A week and a half of treatment left Jackson Kensley completely undaunted. Weak, queasy and tired, but he was still going strong. Doctors revealed that he was responding about as well as they might have hoped, and so, Vladimir began the preparations to head back to LA.

There was nothing more he could do. If need be, he could be on a plane back to New York with thirty minutes notice; and besides that...he wouldn’t be alone in LA.

Charlotte would be with him. Not only as his colleague, or as an architect...but as his woman.

Frankly, Vladimir’s mind was still blown by her admission. Charlotte always shot from the hip, her conversation quick and to the point. But for her to tell him that she loved him…

After all he had done, he hardly deserved it. He had questioned her as an artist. Taken advantage of her, forced her to hide what was between them. But when they returned to LA, that would all change.

It was an intimidating prospect.

Vladimir had never enjoyed dealing with the media, and he could only imagine what might happen when they got wind of what was going on with Charlotte. They would have a goddamn field day and he...he had no idea how well he could cope. Since his father had been hospitalized, his temper seemed on a razor-sharp edge. There was a part of him that worried that he’d do something reproachable - get physical with a reporter that said the wrong thing…

But he had to trust in himself.

It was something Charlotte was trying to teach him - and Vladimir knew that it would be a slow uphill battle...but it just might be possible with her along to urge him on.

Charlotte was brash, demanding and outlandish, but she had also never left his side when he needed her most. She let him into her bed, into her mind, and now, she let him into her heart - even if he hardly knew how his own operated.

Love...what was love? He had thought that Toshiro might be in love with Athena, but the two had obviously had a falling out. Perhaps the end date that Athena had hinted at finally came, and Toshiro hadn’t been ready. Or perhaps it had been something much worse.

Either way, Vladimir knew there would be no declarations from him until he was absolutely sure.

It was a daunting prospect...but he knew Charlotte would wait. She promised him that she would...and calmed him, like she always had.

Despite the profession that she would never pack his bags again, she was doing it now. The redhead had dragged her suitcase into his room to begin packing for both of them. Vladimir was due for his last few hours for his father, but he had managed to wheedle her into his bed for a lingering lovemaking session that had only reminded him how much he owed Charlotte.

How much she had done for him.

He left her dazed, promising to finish packing as he made his last trip to the hospital. For the entire drive, Vladimir attempted positive thinking. His father had fared well with the treatment so far. Who was to say that he wouldn't continue to do well. He would have their mother by his side, and Ethan and Lucas. Alistair was returning to Texas, but he promised to return at the drop of a hat.

Toshiro, still quiet and sullen, was due in London in three days for a series of meetings. And so, life resumed, with them all dancing on the edge of a knife...waiting.

When he arrived at the hospital, there were no less than fifty reporters waiting outside. The very sight of them raised Vladimir’s ire. Ever since news of his father’s illness, reporters had seemed to follow the Kensleys wherever they went. The supermarket, the gas station...they had even attempted several times to get onto the manor grounds. They were completely and totally unorthodox, and if his family’s image wasn’t on the line, Vladimir might very well give them a piece of his mind.

Anger had burned away all reluctance, and he found himself biting his tongue as he fought his way through them, refusing to answer even a single question. When he reached the hospital lobby, however, everything finally fell quiet once more.

The only sound was the news droning in the background, on several TVs around the lobby space.

Their family had ceased signing in after the second day of their father’s stay, and Vladimir strode past the front desk. As he did so, the nurses there whispered furiously beneath their breaths, prompting a look back over his shoulder in confusion. One would think that, by this point, they’d be used to Kensleys coming in and out. There was no need to lose their heads.

There was some maintenance being done in the stairwell so, for once, Vladimir elected to take the elevator. While he was in the elevator, the furtive whispering continued. He noticed, then, that it came from not only the nurses at the front desk, but also a few working in the halls. The very sight of him sent them into an uproar. Frowning, he stepped into the elevator the moment it arrived.

