Going through hardships as a child was much different than going through them as an adult. When Charlotte was nine, the death of her mother had devastated her, but she bounced back. Having no home had made her feel broken and vulnerable, but her father had told her to use the pain to make herself stronger.

And so she had.

But Charlotte wasn’t a child anymore. She couldn’t go running to her father with all her problems - and this was a mess that she was going to have to fix herself.

The first few days back in Los Angeles were sheer agony. The first thing she did was cancel all her contracts with Kensley Enterprises. Of course, she wasn’t so petty that she wouldn’t allow them to keep the designs and finish the building, but she wouldn’t be on site. In fact, she wouldn’t go within five miles of the damned thing if she could help it.

Abandoning her contracts meant abandoning the remainder of her salary - most of which was set to be paid upon completion of the structures she worked on.

Which meant that Charlotte was all the way back to square one. She had managed to squirrel away ten, maybe twenty thousand dollars - but that wasn’t enough to start her own firm. In LA, that was barely enough to live on for six months.

Which meant that she had to get a new job.

That, perhaps, was the hardest. It had been difficult enough for Charlotte to find work before the fiasco with Kensley Enterprises - now it seemed as if her name preceded her everywhere she applied. Of course, when she quit the Kensley and Dansk projects so soon after the news scandal, it had only seemed to confirm that the nasty lies about her were true. No one wanted to touch her.

 

But that wasn’t the worst part.

Charlotte was used to job hunting in vain. Once she had graduated architecture school, she had spent almost a year searching for work before she was hired at a firm - and she could be patient.

The worst part was reliving the last six months...wondering where the hell she had gone wrong.

Delilah, for her part, tried to lift her out of her doldrums. The first night Charlotte arrived back in LA, she let the redhead cry until she had exhausted herself. When she woke, Lila made sure she ate, even though she said she had little appetite.

But it wasn’t just her appetite for food that had gone. Charlotte found she had little interest in anything at all...even her drawing table. It was as if any and all inspiration had simply fled without a trace. On her way back from Russia, her head had been full to bursting with ideas. She was eager to have a pencil and paper in hand.

But that was before New York. Before everything fell apart.

Charlotte hadn’t gotten a letter back from Kensley Enterprises after her resignation. She did her best not to think about it. In reality, she’d gotten lucky. They could have sued her for breaking contract and leaving them high and dry. But, somehow, she couldn’t imagine Vladimir or his father being so petty.

Charlotte was listless. Her insomnia returned full force and, without inspiration to draw, she stayed up half the night watching old movies she had no interest in. In her astoundingly dull life, only one thing remained plainly vivid: her memories of Vladimir.

She was stupid to have gotten involved with him. Stupid to think that he could ever understand her, and now, she was even stupider still to dwell on memories that only hurt her. The first time he kissed her...How he’d shown her around St. Petersburg...the way he complimented her in her gray dress.

The dress was still in the Kensley Manor, and, honestly, Charlotte was probably better for it.

One day, about two weeks after she had returned to Los Angeles, Lila came home from work early. As usual, she grabbed the mail on her way in and sifted through it, pausing when she came upon a letter addressed to Charlotte. Glancing at the redhead sprawled on the couch she scanned it quickly before making a face. “Charlotte.”

The elder woman raised her head slightly. “Hi Lila.”

“Hi Lotte.” Biting her lip, Lila rounded the couch to sink down next to her friend. “Lotte, your old company sent you something. They say they’d be willing to rehire you.”

Charlotte showed no visible reaction to this, her eyes sliding closed. “Mm.”

It was insulting for Lila to read further, and she only did it because she knew that Charlotte needed work...and no one wanted to give it to her. In the space of a month, she’d gone from up-and-coming to outcast, and all because of Vladimir fucking Kensley. If she ever saw the man again, Lila would throttle him. “You’d have to take a ten percent pay cut and sign a two year non-compete clause, along with a contract.”

Charlotte exhaled a long breath and Lila found her own chest tight. She hated this. It was like something in her best friend had broken, and there was nothing she could do to fix it.

“Ok.” Charlotte’s words jerked the blonde out of her reverie and her eyes widened.

