Page 38 of Secret Heir

The smell of vodka mixing with his cologne creates something intoxicating. “That’s deflection. You’re hiding behind vague accusations instead of telling me the truth.”

“The truth?” I look up at him, and I can see the anger in his eyes and the frustration of weeks of fighting. The vodka has loosened his iron control. “The truth is you’re exactly what I thought you were. And I won’t apologize for protecting Daniel from it.”

“From what?” His voice rises. "What exactly did you fucking see?”

“I saw you!” I snap, unable to help myself now. “I saw something that made me realize I didn’t know you at all. It made me understand that the man I loved was just a mask for what you really are.”

He goes very still. “What did you see me do?” he breathes.

“It doesn’t matter.” I stand, trying to move past him, but he blocks me with his body.

He’s so much bigger than me—six-three to my five-two—and this close, I’m reminded of just how physically imposing he is. “It was enough. That’s all you need to know. Now get away from me.”

“No.” His hands come up, gripping my arms. It’s not hard enough to hurt, but it’s firm. He’s holding me in place. I can feel the heat of his palms through my thin shirt, and I feel the strength in those scarred fingers. “No, that’s not enough. I’m done with your games, Aria. I’m done with your half-truths and accusations. Either you tell me exactly what you saw, or I’m going to assume you’re lying and you ran for no good reason. That you subjected you and our son to eight years of poverty out of pure spite.”

“Spite?” The accusation is so unfair that my temper ignites. “You think I did this out of spite? You think I wanted to struggle? To watch Daniel go hungry? To live in fear every single day that you’d find us?”

“Then why?” He shakes me slightly, frustration rolling off him in waves. His gray eyes are dark, pupils dilated, and there’s something wild in them I haven’t seen before. “Why run? Why hide? Why not just talk to me?”

“Because I couldn’t!” The words are anguished. “Because I saw you—” I stop myself, biting down on the truth that wants to spill out.

“Saw me what?” He’s so close now I can feel his breath on my face, warm and sharp with vodka. “Finish the sentence.”

“I saw you do something horrible.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I saw what you’re capable of. And I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t risk Daniel growing up around that.”

“That’s it?” He stares at me like I’m speaking another language. “You saw me do something and you ran? Without asking questions? Without giving me a chance to explain?”

“What explanation could possibly justify—” I stop again and shake my head. I won’t finish the sentence.

“Justify what, Aria?” His grip tightens, and I can feel each individual finger pressing into my skin. “What did you see? What did I do that was so unforgivable?”

I shake my head.

“This is bullshit.” His voice is raw with frustration. “You’re keeping secrets and making accusations and acting like you’re the victim when you’re the one who stole eight years from me. Eight years with my son. Eight years of his firsts—his first words as a toddler, his first day of school, his first lost tooth, his first everything. Eight years of watching him grow up.” The look he gives me is full of loathing. “You took that from me, Aria. And you won’t even tell me why.”

I try to get out of my his grasp. “I had a reason⁠—”

“Then tell me!” He shakes me again. “Tell me what you saw. Tell me what I did. Tell me the fucking truth for once in eight years!”

“No!” I scream, suddenly sick of this conversation. “I won’t! I saw you do something horrible and I wanted no part of you after that. That’s it. Stop fucking asking me!”

Silence crashes down between us. Maksim stares at me, his eyes wild. His hands loosen slightly on my arms.

“I have no regrets about running,” I tell him coldly. “I would do it again and again if it meant keeping Daniel safe from you.”

The barb doesn’t land the way I wanted it to. His dark brows knit together. “There’s more to that story,” he says flatly. “And we both know it.”

“I don’t care what the story is.” I try to pull away, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “I saw enough. I saw what you are.”

“What I am?” Something like fury flashes in those eyes. “You don’t know anything about what I am. About what I do. About why⁠—”

“I don’t want to know.” I’m close to tears now. A few more minutes and I’ll break. “I don’t want to know the reasons or the justifications or whatever story you tell yourself to sleep at night. All I know is that I couldn’t let Daniel grow up around that. Around you.”

“So you let him grow up hungry instead,” he says icily. “You let him live in dangerous neighborhoods with criminals and drug addicts. You let him hoard food and learn what it feels like to go without. You denied him his family. You kept him from knowing he’s a Sokolov. All because you saw something you didn’t understand and jumped to conclusions.”

I gasp in outrage. “I understood enough⁠—”

“You understood nothing.” He pulls me closer, and suddenly there’s no space between us at all. I can feel the hard planes of his chest against mine, and the heat radiating from his body. “You saw one moment of my life and decided you knew everything. You decided I was a monster, and with that you took my son and hid him from me. Eight years, Aria. I spent eight years thinking something happened to you. I grieved for you. I’ve been alone for eight fucking years because I couldn’t move on from a woman who disappeared without a trace.”