Kara Stanislov watched as her son paced wildly in front of her.
"You knew this was going to happen when you relinquished your title to him," she said, "so why are you upset?"
Aleksandr whirled around and glared at her, only to shrink back when she returned. Even if he was her son, she would not tolerate disrespect.
She'd gotten enough of it from his father.
"Because I love her," he said. "Do you think if I knew she would be part of the sacrifice... that I would still give up my position? Do you know how long it took for me to track her down? Dima was clever... sticking her with Viktor. It was the last place I'd ever look."
"Why?" Kara asked.
"Because he loves her also," Aleksandr said. "We're more alike than we thought. Even if it meant putting her in a hellhole... to him it was still better than having her be with me. He's always been so fucking selfish!"
"Oh? And you aren't?" Kara asked, fury lacing her words. "Like you said, you two are more alike than you think. You both never think of anyone but yourself. Have you even considered Annika's feelings?"
"Her feelings are not important," he said. "Women never know-"
Kara stood up and slapped him across the face.
"Dima was right to take her away," she said. "He may be selfish, but he has a better understanding of women than you... or have you forgotten that Annika always liked him better than you?"
Aleksandr looked at her, shocked.
"She would always come here, bringing gifts for him... or just wanting to see him... she loved him. If her memories of her true self weren't repressed, who do you think she'd choose?"
She walked over to the door.
"I think you should look at yourself before judging Dima... maybe you'd see something."
She left, and Aleksandr just stood there, staring after her.
The sound of her fingers on the strings, and her hand expertly guiding the bow sent bolts of desire and admiration through him.
She was magnificent.
He focused his gaze on her, her eyes closed, her long burnt-sienna colored ponytail swung slightly as she swayed with the violin.
She was beautiful, wearing a sky blue muslin sundress and white flats. She seemed free, and her emotions were conveyed into her playing.
She was happy, and she was thanking him for it. He'd made her happy.
The thought made him proud.
The dress shifted, and he spied the upper mound of a mocha-colored breast... with a solitary mole adorning it. He inhaled sharply. Did that one mole have a twin?
Or was it all alone, yearning for the feeling of a man's touch, his mouth covering it...
"...you ok?" Annika asked.
He blinked.
"What?"
"Are you ok? You just blanked out on me."
If only you knew, he thought.
"I'm fine. I just got lost in thought. You are magnificent."
She blushed and turned her back to him. He stood and walked to her, and ran his fingers through her hair, making the thin rubber band fall out.