“Ok what?”

“‘Ok’ I’ll go back to the firm.”

“Charlotte!” Lila all but screeched in outrage.  “This is fucking exploitation! There’s no way you can accept this!” Now, she regretted even opening the damn thing!

But Charlotte did accept it. A week later she was back at work - eight hour days, five days a week. Somehow, it wasn’t as bad as she remembered it. She was lucky there was no pressure to come up with her usual designs, as her well had run dry. It was easy enough to draw lines straight up and down on paper - and people liked that sort of thing, even if she found it uninspired.

She wasn’t the top designer at the company - but then, she had never achieved that title before. People had wanted her before because she was unique. An oddity. Now the firm just wanted her back to exploit the buzz around her name.

Either way, she was making money again. She could support herself. Charlotte had dreaded the possibility of having to ask her father for money. The man had already called her and told her that he would provide her with anything she needed during the difficult time in her life, as well as threatening to wring the necks of both Jackson Kensley and his second oldest son...but Charlotte had dissuaded him.

She didn’t blame Jackson, and she wouldn’t want her father’s long-standing relationship with his friend souring because of a misconception. She wished Jackson Kensley nothing but the best and, secretly, seeing news of his improvement due to his chemo treatments was one of the only things that lifted her spirits.

Vladimir returned to Los Angeles about a week after she did - and there was a lot of buzz around him too. After his first official media appearance, they couldn’t seem to get enough of him - even though he had reverted to his old ways. He avoided the cameras whenever possible, and spoke to no one.

Not that Charlotte was watching.

It was strange to know that he was only ten miles away from her - the workaholic back in his element. Charlotte wondered if he had already written her off as an imperfection in the perfect alignment of his life.

It was the first time she actually cried since that first night back from New York, and then she grew angry about how much the thought of the man still upset her.

Eventually, she promised herself, she would get over him. It hurt now, but maybe three months in the future...or six…. perhaps even a year on, this would all be just a faint memory. A subscript in the tale of her life. Her inspiration would return and, somehow, she would dig herself out of the rut into which she’d slid.

That was what she needed to think about now. Wasting any more time on Vladimir Kensley was a lost cause.

 

**

 

“Vlad.”

He spent a lot of time in his office. When Vladimir was working, he didn’t have to think about anything else...and that was how he liked it.

“Vlad.” In truth, Vladimir didn’t even know why he had bothered to keep his hotel reservation. There was a plush armchair in his office, and a long sofa...he could sleep here. It just meant that he could get more done.

“Vladimir.” The third time his name was called, he finally looked up to see who was in the doorway - and dropped his pen in surprise.

It was Ethan.

The last time he’d spoke to Ethan was on the phone, a week ago. Either he or Lucas called weekly to give him updates on their father’s condition. Jackson was almost done with his first round of treatment, and soon, they would be sending him home to rest. Vladimir knew he should be overjoyed, but these days, he found it an effort to just be. The work that he used to revel in now exhausted him...but he still kept up. He had never fallen behind, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Ethan...what a nice surprise.” Vladimir meant every word, but the statement came out sounding lackluster.

“You sound thrilled.” Ethan’s response was sardonic and he tossed his leather duffel onto the floor before stepping into the office. “I just got in... thought I’d come and pay you a visit.”

“I appreciate it,” Vlad put a little more enthusiasm into his answer this time. “What brings you to town?”

“Here to meet Harper’s parents, actually.” Vladimir’s head snapped up in shock at that one. Parents? Ethan? Unless they were their parents, he’d never heard the words used in the same sentence.

“The girl with you last month?”

Ethan nodded with a small, amused smile. “Athena’s here too. She’s come to visit Harper…. I tried to get Toshiro to come, but he’s firmly entrenched in Italy.”

“So... this is serious then.” It was the only thing Vladimir could think to say. 

Ethan shrugs. “That’s up to her, I guess. I’m just a playboy playing a card.” It was a very typically Ethan thing to say, and Vlad rolled his eyes. “In more important news, Vlad, I got some information from HR here that worries me.”