If his presence was beginning to rile up the hospital staff so much, maybe it was a good thing that he was leaving. In LA, he could find a semblance of peace in his work. At least, he would until news of he and Charlotte hit the media outlets.

There was a selfish, self-preserving part of him that was tempted to ask Charlotte if there was any way she might be willing to keep their romance under wraps for just a little while longer - though not with his family. If he just had time to prepare, he was sure that he could come up with a way to temper the incoming storm.

When Vladimir arrived on the fifth floor, the first thing to catch his attention was Doctor Banyan’s blatant glare. The middle-aged woman was in charge of his father’s treatment, and, up until that point, she had never acted in any manner less than amicable. But now, there was no other way to describe the look in her eye besides cold anger.

Vladimir arched a brow in confusion. “Doctor Banyan, is there some issue here?”

The doctor didn’t even answer him. Instead, she turned her nose up, yanking a clipboard from the counter and marched down the hall and out of sight.

What the almighty hell?

His scowl only deepening, Vladimir turned down the opposite hall to head for his father’s room. In the five or so meters that he travelled, he met the incensed gazes of another three nurses. The expressions on their faces were no less than absolutely malicious, and he found himself wondering how on earth he had displeased them. He had barely even spoken to any of them.

His expression perplexed, he knocked briefly on his father’s door before entering. When he stepped inside, however, he was surprised to see both his parents’ anxious faces staring up at him. For once, his mother wasn’t by his father’s side. Instead, she stood in the middle of the room, before the TV mounted on the wall. The moment Vladimir set foot inside the room, she switched the television off with a guilty expression, as if she’d been caught in an act she shouldn’t. “Vladimir!” The pleased surprise in her voice was strange, and Vladimir found himself looking from her to his father and then back again.

While Olivia Kensley looked more nervous, Jackson’s expression was one of outright disgust.

What the hell was going on here. “Dad...Mom...what’s going on?” He inquired, glancing at the still buzzing TV. “What were you watching?”

“Nothing!” His mother hurried to reassure him. When she smiled, the gesture was so false that it made his stomach turn. “Nothing at all, honey. Have you come to say goodbye to your father?” When she came to him Vladimir hugged her, but only errantly. After kissing her cheek, he turned his gaze to his father.

“Dad...what’s going on here?”

Jackson Kensley’s brow furrowed. “Nothing you need to worry about, Vladimir. It’s just nonsense.”

“What kind of nonsense?” Did it have something to do with the staff and how they were looking at him?

“Exactly what your father said, Vlad. Rude, vicious rumors...there’s no need to put stock in any of it-” but before she had finished her statement, Vlad used lightning reflexes to snatch the remote from her grip and switch the TV back on.

The featured news story was enough to make his eyes widen in horror as his heart dropped into his stomach.

“With billionaire mogul Jackson Kensley hospitalized with stage III cancer, the responsibilities of one of the most influential companies in the world fall on the shoulders of his adopted son, thirty-five-year-old Vladimir Kensley. Vladimir, notoriously camera shy, has taken some time off from caring from his father to become involved in a steamy affair with up and coming west-coast architect Charlotte Gardner.”

A series of blurry pictures of the two of them flashed on screen. While the quality was questionable, there was no doubt that it was Vladimir and Charlotte. Up on the roof, locked in an embrace, through the window of the Kensley Mansion, wrapped up together on a sofa...and then, a picture of Vladimir arriving with Charlotte at the airport, clutching her hand in a vice like grip.

“Several news outlets are questioning the timing of this star-crossed love affair. Charlotte Gardner, a talented but controversial name in her field, recently landed not only one, but two huge contracts designing for Kensley Enterprises. A number of sources suggest that she is exploiting the least media savvy of the Kensley sons for a bid in their empire.

