Forgiveness

Leni

It had been a week since the party—a week since I last spoke to Dusan, and in that time, he had done everything short of begging for my forgiveness. Flowers, meals, books, even a library. He even adopted a kitten for me and from what I've heard, Dusan hates cats.

But it wasn’t enough.

I didn’t want gifts. I didn’t want pretty words or apologies wrapped in expensive gestures. I wanted the right actions. This was how my father had started with my mother. One mistake, one apology. Then another, and another, until she had nothing left of herself, just a body left for pleasure.

I wouldn’t let that be me. I might have been forced into this life but I won't let this life take over my being.

Milo stretched in my lap, letting out a tiny yawn as I scratched his belly. He had been the only real distraction from the storm inside my head and maybe the only gift I really loved.

“Mrs. Leni, breakfast is ready,” Viktor’s voice rang through the door. That was odd, Rafaela usually calls me for meals. Dusan was home.

I sighed, gently moving Milo off me before heading downstairs.

The dining room was set as romantically again ad varieties of meals filled the table; pancakes, waffles, scrambled eggs, juice. Dusan sat at the head of the table, watching me as I took my seat. His eyes held the same look he had since I stopped speaking to but there was something else in them now—something sad.

I felt a prick in my heart but I ignored it, picking up my fork.

Minutes passed in silence, the only sounds coming from the clinking of silverware.

Then-

“How long do you plan on punishing me?”

I didn’t look at him. “I’m not punishing you, Dusan.”

His jaw ticked but a small smile graced his lips. “Then what do you call this?”

I set my fork down. “Boundaries.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Leni, I—” He stopped himself, as if forcing the words out took effort. “I didn’t give you to Volkov because I wanted to hurt.” His voice lowered, rough, almost dangerous. “I did it because I wanted you too much and seeing you with Martin made me lose my marbles.”

I finally looked at him. “And that’s supposed to make it better?”

His hands curled into fists on the table. “You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand,” I said, my voice calm, but cold. “You let your jealousy put me in a dangerous situation, if I hadn't acted quick he'd have hurt me. Do you know what this reminds me of? My parent's relationship. My father did this exact same thing to my mother and I will be damned if I let history repeat itself.”

Dusan flinched, as if I had struck him.

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. “And now you think gifts will make me forget?”

“How many Tulips will you buy, a thousand? Nothing can change what you did to me, Dusan.”

His chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly. Before I could react, he was in front of me, gripping the edge of the table as he leaned down, caging me in. His voice was rough, desperate.

“I am not like him, Leni.” His fingers brushed against my jaw, his touch hesitant, almost reverent. “I’d burn the whole world before I let someone else have you.”

Something in his tone—desperate, sent a shiver down my spine.

For the first time in a week, I didn’t pull away. I didn't feel the urge to recoil.

His gaze dropped to my lips. His breathing was uneven, as if holding back took every ounce of his strength. “Tell me you don’t feel this,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

I should have.

I didn’t.

His mouth crashed against mine, all restraint snapping in an instant. It wasn’t soft, it was desperate. My hands gripped his shirt as he pulled me up, pressing me against the table.

The door creaked open.

“Dusan.”

Dusan moved before I could even understand what was happening, shifting his body in front of mine, shielding me. His grip on my wrist tightened—not painfully, but possesively.

I peered over his shoulder, my pulse beating with fear, I had never seen him so defensive before

A man stood in the doorway. Tall. Imposing. A quiet sort of authority radiated from him, the kind that didn’t need to be spoken to be felt His gaze flickered over the room, landing on Dusan.

Dusan’s voice was like steel. “You’re early.”

“We need to talk.”

I stayed quiet, reading the tension between them, my heart still racing from what had just happened.

Dusan didn’t move.

His body remained in front of mine.

And I had a feeling whoever this man was, whatever this was about, it wasn’t good.