“Really?” Vladimir gave his brother his full attention. “What’s going on?”

Ethan gave the elder man a pointed look before answering. “You haven’t left the office in a week. What’s that about?”

Vladimir immediately frowned. “Please don’t tell me you came to interrogate me too.” This was just the kind of meddling that drove him out of his mind. Even more so now because, somewhere, deep down, Vladimir did want help. He wanted someone to tell him how to fixed this damn hollow feeling in his chest. Why his cheek still smarted where Charlotte had struck him a whole fucking month later.

There were times when he thought he was losing his mind. “No one’s interrogating you, Vlad.”

“Oh, I’m certainly interrogating him. I’m interrogating the living hell out of him.” Vlad bolted to his feet almost immediately as his father, supported by his mother, came ambling into the room.

“Dad!” He exclaimed, his tone thick with worry. “What are you doing here? You’re not healthy enough to travel! You haven’t even finished your treatment-”

“Vladimir, be a good boy and put your ass in the seat.” Jackson pointed with his wooden cane and, automatically, Vladimir sat. Fifteen or thirty-five, the result was the same. When Jackson Kensley raised his voice, you listened. “Now…” The older man eased into the armchair across from his son.

Though he looked pale and drained, their father wasn’t trembling. His voice was strong and his green eyes bright with conviction. Vladimir shot Ethan a furtive gaze as if to ask for help, but the shorter man merely held his hands up helplessly.  Olivia Kensley sank down on the couch next to Ethan, looking just as upset as Vladimir that Jackson had somehow managed to sneak into a three-thousand mile flight. “There’s working and then there’s working yourself to death, Vladimir, and you’re doing the latter. You keep this up, I’m going to have to pass the business to Alistair in a few months, and we’ll all be screwed.”

Vladimir couldn’t even imagine. If Alistair even caught wind of any such plans, he’d run for the hills. “Vlad, we know you’re not a talker. And you don’t like people meddling in your business. Why,” he went on pointedly, “Do you think I sent you Charlotte?”

Vladimir opened his mouth, then shut it. Sent? “Because, my boy, she likes to talk. And she gets into people’s business. She’s a brilliant artist, a talented architect and despite that tough exterior, she gives everything of herself.”

She’d certainly given everything to him.

It was a realization that only hit Vladimir in that instant. He had known that she came to New York because he asked her, but now, upon further reflection, Vladimir remembered other things she’d done.

Sharing her city with him. She didn’t have to eat lunch with her complicated boss every day - to teach him to like things that were common place to her. She had worked just as hard as he had worked - harder, perhaps, to prove that she was up to the gargantuan task before her. She had altered her plans - her precious plans - to compromise with him when he called her outlandish. She let him show her his world in Russia, and gave her body to him when he his need overwhelmed him.

And then she gave him her love. She gave it to him and, like a goddamned fool, he tried to stuff it into a bottle and put a label on it. A proclamation. Feelings that changed with the wind. Dear Christ, when he said those things about her in front of the entirety of America…

No wonder she had slapped him.

Charlotte handed her heart to him on a silver platter and he had all but skewered it.

“She loved me.” He murmured, his own heart heavy with regret. “And I didn’t understand it.”

“Loves,” Ethan piped up at that particular moment, raising a finger in emphasis. “She loves you. If the way the woman was looking at you was any indication, I doubt she’s just forgotten it that quickly.”

Vladimir felt a glorious jolt of emotion he thought he had forgotten over the past month: crazy, insane hope. But, just as quickly as it erupted, the flame flickered and died. “I humiliated her…” He groaned, raking his hands through his hair as guilt coiled within him. “I let her walk away and I…” He trailed off. “I didn’t think I could love her back.”

At the time, Vladimir had been so busy trying to quantify the emotion that he hadn’t even realized that it was staring him in the face. The calm Charlotte brought him when everything else was turmoil. How he could lose himself in her for hours. How she both infuriated and amused him at the same time...and the way she stayed by his side when he needed her most.

Vladimir had never told anyone he needed them. Not until Charlotte.

“And now?” His mother’s soft touch came up under his chin, raising Vladimir’s race to witness her radiant smile.