“Whether or not she and Kensley are a genuine item, along with the validity of her hire, remain in question. The timing, however, seems incredibly convenient - and it appears there is quite a good reason why Vladimir Kensley has wished to hide from the spotlight.” Two juxtaposing images appeared on screen - one taken of Jackson Kensley in his bed - how a reporter had gotten it was anyone’s guest. The other showed Vladimir on the hospital roof locked in Charlotte’s embrace.

It took less than five seconds for Vladimir to put everything together.

They were implying that he neglected his father in favor of Charlotte. That he was too wrapped up in her to space Jackson Kensley the time of day. Atop that...they were all but ramming the idea of Charlotte as an exploiter down the throats of anyone who would watch. It was infuriating and disgusting all at once.

And it was the reason why everyone in the hospital thought that he was the spawn of Satan.

“I just can’t believe his own son would do that to him,” The reporter was now interviewing God knew who - a random stranger eager to let his opinion be known, “The man adopted him and groomed him to be one of the most powerful man in the world, and now he jumps dumps him for some poontang.”

“Personally, I think the girl’s a mess. This Charlotte girl.” Then it was a blonde with a hairline ten shades darker than her bleached blonde locks. “Working on the Kensleys like that. She’s got some damn nerve pulling something like that in their time of need-”

Vladimir switched the TV off. He couldn’t stand to hear anymore.

For at least a full minute, terse silence reigned in the room. Jackson Kensley was the one who finally broke it with a deep clearing of his throat. “Complete and utter nonsense. They’re just pissed because we didn’t throw them a bone.”

But Vladimir was hardly listening. He might be a new hat when it came to dealing with the media, but he knew how to recognize his family’s name being drawn through the mud. Charlotte’s name being drawn through the mud.

It was a shit story, and it was nasty as hell - but the ramifications were staggering. This was one of the major news outlets. People all over the country were seeing this. Seeing him for the first time.

He had to do something.

Turning on his heel, Vladimir strode for the door. “Vladimir, where are you going?” His mother demanded, grabbing for his sleeve desperately.

“To talk some sense into them,” her son replied flatly, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Vladimir ignored the disapproving stares of the hospital staff. He didn’t know which was worse - that the media would actually pull a stunt like this, or that people as reputable as doctors and nurses would believe it. He took the elevator to the first floor and made a beeline for the front entryway, both outrage and anger driving his steps.

Once he stepped from the building, a hundred cameras were on him - fifty microphones, all hanging on his every word.

Well, he would give them something to listen to.

“Mr. Kensley, what do you have to say about the current allegations?”

“There’s been news that Charlotte Gardner is carrying your child. Can you confirm or deny these rumors?”

“Is it true that you’ve been using the Kensley Manor as a romantic getaway in your father’s absence?”

 

“Listen to me, all of you.” Vladimir cut them off with a sharp sentence that silenced every last reporter. The cameras, however, kept rolling as he made his statement. “All of these vile rumors are just that: rumors. If there is anyone who is exploiting my family and infringing on their privacy, it is the party that took these images and anyone who perpetuates this nonsense.”

For having never given a public statement before, he’d say that he was doing pretty good. The reporters had the good sense to be taken aback, and a few even appeared downright ashamed.

But there were others, still, who were undaunted. “So none of it’s true?” A plucky brunette with crimson lips nudged him, her eyes bright. “Absolutely none?”

Vladimir scowled deeply at her prodding. “Charlotte Gardner is a well vetted member of the architectural community. There has never been even the slightest hint of foul play in her being hired to help us move the construction of our buildings into a new age.”

“And I suppose the fact that she’s a friend of the family has nothing to do with her getting hired?” This time is was a middle-aged graying man with a smarmy demeanor that Vladimir instantly disliked. “I have a source that says she’s the daughter of Trevor Gardner, who has known your father since they were boys.”

Vladimir faltered somewhat. It was no new information for him - but how was he supposed to explain the situation to someone desperate to see it in the wrong light.

“My father hasn’t interacted with Charlotte Gardner until recently - the selection for the projects was made on blind submissions for the projects.”

