chapter 10

I’ve been staying in my penthouse in the city, keeping my distance to avoid getting tangled up in emotions I never intended to feel. Since the wedding, things have changed. I find myself thinking about her at random moments. The defiance in her eyes when she tells me I have no right to control her life. The stubborn set of her chin when she demands I fight my own battles, leaving her out of it.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her, but I do. Too often.

The worst part? I wasn’t even angry when she called me a hypocrite for doing exactly what her father did, only with more power. I should’ve been, but all I could think about was how she masked her fear and stood toe to toe with me, unflinching. No one’s ever done that before. Not even Alexey, who came crawlingwith an apology after today’s meeting to avoid the inevitable consequences.

But Ana got under my skin. She told me shehatesme. Those three words echoed in my mind all night, twisting and turning until I couldn’t sleep. Why the hell do I care? I’m not in the business of making people like me. I don’t need approval. I need power. Control.

I close my eyes, leaning back against the leather seat as the car speeds through the city.

It doesn’t matter. She’s Nikolai Petrov’s daughter, after all. A pawn in a bigger game. I’m not interested in her opinion of me.

The car stops in front of the house, and I open my eyes. With a sigh, I step out and head to the front door.

“Welcome, sir,” Janet greets me as she opens the door.

I hand her my bag and jacket. “I don’t need anything tonight,” I say, waving off her offer for food. “It’s late.”

She nods and disappears as I make my way through the foyer, fatigue settling in after the long day. When I reach the living room, I see someone curled up on the couch—a small figure, tucked into a fetal position, buried in the cushions.

Ana.

I take a step closer, curiosity pulling me in before I can stop myself. She’s sleeping, her face half-buried in the armrest, legs folded under her body like she’s trying to protect herself from something. The room is warm enough, so why does she look so small, so cold?

I click my tongue softly, considering waking her up. Janet could do it. I could leave her here and forget this ever happened. But I hesitate.

Her hair is spilled in wild curls across the cushion, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. She sighs softly, lips slightly parted as she breathes. Something stirs inside me—something I don’t want to acknowledge—as I take in the peacefulvulnerability on her face. There’s a strange beauty to her in this moment, something I hadn’t noticed before.

I reach out, my hand moving of its own accord, and then stop, yanking it back like I’ve been burned.

What the hell am I doing?

This is the woman who despises me, the woman I should be indifferent toward. So why do I suddenly feel this pull toward her, this strange sense of…something?

I shake my head, disturbed by the foreign thoughts creeping into my mind.

“Sir,” Janet’s voice cuts through the silence, startling me.

“I’m going to bed,” I say quickly, stepping away from Ana as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong. “Wake Mrs. Orlov.”

“Of course, sir.”

Without another word, I make my way up the stairs, gripping the banister tighter than necessary, my mind replaying the moment over and over. What’s wrong with me? There’s no reason I should be thinking about her this way.

Frustration bubbles up inside me. I head to the shower, turning the water hotter than usual, hoping it’ll burn away the thoughts swirling in my head. I scrub my hair, my body, anything to feel clean again—anything to erase the image of Ana’s sleeping face from my mind.

But the more I try to wash it away, the more it lingers, like a stain I can’t remove.

And that irritates me more than anything else.