Even now, all these years later, I felt a jab of guilt when remembering her speaking that word.
Undignified was the very worst thing anyone could be in Nora Carmelli’s eyes, and I’d sworn I would never be that, carried that vow with me to this very day.
She had led me away from the door, and I could still remember looking up at her, her dark eyes bright with disappointment and compassion. She’d reached down, caressed my cheek.
“There’s no reason to huddle at doors, Daniela,” she’d said.
“But I want to know,” I’d replied.
“I know, my darling. And you can.”
I’d brightened. “How?”
“You just have to learn how to listen,” she’d said.
She’d spent the next twenty years teaching me how to listen.
And I’d learned.
I no longer had to sit outside doors, hover in places I shouldn’t be to learn things others probably didn’t want me to know. But still…to be dismissed like that.
Frustrated, I turned and walked across the lush grass, moving to the next rosebush in search of that elusive calm.
“Asshole,” I muttered.
“What was that, dear?” Sergei said.
I didn’t jump. I wanted to, but my pride wouldn’t let me.
Instead, I kept my back to him and focused on the flowers, though I was acutely aware of him in a way that made me wonder how he managed to sneak up on me. And determined he’d never do it again.
“Why are you here? Aren’t you busy?” I asked when I turned, not bothering to attempt to do anything but say exactly how I felt.
“My wife is here. Where else would I be?” he asked.
The sun glinted off his dark hair, and shadowed his face, but I still saw the easy grin on it, still felt the tightness of desire that even my anger couldn’t push away.
“We’re alone. You can drop the pretense,” I said curtly.
“Pretense?” he asked innocently.
My anger, the anger I had thought I had such a good grip on, flared, loosening some of my control.
“You don’t think I saw that?” I asked through tightly clenched teeth.
He stepped closer. “Saw what?”
“The way you were trying to assert your dominance. Show Michael that you’re in charge.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t need to assert anything. My status has never been in question.”
“Are you certain about that?” I asked. I was certain, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t press, that I wasn’t above trying to turn this around on him so he felt at least a little of the tumult and discomfort I did.
His eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment I wondered if I had let my anger get the better of me.
“Careful, Daniela,” he said, his voice taking on an edge. “I would have thought Santo taught you better.”
“If you’re so concerned about what my father may or may not have taught me, perhaps you shouldn’t have insisted on going through with this charade,” I said.
“When Maxim brought the terms to you and your father, did they feel like a charade?”
I went silent, thinking back to that day, the man who had calmly presented his terms, terms that had left us no options at all. Nothing about that meeting had been a charade.
“If they had, would I be here?” I finally said, some of my anger deflating.
“And last night? Was that a charade?” he said.
I slumped, but his words pulled me back upright, and I narrowed my eyes at him, shocked, more than a little hurt that he would throw last night back at me. His little smile was gone, but I could see he knew what he was doing. Turning the tables on me yet again, wrestling away what little control I had. But I wouldn’t make it easy.
“Last night was me living up to the terms of my agreement,” I said.
That smile came back in a flash, genuine and then gone. “Offering up your virtue was going above and beyond, don’t you think?” he said.
“It might be if I had virtue to offer,” I replied.
That got a reaction from him, a little flash of surprise, just as I had intended. One I planned to capitalize on. “I’m damaged goods, Sergei. You should send me back,” I said, issuing a dare of my own. “Santo’s good little girl isn’t so good.”
My heart thundered as I waited for him to speak, to do something. But he’d gone still, his expression unreadable, his body unmoving. Then, finally, he spoke.
“So you’re not a virgin?” he asked, his voice deep, maddeningly unreadable.
“No,” I said, my emotions warring.
A man like Sergei wouldn’t be able to abide that. There were strict rules to be followed, and women like me, bosses’ daughters, were expected to save themselves. It was unthinkable that a boss’s men would touch his daughter, even look at her, and most men couldn’t bear the thought of someone else having been with their wives. It was an ideal way for me to get out of this, because Sergei wouldn’t be able to handle it either. That, too, should have made me happy. Him sending me away would free me from this. It would also mean I wouldn’t be with him, and I didn’t know how I felt about that.