Page 119 of The Darkness is Calling

I am glad he is not implying I was the one who did it, though he could hardly believe that anyway, since I only found out where we were going after I got into his car.

“Fine,” I say, slowly shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Since when do the paparazzi bother you?”

His question comes with a raised eyebrow and a curiosity that seems a little skeptical.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been thrilled by them.” I give up on the cutlery, placing them on my plate, a sign that I am done with the food.

“That’s true, but you’ve never complained about them either.” He continues to study me, and I wait for a direct question. “What is going on with you? You seem very distant.”

Oliver has always proven to be an intelligent man, one who reads people very well, but I was hoping he would not notice anything different about me on the very first day we saw each other again.

I force a small smile, placing my palm over his across the table.

“I’m sorry,” I say warmly. “We’re seeing each other again after so long, and here I am complaining about strangers.”

“For a moment, I would say you’re not happy to see me again,” he says, slightly serious, his head tilting to one side.

My body tenses, and I slowly withdraw my hand from his.

“It’s not that. I’m just tired.”

“I flew ten hours, Katya, after two full weeks of meetings and negotiations, even on weekends.” His voice is tense, and I notice the way he starts moving the expensive watch on his wrist with a subtle, but nervous gesture. “You had your recital, and afterward you were able to relax with your friend at the gallery, sipping coffee on a couch. And yet you’re the one irritated on the first evening I come home?”

He makes me feel guilty, attacking me with his version of the truth. And normally, I really would feel like an unfair fiancee toward the man who, not even four hours after arriving home, has already come to spend time with me.

But right now, I cannot help thinking of a similar conversation, in which he wasn’t able to understand me either. More precisely, after my father’s death, when I asked Oliver to postpone the wedding by a few months, and he said that was impossible because of the contract and the preparations his family had already made.

And something tells me the paparazzi outside were also notified about our dinner by someone from his family’s PR team.

Even though it was decided we should keep our distance lately, I couldn’t miss several articles suggesting there were problems in our relationship, with some wondering whether the wedding would still take place.

The missing ring om my finger didn’t help either.

Oliver’s return to London is the perfect opportunity to craft a story about these past weeks, during which we have not appeared together in public.

I can already see tomorrow’s headlines: The Perfect Couple Continues Wedding Preparations.

A muscle twitches on my temple. But Voron’s words echo in my head, reminding me of the power I also want to have. The power to always tell the truth to anyone.

What I hadn’t clearly understood, until this moment, is that no one gives you that power. You take it yourself, not by telling the truth, but by accepting the consequences.

It’s my moment of revelation, and I feel it in every cell waking to life, ready to shine brighter than ever.

“I didn’t realize there was a competition.” My voice is calm, though inside I am boiling with rage. “If I knew that, I would have brought up the same issue when my father was killed. Or when my life was threatened and you told me we couldn’t postpone the wedding, and that it would be better to keep our distance for a while because that’s what your image consultants advised.”

His gaze hardens, and I think this is the first time I’ve seen him this angry.

But I suppose it is also the first time I have ever spoken to him like this.

Visibly disturbed by my words, he looks discreetly around. I don’t think the guests at the nearby tables even notice us, which gives him the opportunity to continue the conversation.

“This is not a very pleasant beginning for a marriage, if you are now saying that you are, in fact, unhappy with the decision I thought you had understood when I told you we needed to continue with the wedding preparations.”

“There is a difference between understanding and being happy about the situation.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”