Page 174 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
I turn fully toward her. “Nina.”
She folds her hands in front of her apron. “There have been security concerns before.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No,” she admits.
The guard near the window shifts slightly, but says nothing.
I press my palms against my knees. “Has the whole house ever been locked down like this?”
Nina hesitates. Then she shakes her head once. “No, madam.”
The fear in my chest grows teeth. “Why now?”
Her gaze flickers to my face, then to my ring. “Mr. Volkov has enemies,” she says.
“I know that.”
“Yes.” Her voice softens slightly. “But he did not have anything precious in the house before.”
I stare at her. I should reject it. I should laugh, or tell her this marriage began as a bargain, or remind both of us that Yaromir Volkov doesn’t think in soft words likeprecious. But my throat closes before I can say anything.
Because I remember his face this morning when I asked to go out.
I remember the way he said no.
I remember being angry at him for turning the estate into a cage.
Now the guards outside the door don’t feel like a cage. They feel like fear made visible.
His fear. For me.
The realization shakes me more than I want it to.
I stand and walk toward the window.
The guard immediately steps in front of it. “Madam.”
I stop. Anger flashes, but it dies quickly because he looks almost apologetic.
“Fine,” I say. I turn away and start pacing instead.
The library is too large, too quiet. Every sound from outside the room makes me look up. A footstep. A door closing. A low voice in the hallway. Each time, my heart jumps before disappointment settles back in.
Nina keeps trying. She asks if I want to see the household accounts.
No.
She asks if I want to choose fabrics for the dresses.
No.
She asks if I want the cook to prepare lunch.
Absolutely not.
Finally, she brings a stack of old photo albums and places them on the table.
