by Bea Paige
“You think this is your fault, don’t you?”
“It is,” he responds tightly, still gripping hold of my wrists.
“You aren’t responsible for their actions.”
“Her love for me has forced her to do these things.”
“No. Her jealousy has done that. Love is inherently giving, Erik. It might be painful sometimes, but it isn’t selfish. Love has always been used as an excuse to perform the most heinous acts, but that isn’t love. It can’t be. Don’t be fool enough in thinking that her love for you has caused her to act this way.”
“Viktor used her to get at you, us. Why?”
“Power, control, ownership. Who knows what goes on in his head?”
Erik’s hands grip a hold of me tighter, his thumbs pressing into the thumping pulse of my wrists as though checking I’m still alive, still actually here with him.
“But I want to own you too, Rose. Doesn’t that make me the same as Viktor? Her?”
I shake my head fiercely. “No. You are nothing like them.”
“You’re wrong,” he responds gritting his jaw and sliding his hands up my arms, gripping my shoulders, his fingers curling into my flesh. “I look at you and I want to own you. I want to control your desire and eek out your pain and pleasure. I want to bottle it up and binge on it for days on end. I want your submission, Rose. I want to hear the whimpers of your lust as you beg for release. I want you at my mercy… Goddamn it.”
Letting out a soft laugh, the tenseness I’ve held in my shoulders relaxes at his words. Honestly, it’s good to hear them and rather than striking fear in my heart, all I feel is a sense of belonging, relief.
“Tell me what you feel when Ivan and Anton touch me, Erik.”
His eyes snap to mine at the question, searching my face.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. There is nothing he could say that would stop me from caring about him. Nothing.
“On the surface, lust, Rose. It turns me the fuck on. I might want to dominate you but there is nothing sexier than watching those two bastards give you everything you deserve…”
A smile pulls up my lips at that, perhaps there’s a little of the voyeur in Erik too.
“But beneath that,” he continues, “Envy, because unlike me they’re no longer inhibited by their fucked up pasts… Not in the same way I still am.”
“And,” I persist, knowing there’s more. There must be.
“Happiness, Rose.” He laughs at that, a little surprised by it. “I’m happy they have you. I’m happy I have you. That isn’t a feeling I’ve experienced for a very, very long time.”
“Now answer me this; would you destroy that happiness for selfish reasons? If you thought you could have me all to yourself, would you destroy what we have to get it?” I’m taking a risk here asking this question, but my gut tells me he would never betray his best friends. It isn’t in his nature, in any of theirs.
“No, never.” He lets out a long breath, relief softening the tenseness in his jaw. “Never,” he repeats vehemently, searching my gaze, needing me to believe him.
“Then you are the man I’ve always believed you to be; loyal, courageous, strong. You can own me in the bedroom, Erik. You can control me and dominate me to satisfy your needs, my own but that isn’t the same as wanting ownership of every part of me including my feelings for your best friends, or my life. You’re giving by nature, accepting of us as a whole. You’re selfless not selfish. You’re nothing like Ms Hadley or Viktor. Nothing,” I repeat, hammering my point home.
For a beat Erik just looks at me with admiration and awe. Then he slides his hands over my shoulders and up my neck, cupping the back of my head before pressing his forehead against mine. “Thank you, Rose,” he utters, his fingers gripping onto my hair.
“I’m only telling you the truth,” I respond, smiling against his lips. “We promised each other in that glass cage that we’d always be truthful, and I will keep that promise. I will remind you everyday of the man I know you are if that’s what it takes for you to shred this self-doubt. When you look in the mirror, I want you to see what I see and not the image of a man who once had the power to inflict such violence. You’re a warrior, Erik, just like Ivan, just like Anton, just like me. That’s why we belong together. That’s why I…”
My breath is snatched from my lips, swallowing the words I was so ready to utter as Erik crushes his lips against mine. He steals my heart and sears my soul with his kiss. Like two warriors, battle worn and weary, we hold onto each other finding strength and a home in each other’s arms. When we pull apart, both of us are ready to face the oncoming war.