That seemed to stump the man, and Vladimir chocked up another win. For all his father and brothers blustered about the evils of reporters, they didn’t seem half so dangerous as they believed once you confronted them. Perhaps there was a chance that this would all be cleared up by morning.

“What about the pictures of you with Charlotte Gardner?” At another inquire from the brunette, Vladimir felt himself stiffen. “Are the two of you not an item? You seem to be pretty friendly for colleagues. And you were definitely placed being intimate several times on the roof of this very hospital, while your father receives chemotherapy treatments. A fine time to be getting cozy with a fling, Mr. Kensley.”

Al at once, his mind went blank.

There was no lie to dismiss here, no way that he could reword things. If Vladimir let this woman’s incriminating statement stand, he would be painted as a villain. Opinions on Charlotte wouldn’t change because, when it came down to it, they were doing the dirty while his father was languishing in bed. It was the first time he felt guilt churning in his gut, and Vladimir was certain that it wouldn’t be the last...but this...this was in front of fifty cameras. Rabid reporters who were hanging on his every word, ready to crucify him.

This was not his playing field at all, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure how to turn things back in his favor.

His reaction was automatic and self-preserving - the words came to him unbidden. “Miss Gardner and I are not together.”

Cameras flashed and a veritable shudder of excitement seems to pass through the crowd. “She’s a valued subordinate, and there were times where my father’s state took an emotional toll on the both of us...However, going forward, we will remain professional in all aspects. My father’s treatment is going well, and I hope to hear only good news of him after my return to Los Angeles.”

Thankfully, as if sensing his distress, a car pulled for him at that exact moment. “I have no further comments,” he managed, before bolting for the safety of the Mercedes and locking himself in. The moment the car peeled off from the curb, the dark-haired man set about forcing him to relax.

Jesus Christ that experience made it onto his list of the top worst things that had ever happened to him. The reporters were monsters - they seemed ready to believe anything anyone threw at them.

He would, Vladimir realized, have to come back and say a proper goodbye to his father. He would go back to the manor for a while and let the reporters chew on the information he’d given. If he was lucky, they would disperse and he’d return at some ungodly hour when they would have all gone.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled a long breath.

He supposed it could have gone worse.

 

**

Charlotte stared at the TV, openmouthed. She didn’t even know why she had turned it on - a whim, really. Some background noise while she packed. She had never really been a fan of stolid silence.

It was a flash of a familiar face that made her stop on a national news channel.

And then the words from his mouth.

She’s a valued subordinate, and there were times where my father’s state took an emotional toll on the both of us...However, going forward, we will remain professional in all aspects. My father’s treatment is going well, and I hope to hear only good news of him after my return to Los Angeles.

Not even an equal. A subordinate.

Charlotte felt sick to her stomach. Was that what Vladimir believed? Really believed? That they had just fallen into one another’s arms in comfort? What happened in Russia? What happened before then?

They were going to remain professional. She knew what that meant well enough. It meant hiding. It meant not touching the man she loved when there was even a single person looking because she was the dirty secret.

Had he simply been lying when he told her he planned to out them in LA? Was it a ploy to get her to let him stifle her all over again? Was he ashamed of her? Didn’t like her temper? Wanted her to be some hoity-toity debutante he could take to fancy parties and show off?

Dear God she was such a fool.

Charlotte was clutching at a pair of Vladimir’s slacks so hard she rent the material. The faint sound of tearing cotton brought her back to the real world, and she tried her best to keep her head from swimming. To keep anger and despair from overwhelming her.

Dropping the clothes she held, Charlotte rose to step from the room. Air. She needed air.

She made her way unsteadily to the main entryway, headed for the kitchen terrace. When she was in the middle of the hallway, the outside motion sensor lights clicked on. A split second later, the door opened and Vladimir stood on the threshold.

Charlotte just stared at him as a terrifying mix of emotions welled in her breast. Desire, fury, regret, and most painful of all, the love that still wouldn’t abate.

