“She paints?”
“She used to,” I say. “In another life. Back when she was with my brother and she smiled all the time.”
“Does she have someone?” Willow asks tentatively. “Is she happy?”
“I want her to be happy,” I say. “But I know she’ll never love anyone like she loved Pavel. It’s more likely she has dozens of lovers dotted all over the continent. One for every day of the week with plenty to spare.”
“Sounds like the life,” she says, giving me a coy smirk. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I ask.
“You’ve spent your entire life as don chasing after revenge,” she points out. “What do you do now that you have it?”
The smile drops from my face. Some things cannot be imagined. They must be lived.
Revenge is one of those things.
“I don’t stop being don just because I killed Belov,” I growl. “In any case, I have two Bratvas to run instead of one.”
She frowns just like I am. Just like that, the spell of normalcy withers. We both drop the pretense of our fantasy. “So you plan on taking over after Belov?”
“It makes sense. Our son will inherit both,” I say. “I might as well make the transition easy for him.”
She studies me carefully, a curious look passing over her face.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I say.
She takes a deep breath. “What if I stake my claim on the Mikhailov throne?”
I weigh it for a moment, but there isn’t much to truly consider. The answer is simple. Straightforward. “Then I’d hand over the reins to you.”
Her eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
She frowns, suspicion narrowing her eyes. “Are you only saying that because you know I have no real interest in leading a Bratva?”
“I don’t know that.”
She sighs. “You know exactly that. I just want to live a normal life, Leo. Somewhere quiet where I can raise my children.”
“Children?”
She looks away from me awkwardly. “I just meant—forget it. It was a slip. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Are you sure about that?”
She rolls her eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I thought I did. I’m going to continue to be don. I still have a Bratva to run, and I still have ambitions where the Solovev dynasty is concerned.”
“Ambition,” she repeats softly. “Every man’s undoing.”
“I disagree. It’s what raises us up. Ambition is a good thing.”
“So the Solovevs will grow?”
“In size and power,” I confirm.
“And Jax and Gaiman?”
“They’ll be by my side while I execute my vision.”
“What if one day they want to leave?”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know. What if one of them meets a girl? What if they get married and have children of their own?”
“They can do all that and still be by my side.”
“And if they choose not to?” she presses.
“Then they’re free to go. They’re not my prisoners, Willow. They’re my Vors. And more importantly, they’re my friends.”
She nods. “Right. Friends. Maybe the three of you can reinstate old traditions.”
She’s going somewhere with this, I’m just not sure where. She doesn’t make me wait long, though. Silence has always been her undoing.
“Tell me,” she says, running tentative fingers over her silverware, “when’s the last time you went to Vixen Pond? Or was it Vixen Palace?”
I sigh and press my head to the table for a moment. “That’s why I tell Jax to keep his mouth shut.”
She smiles. “I’m glad he opened up to me.”
“We were young,” I tell her. “And horny. It was the best way we knew how to celebrate. In fact, Jax still celebrates like that from time to time. Gaiman got tired of the scene a few years ago.”
“And you?”
I smile. “What is the answer you want from me, Willow?”
“The truth,” she says. “That’s all.”
“I enjoyed myself when I was a young man. That’s all I’ll say.”
Her face sours just a little, though she doesn’t say anything.
“But after Pavel’s death, things changed for me,” I say. “Indulging in alcohol and women wasn’t as fulfilling anymore. Things changed for good. They’ve never gone back.”
She looks relieved, but a ghost of worry still lingers over her face. “Well, that’s… interesting.”
I lean over and grab the arm of her chair. In one swift movement, I pull her over so she’s sitting right next to me. I place my hand on the slit running up her dress so that I’m touching her bare skin again. She’s got goosebumps.
“Jealous again?”
She frowns. “I’m not jealous.”
“Really?” I ask. “Because you did a brilliant imitation of it before you knew who Ariel really was.”
“What about you?” she demands, blatantly changing the subject. “You get jealous, too.”
“Give me one instance.”
She arches a brow. “When I walked down here naked and you practically beat the waiter for looking at me.”
She isn’t wrong. I’m still tempted to gouge the man’s eyes out. “That was quite the stunt you pulled.”
“You thought I wouldn’t do it,” she says. “So of course I had to.”
“Stubborn as ever.”
She smiles. “What about me?”
“What do you mean?”
“In our game of pretend,” she says. “Where am I? What am I doing?”
“You’re right here, of course,” I tell her. “Leading the Bratva with me. Raising our children.”
Now it’s her turn to pick out that one little word. “Children?”
“We’ll have more, of course. A dozen, maybe. I’ve always wanted to be able to field a whole sports team of my own.”
“Oh, is that so?” she laughs, trying not to smile too much. “And was I consulted about any of that?”
“Sure, but it was hardly necessary. I know exactly what you want.”
“And you think that what I want is more children?”
“No, what you want is me,” I say slowly, meeting her eyes. “Go ahead… deny it.”
She stares at me, her expression growing serious. I can see the whirlwind of emotions running around inside her head. She’s an overthinker, and right now, her brain is on overdrive.
“Leo… I can’t be the wife you want me to be.”
“You’ll learn.”
“That’s just it: I don’t want to learn to be a doormat. I did that once and I vowed I’d never do it again.”
“I don’t want or expect you to be a doormat wife, Willow,” I tell her. “I want the opposite. I want a queen.”
She frowns. “Okay, sure, that sounds very nice and flattering and all. But I know why you married me. And I want to be with a man who’s madly in love with me. Who wants me as much as I want him. This relationship we have… it’s always going to be one-sided. And I’m not sure I can live with that.”
“That’s what you believe?”
She sighs. “We don’t need to beat around the bush. You married me for my last name. But I can’t just be in a marriage of convenience, Leo. That’s not me. I want something real.”
I open my mouth to tell her just how wrong she is. How she might have started as a pawn in a game, but she’s become so much more. Something I dream about. Something I crave. Something I can’t see myself living without ever again.
“I—”