Chapter 9
Ivan
Rose joins me in Svetlana’s studio a few hours after I left her. Erik carries her into the room, Anton following them in with a tray of food. Despite having every intention of heading to the kitchen to request supper from Fran, I’d found myself returning here, a nagging sense of wrongness cleaving a hole in my chest despite Anton’s efforts to get me to return to the parlour and the comforting arms of Rose.
Now he’s returned bringing them both with him.
“I brought food. We’ve already eaten,” Anton explains.
“I’m not hungry,” I reply. There’s no way I can consume food in this room, has he forgotten what happened here? Because I sure as fuck haven’t. My mind has been going into overdrive thinking about what Viktor said, what Ms Hadley had done to Rose on his behest.
“Ivan, you should eat…” Erik begins, then stops when he sees my fingers graze over the darkened spot on the floor beneath me. We look at one another, and I feel a dark oppressive cloud looming overhead. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this way, and I hate the fact I’m the one to break first.
“Leave the tray outside, Anton,” I growl, casting my gaze downwards, not willing to argue the point further.
I don’t look up as Erik approaches me, Rose now supported by his side. Right now, I can’t look at the woman I put in danger because of my love for her, our love for her. She isn’t safe with us. Viktor made a promise I know he has every intention of keeping. He’s nothing if not a man of his word.
He always keeps his promises.
My thoughts stray to Svetlana and the day I found her bleeding out on this very floor.
Broken, ruined, dying.
So much death. So much pain.
Viktor had always been supportive of our relationship, the perfect prima ballerina and her talented husband, but it came at a price. Over the years of our marriage, he flaunted us to his colleagues and friends, doted on Svetlana and yet… I swallow hard, bile rising up my throat.
There had always been a measure of control with Viktor. He had no hold over me other than the fact I’d known him most of my life, but he had used the both of us as a tool to impress people. In the beginning, I’d gone along with it because I was too preoccupied with the highlife as a world renowned ballet dancer and everything that comes with it; the adoration, the women. But I also remember the arguments between Viktor and Svetlana when she’d refused to attend some dinner or other event he insisted we went along to. I always stuck up for my wife, supported her need to hide away from the public eye. It’s why I bought Browlace Manor eventually, to get away from the circus Viktor had always wanted to drag us into. Towards the end of her life, Svetlana refused Viktor more and more…
My chest tightens as panic seeps into my veins.
Could Viktor have played a part in her death too? Could Ms Hadley? It’s not beyond the realms of reality that they had. We know what Ms Hadley is capable of and Viktor has shown that he’s twisted enough to fuck with other people’s lives. Svetlana might have slit her own wrists but he’s always had a way with words. He’s fucking cruel. Anton can attest to that. Add my infidelity to the mix and the fact that, for the most part, I wasn’t home much towards the end, there was plenty of opportunity for Viktor and Ms Hadley to mess with her head. I was too busy fucking other women whilst Svetlana’s mind went to dark places
.
Fuck!
My fist slams into the hardwood of the floor. I wasn’t there for her. I didn’t protect her. I was a fucking bastard just as much as Viktor.
“I’m so sorry, Svetlana,” I say, my hand pressing against the stain of her blood.
The days that followed her suicide might be a blur, but that night is seared in my memory. I’ll never forget it. Even now, even after all this time, that night is as clear to me as the dark stain of blood beneath my fingers now. There was so much blood. I remember the sheer and utter disbelief seeing her lying on the floor, her white dress stained red, and the blind panic that followed. I didn’t know how to help her. Perhaps I could’ve saved her?
Then I remember the gut-wrenching, soul-stripping pain and the guilt. The years and years of guilt. There’s no way I’d survive Rose’s death. The threat of harm makes me want to rip the world to shreds. I should’ve let Anton strangle his father. I should’ve fucking helped.
“You didn’t come back, Ivan,” Rose says softly, her bare feet just inches from my fingers. She stands on the periphery of the stain, the creamy skin of her ankles in stark contrast to the darkened wood.