“Charlotte.” He spoke her name without an ounce of reproach. “Have you finished packing already?”

Had she finished packing?

“What am I to you?” She demanded, her voice low and dangerous. “Tell me, please, Vladimir, because I’m pretty fucking confused.”

His eyes widened in surprise at the venom in her voice. “What do you mean?”

“That interview” She snapped. “I saw it. Everyone in the state probably saw it. Half the people in the country saw it! They saw you denounce me.”

“Charlotte,” Vladimir’s expression sobered, edging on the severity that she hated so goddamn much. “I was merely explaining-”

“Explaining what?” She returned, her voice trembling. “How we fell all over one another in sorrow? How you used me but you’ll always appreciate me because I’m such a valuable subordinate?”

“Charlotte,” Vladimir raked a hand through his hair, his own ire growing now, “I just don’t think that now is the best time to tell the media about your proclamation.”

“My proclamation?” He probably couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d physically struck her. “Is that what it is now? My proclamation? I stood on your doorstep and poured my tender little heart out to you and you took pity on me, did you?”

Her vision was blurring, and Charlotte knew that she was on the edge of angry tears, but she didn’t care. She had given this man her heart and he crushed it under his foot. Not just to her face, but for the entire country to see. “Charlotte, you came with me to New York and you can’t imagine how much I appreciate that, but we have to go back to Los Angeles, and to put this huge label on something you think you feel-”

“Something I think I feel,” Charlotte parroted flatly, her body numb from shock.

“We’ve spent a few weeks together...very intimately. Then my father got sick and emotions were running high. There’s no telling what will happen when we go back to work in Los Angeles. You might feel differently in a week or a month.”

The tears were falling now. She told him she would wait for him...that she would always be there. “Vladimir I’m telling you that I love you and you just told the entire world that I’m some regretful fling.” She shook her head slowly, disappointed in him - but even more disappointed in herself. “And you don’t even know what you did wrong.”

“Let’s be logical about this,” Vladimir returned sharply, “I know what we need, and right now, discretion is the better policy.”

“No,” Charlotte glared at him, her cheeks wet. “You know what you need...and quite frankly, I don’t fucking care anymore.”

Charlotte turned to the coat closet behind her and yanked it open, pulling out her boots and her purse. She didn’t bother with her luggage - she never wanted to set foot in this house again as long as she lived. “Charlotte.” There was a warning in Vladimir’s voice - but there was also something else. A tinge of hysteria that gave her cruel satisfaction. “Where are you going?”

He moved to block her way before Charlotte could get around him and she reacted instantly. Her palm rang out against his cheek with a loud slap, the sound echoing through the open entryway. In the aftermath, the redhead couldn’t make out his expression - her vision was too blurred with moisture. “If I had done that the first day in your office, we both would have been better off.”

With that, she shoved him out of the way, opening the door and fleeing out into the night.

Charlotte wanted nothing more than to find a dark hole and climb into it. She wanted to sob until all the moisture in her body had dried up and she expired from exhaustion. But she could do none of these things. Not yet.

First, she had to get home, where she belonged.

 

It was an arduous process.  Charlotte hoofed it about two miles beyond the Kensley manor before she finally got to a road where she could catch a cab. The ride to the airport ended up being something astronomical, but she hardly paid attention to numbers on the meter.  A one-way ticket back to Los Angeles at such short notice was also hard to come by. Across that, there were several people that seemed to have recognized her from TV.

Though Charlotte had only seen the tail end of Vladimir’s interview, it, and the news segment that had prompted it were being looped, over and over, on most of the TVs in the airport. The redhead did her best to keep her head down until she boarded her plane, and even then, she cringed away from those who still whispered maliciously under the breaths.

By the time she finally got back to LA, she was exhausted, body and soul. Uncaring of the cost by this juncture, she called a car to take her back to her apartment. Charlotte once thought she’d be coming back here with Vladimir by her side. She imagined how delighted Delilah would be when she told her what they were working towards.

