart isn’t the issue,” Tolyan says.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s the guilt and hate driving you both. Guilt because you lied. Hate because he was too weak.”
Maybe I’m more tired than I thought, because Tolyan isn’t making any sense. “I don’t hate him or think he was weak back then.”
“No. You feel the guilt. Hate is for him to feel—about himself. He hates himself for being weak and pathetic. If he’d been stronger, he would’ve been able to protect you. Instead…” Tolyan shrugs.
I shake my head. “You’re wrong. Even if he’d been stronger, he wouldn’t have wanted to protect me. He would’ve destroyed me back then.”
“You think that because you don’t understand men and their egos. He’s angry because he thinks you betrayed him, but trust me, the self-hate is deeper and far more insidious.”
“I want my heart back,” I say, changing the topic since I don’t want to argue over a point Tolyan knows nothing about. “I want it back so I can move on. So I can give it to a worthy man, get married, have children…experience ordinary happiness.” I look him in the eyes. “It’s been so long. Don’t I deserve that now?”
“You’ve never not deserved it, Lizochka.” He sounds almost sad…and regretful.
I shake my head. Tolyan doesn’t understand everything. How could he? I’m having a hard time sorting through it myself. There’re too many things between me and Dominic—love, adoration, admiration, pain, heartache, betrayal, mistrust…
But at the same time…at some point I need to shed the old weight of guilt, grief and injustice to live my life fully.
“How can I help, Lizochka?” Tolyan asks softly.
I finish my vodka. “I have a plan.”