“I…” Fuck, they were really going to make him say it. Once he did, Vladimir knew there was no going back. This was the ultimate interrogation...but this time, he needed it. “I need her.”

“Well,” With the largest grin Vladimir had seen in a while, Jackson Kensley hauled himself to his feet. “I need my damned architect back. This substitute is bungling everything.”

Bungling was perhaps a strong word, but Vladimir would be the first to admit that the man they’re hired to replace Charlotte had none of her vision. He was, in a word, boring. And six months ago, Vladimir would have welcomed him with open arms.

But things had changed.

“I heard,” Ethan tried for a casual tone but failed miserably. It was clear he was salivating in anticipation. “That she’s been hired back at her old firm. And under contract no less.”

The information bought a surprisingly intense burst of anger bubbling to the surface of Vladimir’s consciousness. Charlotte had told him how the last firm she worked for made it their inherent duty to stifle her creativity. The fact that she had to go back to them…” It’s three...which means she’ll still be at work for the next two hours.”

But Vladimir was already up and grabbing his suit coat. Ethan all but cackled as he strode past him. “Oh, I’m calling every reporter in the city.”

That hardly sounded good - but at this particular juncture, Vladimir didn’t care. He was willing to do whatever it took to get Charlotte back in his arms...grovel and beg if need be.

He simply wouldn’t be complete without her.

 

**

 

It was a particularly dull day. Charlotte was counting down the hours until she got off the clock. A client had come in and requested her specifically, citing something about some drawings she’d done years ago that the company kept on record.

They wanted her particular brand of artistry - the abstract. The new and indefinite.

And, for the first time in a month, Charlotte had been tempted.

She did her best to swallow the urge. It would do her no good if inspiration hit her now. There would be nothing she could do but sit on it for two years - the length of the contract she had signed with the firm. As per the provisions of said contract, even if she did create something worth building, the company would own it outright.

But even those conditions weren’t enough to stop her drawing hand from itching.

While everyone was out for lunch, Charlotte remained in the office. She hesitated for almost a full five minutes before bringing out a pencil and paper.

And then she began to draw - and everything came rushing back. The emptiness ebbed, her chest filled and for the first time in four weeks, she saw in color. Bold, strong lines, a slanting roof, an unconventional triple entryway...Within ten minutes she was completely absorbed -and her drawing hand moved as if it had a mind of its own.

Half an hour into her lunch break, she still hadn’t eaten a thing. Lila was going to be mad at her, she knew. Charlotte was so engrossed in her drawing, that she didn’t even look up when the bell over the door sounded.

A minute later, a tall shadow fell over her, and she started, raising her head.

In that instant, the redhead forgot how to breathe.

Vladimir Kensley stood over her. He was out of breath- almost as if he’d been running. His hair was mussed and his clothes windswept. His shirt looked like he might have slept in it, but God did he look glorious. If Charlotte thought she had missed those deep blue eyes of his before, seeing them in the flesh only reminded her of all she’d lost.

Of what he’d said about her.

Charlotte steadied herself, trying to quell her pounding heart. “Can I help you?” Though she’d tried for a frosty tone, a slight tremor ruined it, and she cursed inwardly. What was he doing here? What more could he possibly want?

“Charlotte, I love you.”

Time stopped.

Charlotte thought, for a second, that she might have died in her sleep. She couldn’t be conscious. This had to be a dream, because there was no way Vladimir was here, in her own personal hell, saying the three words she never thought she’d hear him utter. “I know you might not believe me,” Vladimir continued, his voice low and intense, his gaze desperate. “But I swear to you I have regretted the night you left for the past four weeks. I was an asshole...I was...coldly logical...I was the me that you tried to breed out and when I lost you...I realized that I would rather give all that up than give you up.”

She couldn’t speak...and even if she could, Charlotte had no idea what she’d say.  “I’m not a praying man, Lotte,” He continued, the nickname giving her a little thrill, “But if I were, the only thing I’d want is your forgiveness. If you could ever love me like you did...I can wait. I can wait for as long as it takes.”