“I needed a moment. I’m sorry,” I apologise, hearing the hurt in her voice.
“May I have a chair please, Anton?” she asks my best friend.
I keep my head lowered as he moves about the room. A few seconds later, Rose is seated before me, Erik and Anton by her side.
“Look at me, Ivan. Tell me what you’re thinking,” she presses, seeking out my darkest thoughts, never afraid to face them head on.
Only her, only Rose can pull me out of the shadows. I raise my gaze to meet hers, flinching at the sorrow I see within her eyes. In the half-light of the room I notice the dark circles surrounding her meadow-green orbs and the exhaustion that has become a constant in her life now. She may be mentally strong, but she’s physically weak and my instinct is to protect her from my dark thoughts and the pain that voicing them might inflict.
“Ivan, talk to us,” she insists, worry pulling her lips into a frown that makes my heart sink like a fucking rock. As much as I want to protect her from the truth, I know I can’t, shouldn’t.
“It’s Svetlana,” I say, running my fingers over the stain. I can almost feel the warmth of her blood as though she’s right here beside me bleeding out and not buried in the grounds of Browlace. Two years ago she’d died right here and until today I’d believed it had been solely my fault. Her actions caused by my infidelity. Now, I’m almost certain that I wasn’t the only one responsible for her death.
“It’s just us, Ivan. Don’t be afraid,” she urges, reaching for me.
I feel the gentle touch of her fingers against my lowered head. Her presence gives me the courage to voice my fears. Heartache and pain overridden by a deep sense of loyalty to the woman who changed everything for me, for us.
“What if…” I find it impossible to voice my fears as a memory of that time flashes before me. Curled up on her side, blood drenching her white dress. Her skin so pale, her lips blue. Her eyes lifeless.
“What if,” I choke out, not able to finish my train of thought. I look up at Rose pleadingly.
“Ms Hadley and Viktor had something to do with her death…” she finishes, always able to voice the most difficult of things.
Her words and my thoughts thicken the air around us, and now they’ve been voiced I’m more convinced than ever that they’re true. For the second time today, the four of us are shocked into silence.
“They wouldn’t…” Erik says, eventually breaking the silence. His voice trails off as I look at him. He knows as well as I do that his mother is capable of the worst kind of evil and that Viktor is just as bad. Rose has a scar on her shoulder to prove it and Viktor has practically admitted to his part in the whole fucking thing.
“Why?” Anton asks. “Erik’s her son, and as incomprehensible as it is to us, we all know that Ms Hadley’s hate towards Rose is because she can’t bear to lose him. Svetlana wasn’t Erik’s, she was yours, Ivan. And my father? We all know he’s a twisted fuck, but what would he gain from Svetlana’s death? He doted on her, or at least it seemed that way?” he questions me, doubt spreading across his face like ink in water.
“Don’t you see? Ms Hadley has been a surrogate mother to Ivan since he was a child as much as she was to both of you. Viktor has been in Ivan’s life for just as long. Over the years Ms Hadley’s love had twisted into something ugly, and we now know that Viktor seemingly held all the strings, like some fucked-up puppet master. Why, I don’t know, but he did, does,” she corrects herself.
“Because he likes to control everyone, and everything. He always has,” I sigh, everything falling into place. He lost control of Svetlana and as a result she became worthless to him.
“Yes,” Rose agrees heavily. “You loved Svetlana, Ivan, and because of that she became a target. We have no proof other than gut instinct, but if we’re right and Ms Hadley murdered Erik’s mother, then it isn’t too much of a stretch that she would be capable of killing Svetlana too, or at the very least be coerced into pushing her into suicide by a man we know has the capability of making Ms Hadley do whatever the fuck he wants. I don’t trust that man anymore than I trust Ms Hadley.”
“So you’ve come to the same conclusion too?” I ask Rose, my heart hardening with the knowledge. Rose might not know all the details about how Viktor had used Svetlana and I to progress his own businesses or that, towards the latter years of our marriage, how Svetlana had refused to kowtow to Viktor’s demands, but she’s smart. Rose knew of our marriage, we were the darlings of the ballet world and in the public eye a great deal. I’m betting that if we were to search hard enough Viktor would be in the background of some of those photographs taken of Svetlana and I at the many social events he dragged us along too. He liked the notoriety of being seen with us, just as much as all the other fuckers who used us to their own gain.
