“Perhaps so,” I said. “But it’s done. Did you know?”
I knew the answer before he gave it to me, but I still needed him to confirm it.
He shook his head, and I felt a small pressure lifting from my chest.
Catalina was close to Mikhail.
Closer to him than to either Damien or me.
It was obvious even from the beginning, and though most of the time I didn’t mind their closeness, there were times like this, when the thought that she might have shared something so personal with him—only him—felt almost unbearable.
“She’s going to be okay,” I said to him, cupping the back of her head with my hand and holding her to me.
He nodded, a shadow casting over in his eyes. “I know. Why don’t you talk to her? I’ll see her … later.”
I didn’t respond to that. I didn’t know what to say. Mikhail had always been the most observant out of the three of us. The most silent.
He wouldn’t have said anything, but it was obvious he knew more than he let on.
Mikhail walked out the door and closed the door gently behind him.
I didn’t know how long I lay there in bed with her, but my arms were getting a little numb when I felt her move against me.
I looked down and took in her face, watched as her eyes shifted from one side to the other under her lids before she slowly opened her eyes, the brown irises dazed and soft from her sleep.
I didn’t look away.
A small smile began to form around her lips, and my heart felt tight—in the best way possible—that her first instinct was to smile at me.
Then she seemed to remember all that had happened because her skin turned pale, and she stiffened around me.
I tightened my hold on her when I felt she was trying to escape.
She let out a small sigh. “Nikolay.”
“What, princess?”
“Let go.”
I shook my head. “Never.”
And that was true. I was never letting her go, no matter what.
“Baby, talk to me,” I said.
She looked off to the side, and her face was closed off. “What’s there to talk about?”
I cupped her chin and directed her face toward mine, waiting until she looked at me. “I think there are a lot of things that need to be talked about. Starting with your infertility. How do you know?”
My eyes came down to her throat, watching it move when she swallowed. “Father had it confirmed. He needed to make sure I would be the best wife possible.”
The last words were tinged in bitterness.
I nodded, already having suspected that.
“How … how did he react when he found out?”
She moved her hand up to her shoulder, pulling on the sleeve until it bared her shoulder. Then she pressed the pad of my finger on the raised skin there—an old scar.