Page 86 of Weeping Roses
“No.” She giggles adorably. “I can’t because I’m already married to the love of my life and nothing will ever change that.”
This time, she reaches up and trails her fingers down my face, resting on my lips and whispers, “I love you, Valentin Romanov, and it’s perfectly fine if you can’t say it back. I just want you to know that.”
She deserves a response, but I can’t give it to her. The words stick at the back of my throat. Words that have never featured in my life before now.
Instead, I slip the ring from the box and glide it to meet her wedding band and as I hold the million dollar diamond in my hand, a deep feeling of possessiveness sweeps through my soul. This is the moment Polly is truly mine. Not when I fucked her senseless on the journey out here. Not when we said our vows before the registrar and not when she accepted my proposal. It’s now, in the car, as I prepare to walk into my family home with my wife by my side. It’s the moment I placed my ring on her finger, the moment when her life belonged to me.
We enter the house as one unit. Hand in hand, husband and wife. I understand how Mikhail must have felt by bringing Lilli home. Not as his wife, though, his girlfriend. I’ve gone one step further and I’m not sure how it will be received.
Mama is waiting and her expression of delight is not reaching her eyes and my heart sinks.
“Valentin.” She heads toward me and pulls me into her arms and whispers, “I am so angry with you.”
Then she pulls back and does the same to Polly, who is apprehensive as she faces her mother-in-law for the first time.
“Welcome, honey. I’m Grace, Valentin’s mama, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
She steps back and a brief expression of confusion flits across her eyes and she says thoughtfully, “You remind me of someone.”
I swear my heart pauses a beat as I sense her mind working hard and she peers even closer. “You remind me of an old school friend I had. She had the same features and the same color hair.”
Polly makes to speak and I interrupt and pull the photograph from my pocket and say, “Is this her?”
I should have waited and I should have discussed it with Titus first, but I wanted to see the expression on her face the moment she realized exactly who Polly is.
“Where did you get this?” She reaches for the photograph and Polly stills beside me as mama stares at it with a misty expression in her eyes.
“This was so long ago. A lifetime, in fact.”
She shakes her head and stares at the photo with a wistful expression.
Then she glances at Polly and says in disbelief, “Is Veronica your mother?”
“No.” Polly shakes her head. “My aunt.”
Mama looks between us and appears more confused than guilty, which settles my heart a little but doesn’t change the fact her dead husband’s mistress is standing beside her in the photograph.
We are interrupted as my sister Ana heads our way with a broad smile on her face.
“You’re still alive then.”
“Ana!” Mama admonishes her and she rolls her eyes.
“When mama heard you were bringing your wife home, she hit the roof.”
Polly shifts nervously and Ana turns to her and smiles. “Not because he married you. You are most welcome here, Polly. No, it’s because mama was cheated out of months of planning and acres of social engagements in arranging your wedding.”
Polly smiles awkwardly and I can tell this is a lot for her and so I slip my arm around her shoulders and pull her close, dropping a light kiss on her head and saying firmly, “Why wait? I wanted to marry. It’s done. No drama, no other reason than I wanted to, and you have four other children to fuss over when they decide to follow me.”
Ana laughs out loud but mama shakes her head sadly and says to Polly, “Forgive my children, honey. They have no understanding of romance. Their father was the same. Business has taken over their soul and everything is done with a practicality that removes any emotion from their lives. If I am disappointed, it’s because I never got to enjoy the planning with you. We have been denied our chance to get closer because the deed is already done.”
She peers down at the photograph and smiles sweetly. “Come and tell me about darling Veronica. We were such good friends and I hope she is well.”
“She’s dead.” I don’t mess around and the horror on mama’s face makes me breathe an audible sigh of relief.
“Dead.” She stares at the photograph and I detect her hands tremble.
“How?”