Chapter 5 - A King Who Asked Permission
Three days passed before Elara stopped expecting every ringing phone to carry news that her life had collapsed.
Vadim’s attorneys began working to establish that the signatures attached to the accounts and loan papers were forged.
Elara answered questions for hours.
Where had she been on certain dates?
Who had access to her identification?
Had she ever signed documents for her father?
Did Taras keep copies of her passport?
The answers formed a pattern.
Yes, Taras had access.
No, Elara had never authorized those transactions.
Yes, several signatures resembled hers.
No, they weren’t hers.
The worst part wasn’t the money.
It was realizing how long the deception had continued.
Six years.
During those same years, Taras had called her lazy for not joining the family business.
He had mocked her for “hiding behind books.”
Meanwhile, her name had apparently been useful enough for contracts worth millions.
One evening Elara sat in the library staring at the same page for fifteen minutes.
Vadim entered carrying two cups.
“Tea.”
She accepted one.
“Thank you.”
He sat across from her.
He had made a habit of doing that—remaining close enough to talk, far enough that she never felt cornered.
“You haven’t turned the page.”
“I’m pretending to read.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“I’m excellent at pretending.”
His gaze held hers.
“That sounds learned.”
She looked away.
Vadim didn’t push.
After a while, Elara asked, “Why did you agree to marry someone you’d never met?”
“That question took longer than I expected.”
“I was occupied discovering my identity had been turned into an accounting department.”
“Fair.”
He leaned back.
“My grandmother wanted me married. Your father needed debt relief. Our businesses overlapped. The arrangement was efficient.”
“Efficient.”
“Yes.”
“You really are terrible at romance.”
“I’ve been told.”
“By many women?”
Vadim looked at her.
Her cheeks warmed.
She hadn’t intended the question to sound personal.
“A few.”
That shouldn’t have bothered her.
It did, slightly.
Elara disliked that realization.
Vadim noticed too much.
“Does that bother you?”
“No.”
A pause.
“Perhaps.”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That sounded honest.”
“I’m experimenting.”
His smile appeared.
Small.
Dangerous to her peace of mind.
She changed the subject.
“Did you believe my father when he described me?”
“Initially.”
The answer hurt despite everything.
Vadim saw it.
“I didn’t know you.”
“I know.”
“I thought your past irrelevant.”
“Then why mention it on our wedding night?”
“Because I believed there might be people capable of creating problems.”
Elara understood.
Former lovers.
Scandals.
Blackmail.
“You weren’t judging me.”
“No.”
She studied him.
“Would it have mattered?”
“How many men?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She laughed softly.
“My father would hate that answer.”
“I am developing many answers your father will hate.”
The sentence warmed something inside her.
Then Vadim’s phone rang.
He checked the screen.
“Excuse me.”
He moved toward the doorway.
Elara heard only fragments.
Chicago.
Warehouse.
Auditor.
Taras.
Vadim’s tone changed.
By the time he returned, his face had hardened.
“What happened?”
“Your father dismissed his chief financial officer.”
“Why?”
“The man began asking about the missing transfers.”
Elara set down the tea.
“So Dad knows someone is looking.”
“Probably.”
“Does he know it’s you?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not call him?”
“And say what?”
“That we know.”
Vadim shook his head.
“No.”
“You’re letting him continue?”
“I’m letting him reveal what else he is hiding.”
Elara stood.
“I’m tired of being something men discuss while I wait in another room.”
Vadim became still.
She continued.
“This is my name. My father used it. If we’re investigating him, I want to know everything.”
“It could become dangerous.”
“So could ignorance.”
“Elara—”
“No.”
Her voice strengthened.
“You said difficult things remain possible. You said my father’s decisions weren’t my guilt. Fine. Then stop protecting me like I’m too fragile to know what was done to me.”
Vadim stared.
She expected anger.
Instead he nodded.
“All right.”
The simple acceptance startled her.
“All right?”
“You’re correct.”
She blinked.
“People usually argue longer with me.”
“I don’t require pointless victories.”
Vadim crossed to the desk.
“Tomorrow morning, Mikhail will show you everything.”
Elara watched him.
“And if I want to be involved?”
“You will be.”
Something inside her shifted.
Being heard was still unfamiliar enough to feel almost suspicious.
Vadim paused beside her.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“Your sister Natalia contacted me.”
Elara’s heart dropped.
“Why?”
“She wants to come here.”
“Absolutely not.”
“She says Taras is watching her.”
Elara’s anger softened into worry.
“Did she say why?”
“She discovered something.”
“What?”
“She wouldn’t tell me by phone.”
Elara turned toward the window.
Natalia had known about the marriage.
She had stayed silent.
Part of Elara was still furious.
But Natalia was also her sister.
“What did you tell her?”
“That if she comes, I can protect her.”
Elara looked at him.
“You decided that without asking me?”
Vadim’s expression tightened.
She almost smiled.
“I’m joking.”
He exhaled.
“I’m learning.”
“So am I.”
Silence stretched between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Different.
Elara noticed how close he was standing.
Not touching.
Never touching.
His restraint suddenly became more noticeable than contact would have been.
Her eyes drifted briefly to his mouth.
Vadim saw.
Of course he saw.
The room seemed to change temperature.
He spoke quietly.
“Elara.”
“Yes?”
“If I misunderstand, tell me.”
Her heartbeat accelerated.
He lifted one hand.
Then stopped.
“May I?”
She knew what he meant.
Not a kiss.
His hand.
Her face.
Elara swallowed.
“Yes.”
His fingertips touched a loose strand of hair beside her cheek.
Nothing more.
The contact was feather-light.
Yet Elara felt it everywhere.
Vadim tucked the strand behind her ear and immediately lowered his hand.
Her breathing had changed.
So had his.
Neither spoke.
Then Elara whispered, “You ask permission for everything.”
“When something belongs to you, yes.”
“My hair belongs to me?”
“Your body does.”
The answer nearly undid her.
For years, Taras had taught Elara that her body was a family embarrassment.
Now the most feared man she had ever met treated it like sovereign territory.
A knock interrupted them.
Mikhail entered.
“Sorry.”
Vadim stepped back.
“What?”
“We intercepted a message from Taras.”
“To whom?”
Mikhail looked at Elara.
“Someone inside this house.”
The fragile warmth disappeared.
Vadim’s expression became lethal.
Elara’s stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Mikhail held up his phone.
“We don’t know yet.”
Vadim turned toward the corridor.
Every employee.
Every visitor.
Every guard suddenly became a question.
Elara looked at the man she had married.
For the first time, she saw the world surrounding Vadim clearly.
Power came with enemies.
May you like
And Taras Fagan had somehow reached across an ocean to place one beneath their roof.
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