Chapter Twelve - Fedor
She looked so beautiful and so dignified as she sat there at the table. It was becoming humanly impossible for him to just stand there and send her away.
Sylvia was in a simple floral dress, with her hair clipped to the back so that some curls escaped and fell delicately on her shoulders. She looked slender and graceful, but her nostrils flared. Sylvia was definitely angry.
But there was nothing else Fedor could do. He had to send her away, for her own well-being. The longer she stayed here with him, the more difficult it would be to keep away from each other. And he couldn’t do it again, not to Will’s daughter, not to a woman who was capable of ruining all his plans. He had been satisfied, if not happy, at least satisfied in his life till she suddenly showed up.
“So where are you sending me?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts about how beautiful she looked. Fedor licked his lips.
“I’ve made arrangements. To my friend Petrov. I trust him, and your father knows him too. He’ll take you in for a few weeks,” Fedor said and crossed his arms across his chest. He watched as her wide brown eyes followed his every movement. He wanted so desperately to just grab her by the shoulders, hold her close to him. But she was brave, she was strong. She wasn’t going to break so easily.
“And where does he live?” she asked.
“Florida. Very far away from New York,” he replied and Sylvia slowly stood up from the chair.
“You should eat something,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, but he was actually desperate to hold her. He wanted to do everything he could to keep her in the room, to continue talking to her. Sylvia smiled, a wide sarcastic smile.
“I don’t want to eat at the house of a man who doesn’t want me around. I know when I’m not wanted somewhere,” she said, smoothening the skirt of her dress. She looked down at her dress as she did it and Fedor took the time to take in his fill of her, of how beautiful she looked, to burn that image of her in his head.
“Sylvia I wouldn’t ever do something to put you in harm’s way. You’ll be safe in Florida,” he said, as quietly and reassuringly as possible. How was he supposed to explain to her that he was sending her away so that he could behave himself? She didn’t deserve him. She deserved better. A normal life with a normal decent man. She was too young to understand what a life with him, a relationship with him could mean.
“I’m just a plaything in all your hands. First in my father’s and then in my captor’s. Now I’m being passed on to another man who will only imprison me, just like you all have. All my life.” Rage and contempt were dripping from Sylvia’s voice as she hurled the words at him. They pinched Fedor.
“I’m sorry if you felt like a captive in my house,” he said and she remained quiet. Her breasts heaved with every deep breath she took in and let out. She was trying to keep her rage in check, she was trying to be well behaved. Her breasts were hidden by the fabric of her dress, but Fedor had no trouble imagining them again. He knew what they looked like, how they tasted. He could still feel her nipples inside his mouth, how sweet they tasted, how beautiful her skin smelt. How tight and warm she was, how quickly he had come inside her. She was like no woman he had ever met before, he was falling hard for her and she needed to leave now.
“I’ll do my bidding, Sir,” Sylvia said sarcastically. “When do you want me to leave?” Fedor clenched his jaw. She was making this more difficult than it had to be.
“In two hours. Pyotr is going with you, he will drop you off at Petrov’s home personally,” Fedor said and Sylvia turned to walk towards the door.
“I should go and pack then. Bye Fedor Volkov, it was nice meeting you,” she said when she turned to look at him at the door.
And then she was gone. He could hear her footsteps on the marble floor again, and with every step she took away from him, Fedor could hear his own heart breaking.
Sylvia Stern had stormed into his life. She fought him, resisted him, seduced him and charmed him and all of a sudden all he wanted to do was tell her everything. This girl, this young girl… he could never have imagined.
Fedor picked up a bowl of cold soup from the table and flung it to the wall behind him, growling in rage.
He heard Pyotr’s footsteps running to the door.
“Go the fuck away. Get out of here!” he screamed in Russian before Pyotr could open the door.
“Boss?” Pyotr said from the other side of the door, Fedor was panting. He was angry with everything, and most of all with himself.
“Just get her out of here. Out of my sight,” he screamed and smashed a glass on the floor next. He heard Pyotr’s retreating footsteps and finally began to calm down.
He needed whiskey, he needed more whiskey.
“Where is my fucking drink?” he thundered, not entirely sure if anybody had heard his command or not. He didn’t care, he just wanted to scream and yell and punch things.
Sylvia Stern was going away. He was sending her away. If luck would have it, he would never see her again. This is what was the right thing to do, for her sake. For the first time in his life, he was doing something that wasn’t selfish and he was doing it for her, because he knew that one more day with her and he would be so pathetically in love that he would never be able to turn this thing around.