Dear Jesus Christ, she didn’t want to cry. Charlotte had done more than enough crying in the past few weeks. But, here she was, doing her best to swallow the sobs that threatened to break free.

“Vladimir…” She managed to croak moisture blurring her vision. “You ass…”

“Come with me, Charlotte.” Reaching for her, Vladimir took her hand in his. “You don’t belong here. Come back to the project. We have to go back to Russia...to Berlin.”

Berlin…

“Unfortunately, Mr. Kensley, she’s not going anywhere.”

It was like a scene from a bad movie - which Charlotte had been watching far too much of lately. Her boss, Jennifer, was always the first to return from lunch, and today was no exception. At the sight of Vladimir Kensley in her office, the woman’s piggy gray eyes lit in triumph. She had been hoping for this day, the bitch. “Charlotte came back of her own accord.” The older woman dropped the bag with her lunch in it on her desk, rounding the corner to confront Vladimir directly. “I have three copies of a signed contract and a non-compete clause - legally binding for two years.”

Charlotte’s heart sank. That meant no Kensley building...no Dansk in St. Petersburg…

But Vladimir hardly blinked at the pompous woman’s proclamation. His blue gaze was cold as he stared down his nose at her. “Jennifer Connor, is it?”

The woman preened. “You’ve heard of our firm.”

“I know your name,” Vladimir continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, “Because I bought your firm - about thirty minutes ago. And I’m very happy to say that I will be tearing up Charlotte’s contracts right after you pack up your desk.”

Jennifer’s eyes all but bugged out of her head as her face went pale. “Y-you can’t be serious.”

“You can make a few calls while you’re moving your things,” Vladimir returned flatly, before taking Charlotte’s hand to tug her out from behind her desk. He glanced down at the half-finished drawing on her desk, turning his head sideways and frowning deeply as he looked down at it. “What’s this? A private residence?”

Charlotte laughed. She couldn’t help it. Some things never changed. “It’s a mockup for an insurance bureau...I don’t do houses, Vladimir.”

The dark-haired man rolled up the drawing almost tenderly before handing it to her. “You could do our house.”

Charlotte inhale sharply as her heart leapt. “Our house?”

Vladimir merely beamed at her. “We can talk about it later. Over dinner. But first, we have a press conference.”

Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “A... a what?”

But Vladimir was already dragging her towards the front entryway, beyond which Charlotte could see no less than twenty reporters congregated. On their way out, they passed a desolate looking Jennifer, who was on the phone and looking paler by the minute.

The din beyond the doors of the firm was ungodly, each reporter clamoring to get their questions in. Charlotte, who found she liked reporters little more than Vladimir did, attempted to hide behind him, but he pulled her front and center. Instead of answering a single question they posed to him, he plucked the first microphone he could find from the slender fingers of a female reporter.

Cameras rolled. “I’m only going to say this once,” Vladimir spoke in a strong voice that echoed over the crowd as he pulled Charlotte close. “Charlotte Gardner is coming back to work for Kensley Enterprises. She will be assuming the role of consulting architect on several of our upcoming projects.” He glanced down at her as Charlotte gaped at him. She realized, dimly, that Jackson Kensley stood at the back of the crowd, supported by both his wife and his son Ethan. She had no idea how he’d gotten here, or why he’d come so far, but the man was shooting her an incomparable grin, and a thumbs up.

“Charlotte will also,” Her attention snapped back to Vladimir, who was continuing in a decidedly different tone. His voice had become almost hesitant - something on the edge of hopeful and nervous, “With a little luck, consent to marry me...because no one else can tolerate me like she can.”

In that moment, everyone else ceased to exist. The roar of over-excited reporters faded to the background, and LA traffic ground to a halt.

Vladimir wanted her to marry him. Marriage.  Just like that.

Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands, regardless of who was watching. “I will never understand you,” her heart was fuller than it had ever been, and Charlotte knew that now, more than ever, her future burned bright.

“You don’t have to,” Vladimir’s lips skimmed hers, “You just have to say yes.”

And so, in the most outlandish action she had ever performed, Charlotte did.

Just like that.

 

THE END