But now, all of that was gone.

It was three am by the time she got back, but she had barely put her key in the lock before it was jerked open and Lila stood on the threshold. She took one look at Charlotte’s beaten form and opened her arms to her closest friend, tears in her own eyes. “Welcome home, babe.”

Charlotte collapsed into her embrace.

 

**

 

Vladimir stayed out on the kitchen terrace until the sun rose. His phone buzzed multiple times in his pocket - until he grew so frustrated that he chucked the damn thing off the balcony just to watch it smash on the paving stones below.

But the gesture didn’t make him feel any better.

Twilight came, and then the first rosy lines of dawn appeared on the horizon.

Vladimir continued to stare at some undetermined point in the distance, inner turmoil consuming him.

She hit him. Slapped him full force. And the way Charlotte had looked at him...as if he were some kind of monster…

This was a mistake. It was all a huge mistake. They just happened to be two people together who had fallen victim to their lusts. Ultimately, the differences that had first separated them couldn’t be overcome. Charlotte didn’t understand his logic. She would never understand his logic.

And God knew he would never understand hers.

So why did he feel this gaping emptiness now that she’d gone? Even worse, guilt consumed him for letting her walk away. Who knew how far she had walked? She could still be walking, for all he knew.

Or she could be on her way back to Los Angeles...where he would eventually have to go to face her.

Christ.

Vladimir was tired. He wanted to sleep...but there was a deep gnawing in his gut that went beyond hunger. That went beyond any discomfort that he’d ever felt...it was almost enough to make him physically ill.

It kept him standing there, on the terrace, long after the sun came up. Long after the flight he’d scheduled to take both he and Charlotte back to Los Angeles took off. He was still leaning against the railing when noon rolled around, wondering what the hell was the matter with him.

When the sun was high in the sky, he caught the glint of a Silver Aston Martin coming down the drive. Of all of them, Ethan was the one who most favored fancy cars - and it was his car that approached. He parked in the drive and strode up to the front door to let himself in. Vladimir wondered if he’d come to visit their father, despite just having gone back to the city the previous day.

But Ethan wasn’t looking to go to the hospital.

No sooner had he laid eyes on Vladimir than he was crossing the kitchen to join him on the terrace. He stood about an arm’s-length away from the dark-haired man, his expression carefully neutral. “Vlad...I’ve been calling you. Everyone has. Where’s your phone?”

“Broken.” He grunted, glancing at the mess of metal and plastic on the stones below.

Ethan merely stared for a moment before opening the briefcase he carried with him. “Here.” He extended a single piece of paper to Vladimir. The taller man glanced over his shoulder, arching a brow.

“What’s that?”

Ethan hesitated a moment before answering. “It’s Charlotte’s written resignation. She’s letting us keep the designs pulling out of both projects she’s working on - in LA and St. Petersburg.”

Vladimir felt as if someone had doused him in ice water. His gut clenched, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

Resignation. She was resigning.

There would be no conversation - no last chance to try to understand one another. When Vladimir did go back to LA, he would see none of Charlotte.

And it hurt.

A pain that went beyond anything physical. Something visceral and deep that made it hard for him to draw a single breath without struggling. “We’re...going to need to tackle this,” Ethan continued lowly, setting the letter on the terrace railing next to Vlad. “Find someone to take her place. Both projects are going to stall without an architect on site.”

The idea of replacing Charlotte somehow seemed even more blasphemous than that of never seeing her again. Almost as if it couldn’t be real. “Vlad...are you listening to me?”

A beat passed before Vladimir answered him, his tone dull. “I’m listening.”

He was listening, but for the first time in his life, he felt no impetus to do. All the worrying, the need to keep moving without rest...it had stopped.

And, for the first time in his life, it occurred to Vladimir Kensley that he had made one hell of a mistake.