“I believe somehow between them, it’s a very real possibility they could’ve had a hand in her death. We all know she was vulnerable because of what you...”
“What I did to her. It’s okay, Rose, you can say it. I’m not innocent in this either. I’m just as fucking guilty.”
I didn’t protect her from Viktor. I didn’t protect her from Ms Hadley, and I sure as fuck didn’t protect her from myself.
Her shoulders sag with the weight of that truth. “I’m sorry, Ivan. I’m so, so sorry. When you’re in a dark place a few twisted words can do a lot of damage...”
“Fuck!” Erik exclaims, dropping to his knees beside me. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, hauling me against his side. Anton joins us, falling to his knees too.
“I’m sorry, brother,” he murmurs, holding on tight.
More lies, more deceit, more fucking secrets.
The more I think about it, the more I know it to be true. I have no evidence. I have nothing concrete that will confirm the worst possible scenario, but I know in my godforsaken heart that Ms Hadley and Viktor had a hand in killing my wife, and the only way to know for sure is to ask. Because although this house is filled to the brim with the lies Ms Hadley has weaved, although it creaks and groans, a mournful lament to us, the men who live inside its walls, it can’t tell us what we need to know. Svetlana’s memory, and the truth of her death is buried within the foundations, haunting the rooms she passed through when alive and staining the floor beneath us now. All of it is a constant reminder of the violence of her death and the secrets and lies that hide the truth from us.
In a moment of clarity, I know what must be done. If we are to move on from this, we need to confront Ms Hadley before it’s too late. We may be walking into a trap, some kind of far-fetched plan to destroy us all, but I know myself enough to know that I won’t rest until I find out the truth one way or the other.
But there’s something we must do first.
Reaching into my pocket I pull out my flip-knife. It’s the same one I found Svetlana with. T
he same one I’ve used to cut my own skin over the years. Beside me, Erik and Anton withdraw slightly, uncertain as to where this is going, but they’ll understand soon enough. I flip the blade open, running my finger over the blunt side.
“When we were kids, we made a pact. Do you remember it?” I ask Anton and Erik.
They both nod solemnly, understanding dawning. We had been fourteen, drunk and high on weed after Viktor had ridiculed Anton in front of his colleagues. As I recall, Anton had skipped out of his home dragging Erik along with him and met me at the local park. He told us what happened between lungsful of marijuana and mouthfuls of vodka. That night we became blood-brothers bonding over heartfelt words and the illicit taste of alcohol and drugs.
“What was it, the pact?” Rose asks, interrupting my thoughts. Her gaze flicks between the three of us and the knife. Her expression is curious, though a little fearful. I don’t believe she’s afraid of me hurting her, but more that I might hurt myself.
“We vowed to remain loyal, to always have each other’s backs and to never let anyone come between us,” Erik murmurs, watching me carefully. He tenses beside me, and even though I know he understands what’s about to happen here, he’s still readying himself to grab the knife should I try to do anything stupid. Always the soldier, the protector in so many ways. Which makes it so fucking sad that he wasn’t able to protect himself from Ms Hadley, from his tormentor, from my father.
“We vowed to be honest with each other even if we couldn’t be honest with ourselves, and above all else, we vowed to love each other. Pretty poetic for a bunch of drunk fourteen year olds,” Anton continues, smiling at the memory. His face is littered with memories, the same as Erik. We’ve spent our lives as brothers and even now all these years later the pact remains.
“It’s a good pact,” Rose responds with a smile even though her eyebrows pull together in question. “The knife worries me though.”
“Don’t let it. Despite what I believe happened here, I’m strangely calm, Rose. It’s an odd sensation, honestly,” I say, wondering when the fallout will happen, when I’ll buckle. Maybe I’m still hoping I’m wrong… I don’t know.