Chapter 62 Episode 62

It’s cold. Which is what woke me up in the first place. “What’s your name?” he asks instead of answering my question. “Your name, dear,” he asks again, softening his tone. “Can you remember it?” “Of course I can,” I snap. “It’s Jessa Gilmore.” “And do you remember what happened just before you fainted?” I open my mouth to respond, but then realize… I actually can’t remember what happened. My mind is fuzzy, the memories just out of reach. The man must read the confusion on my face, because he starts to say, “It’s okay. This is all perfectly normal after—” “Where’s Anton?” I ask, trying to wriggle away from the man’s grasp. My body feels heavy, sluggish. But I don’t feel any pain. Well, not pain, exactly. Just discomfort from the cold instrument that I can still feel at my side. “What is that thing?” I demand. “What are you checking for?” “When was your last period?” the man asks with a grim professionalism. I frown and cross my arms. “That is a very personal question.” “I don’t care. You’re not my doctor,” I snap. “Where the hell is Anton?” “Right here,” Anton says, striding through the door. His eyes meet mine and I feel an immediate sense of calm engulf me. “Dr. Spegal, can you give us a minute?” The balding man leaves and Anton sits down on the edge of my bed. His hand is inches from mine. The instinct to reach out and touch him is something I have to physically suppress. “Not sure,” I admit. “I woke up in your room with no recollection of how I got here.” “The old guy asked me the same question,” I say. “Who is he?” “A Bratva doctor. He’s been working with my family for two generations.” “Oh. Okay.” I look up at him. He’s watching me carefully, like he’s concerned. But there’s something else there that I can’t quite put my finger on. “Are you gonna tell me what happened?” I ask. The moment I ask the question, I feel a strange sense of déjà vu. Like I’ve been here before. Not long ago. Then there’s a flash of something. A memory. “Wait… I was in a room…” “The bar,” he offers me. I frown, feeling an oncoming sense of dread. “Do I even want to remember what happened?” Maybe it’s his voice. Maybe it’s the expression on his face. Whatever it is, it triggers something. I hear the gunshot in my memory. I see another body hit the ground. Another man left dead in Anton Stepanov’s wake. “You killed him,” I gasp. “Your own father-in-law.” “He was asking for war. I gave him what he wanted,” Anton says grimly. I shake my head to dislodge the remaining images. The tense, twisting conversation that preceded the murder. The shock on the pale boy’s face. More horrible memories to suppress. As if I didn’t have enough of those already. “It had to be done, Jessa. This is the underworld. We live by different rules here. I ended this war before it started.” “Are you trying to say you saved lives today?” I spit, cringing away from him even though he’s made no attempt to touch me. “I don’t expect you to understand. You are not from this world.” “And I’m glad about that. I wouldn’t want to be a part of your life. Not for anything.” The silence feels oppressive. Anton stares at me, and I wonder if I’ve succeeded in hurting him. “Does that really surprise you?” I scoff. His gray eyes are watchful, pinned on me. “It might… if I believed you.” “People lie to themselves all the time.” “And what exactly am I lying to myself about?” He c***s his head to the side. At the same time, I realize he’s touching my hand. His fingers brush against my knuckles, and I feel an involuntary warmth spread through my body. “How you feel about me,” he murmurs. I tense under his hand and of course he feels it. But he doesn’t comment. He just continues to stare at me with those intense gray eyes. “I don’t feel anything for you,” I snap. I pull my hand out from under his grasp. “I… I can’t feel anything for you,” I clarify. “I won’t.” “Because of who you are. Because of what you’ve done.” “Is that the only reason?” “It’s reason enough!” I snap. “You’ve killed two men right in front of me. One used to be your father-in-law.” “And what about that frightens you the most?” “Isn’t it obvious?” I ask. “Pretend it’s not and tell me anyway.” How can he be so calm? I wonder. He’s looking at me like I’m the problem that needs solving. “You killed your wife!” I blurt out clumsily. He doesn’t seem bothered by the accusation. Just shakes his head sadly. “I did not.” “You’re still sticking to that story?” “It’s not a story; it’s the truth,” he says. “Why would I lie?” “Because people lie to themselves all the time,” I say, parroting his words back to him. His mouth tips in a barely decipherable smirk. “I’m not most people.” I groan. “Okay, then you’re lying to try and convince me that you’re not the kind of man that you so clearly are.” He snorts. “I don’t waste my time pretending to be someone I’m not. If I had killed Marina, then I would say so.” “Despite the war it would have created with your father-in-law?” “I’m not scared of a war. I’m not scared of the things I can control.” “You can’t control everything, Anton,” I tell him softly. “You can’t control me.” His eyes soften somewhat. “I’m not trying to, Jessa. Which is why I’m going to tell you the truth.” An alarm bell sounds in my head. “So you haven’t told me the truth?” “I meant I’m going to tell you the whole truth. About Marina and me.” This is what I want. At least, it’s what I thought I wanted. But now, faced with his willingness to share his past with me, I’m scared. But there’s no going back now. So I swallow hard, summon up all my bravery, and rasp, “Tell me.” His eyes flash silver, like a pair of full moons on some alien planet. “You know how we ended up together,” he says. “It was a marriage of convenience. Both our fathers planned the thing when we were still teenagers. I’d resigned myself to the fact that I was marrying Marina. I assumed it would be easy enough. She was an attractive woman; she understood my life. On paper, it was perfect.” Even knowing how Anton feels about Marina now, jealousy swirls inside of me. I squash it down. She’s dead. What’s there to be jealous of? “Then we got married and I realized how naïve I’d been.” Anton shakes his head. “She had a temper. She was controlling and possessive and prone to fits of jealousy. If a woman so much as looked at me, she would fly off the handle. She went ballistic with a maid one day because she walked in and found us talking in the garden.” “Did she have anything to be worried about?” I ask. Do I have anything to be worried about? feels like the more accurate question. The amount of women who must want him, who must throw themselves at him… “No, and it didn’t matter regardless. I didn’t consider ours a real marriage. From day one, it was forced, unnatural, and filled with mines I needed to avoid. I lived my life and she lived hers.” “Is that a decision you made alone?” “I tried to do it differently in the beginning,” he tells me. “I tried to live as husband and wife. I took her out for fancy dinners. Bought her lavish presents. Gave her anything she could possibly think to ask for. But nothing was enough for her. She resented my absences. She hated that my staff answered to me first. She questioned my every move and decision. I wasn’t sure if her goal was to make me hate her or to try to control me. Either way, she only got one out of two.” “Was she that bad?” I hear myself asking, leaning into his story. “I didn’t think so. Then I found the maid’s body in the dumpster.” I recoil in horror. “How did you find out it was her?” He looks like he doesn’t want to say. For my sake, I’m sure. Given what I’ve seen him do, I know Anton doesn’t have a weak stomach. “Her name was carved into the poor woman’s forehead.” I feel like I might puke or faint again. Maybe both. “Oh my God…” “After that, I warned Marina to stay the f**k away from me. She just took my anger to mean that I was f*****g the maid and was heartbroken over losing her.” “My heart doesn’t break so easily, Jessa. It wouldn’t matter either way, but I never laid a finger on that woman,” he says. “That was the last straw, though. I decided then that I had to divorce her. She would do nothing but bring me down and cost me allies and followers.” He falls silent for a moment. I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch him, to comfort him. To be there for him the way I want to be.