"Our night" — echoes in my head. He says this night is ours? It cannot be ours, since I am now the wife of his brother!
— How? — I ask quietly. — How is it ours when I married Timur… — it comes out desperately, but I can't help it. Emotions tear me apart from the inside.
— The Saint. You married, Juliana, the Saint. — he says firmly. — If you had read what you signed earlier, you would know that this is all a farce.
I take a deep breath. My nerves are on edge. I don't understand anything anymore, I’ve become confused because of him.
— A deal? The one where you promise, after fulfilling what was planned, to give freedom to mom and brother? — I ask, barely managing to get the words out.
— Yes.
— And what, then, is all this a farce? The wedding? The deal? The freedom? What exactly?!
— Shares, Juliana. Shares.
I definitely didn’t expect that. Shares? What shares? What do they even have to do with this?
— I don’t understand…
— Your share of your father's company now belongs to me.
Again, I think that darkness is playing only into my hands right now. I wouldn't be able to look into blue eyes and see only profit there. I mean, I knew about it… but knowing and seeing the outcome of the game are different things.
— My share?
— Yes, the company "AMB" of Volodymyr Dykyi exists not only thanks to him but also to the shareholders. The controlling stake was with your father, to be precise, that one extra percent. Now the controlling stake is mine.
— Wait, but you… You’re an artist. What do you have to do with all this? How? Was my percentage really that large?
— A nominal percentage, so to speak, — I can hear him smirking lazily, — but yes, alongside what was there, now I’m the main one.
— And what did you have?
— Not me, — he says casually. — I’ll go check the switchboard. If you’re scared, take my hand.
A few seconds of waiting. A few seconds of hesitation. I don’t know what to do. I am indeed scared, but after what I just learned, I can’t understand what is happening at all. Share percentages… Who knew I had them? Father never said… and of course, he wouldn’t have.
In the end, I place my hand in his. Vlad leads us through the dark corridor, and in a minute we’re outside. It’s much brighter here than in the house. The bright moon illuminates the area in front of the entrance, but the Saint leads further, behind the house. He stops in front of a locked switchboard and opens it. Then he hands me a flashlight that is turned on, asks me to shine it, which I do, and starts examining something.
I watch him. Bare torso, tense muscles, even tan, and scent… everything in him demonstrates considerable strength. And I, in a wedding dress, lost, unclear about whose wife I am now, in the middle of nowhere, yet beside him, the man who, it turns out, wants to become the main one over my father. Why? What is the reason for this desire?
— Will you tell me everything? — I ask.
Vlad freezes. He slowly looks back at me and smiles briefly.
— What, that's it?
— That’s it. You said that in time I would find out. But I feel that what you’ve told is not everything.
— What are you interested in? — he asks nonchalantly, twisting something in the switchboard.
— Who is my husband, officially?
Vlad quietly and mockingly snorts.
— Me.
The rest of the questions instantly become unimportant.
— How? — incredulously.
— The applications that you signed with Timur had my initials, the brother just signed. And bribing a civil registry employee is not a problem at all.
— And our deal? What was that about?
— You agreed to transfer all the shares to me.
— What did Timur negotiate about with my father?
— That Timur transfers all his shares to you.
— He has shares too?
— A part.
— I don’t understand anything anymore, — I babble. — So, your brother is working with my father, has shares, and in order to take control for himself, you decided to play at love for his daughter, deceiving by showing that supposedly Dykyi will become the main one, while in fact he ended up out of the driver's seat, basically?
— About that.
— Why does no one know you then?
The Saint snorts again.
— As you said earlier, I’m an artist.
— You work in the shadows, right?
— Yes.
— But… now my family are bankrupts? — I don’t even know how to react to all this.
— Why? Just now Dykyi will earn less money. If he goes against Timur, who will manage on my behalf, he will be unemployed at all.
— Now it’s clear why your mother wouldn’t do, — I mutter.
— That's it, — Vlad clicks something, closes the switchboard, and light begins to pour from the windows of the house.
He turns back to me. He looks at me defiantly, mockingly somehow, yet his eyes roam over my dress and face.
I clear my throat.
— Why all this? Control, struggle for power in the company… Money? Did you offer me freedom for money? — I ask demandingly.
The Saint grins boldly. The blue color of his eyes looks almost black. He steps closer and leans down to my ear:
— No.