Andrei woke slowly at six.
For a moment, he lay still, his eyes adjusting to the dimness of the living room. Then he felt the blanket covering him.
He looked down at it.
A smile slowly spread across his face.
Claire.
He drew the blanket closer, almost hugging it against his chest, and let out a quiet laugh. It was such a small thing, but he couldn't help the boyish delight that came over him. She had come downstairs. She had seen him sleeping there and had bothered to cover him.
He had not expected it.
And perhaps he had been wrong to think there was no hope left.
Andrei pushed himself upright, looking towards the staircase. The penthouse was quiet, with only the faint hum of the heating system breaking the silence. Beyond the windows, the sky was beginning to lighten over the gardens.
He folded the blanket neatly and placed it over the back of the couch. Then he stood, rolled his sleeves to his elbows and headed for the kitchen.
He had an idea.
Breakfast.
Pancakes, to be precise. They were about the only meal he could prepare without needing someone to supervise him, but he was rather good at them. At least, Claire had always said so.
He gathered the ingredients and set to work.
The kitchen gradually filled with the familiar sounds of his preparations: the clinking of a bowl against the counter, the whisk moving through the batter, the soft hiss of butter melting in the pan. He made the pancakes one after another, taking care to get them evenly golden. He cut up some fruit, squeezed fresh oranges and arranged everything on a serving tray.
He even went back to the fridge for a little more fruit when he decided the first arrangement wasn't quite right.
By the time he was finished, the tray looked considerably better than he had expected.
Andrei glanced at it with satisfaction.
He lifted it and began walking towards the bedroom, humming under his breath.
It was "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," one of Claire's favourites, and he had never once admitted to knowing every word.
The humming soon grew louder. Before long he was singing the chorus, thoroughly off-key, swaying slightly as he made his way down the corridor and adding a flourish to the high notes the song had never asked for.
He laughed at himself when he nearly stumbled over the edge of the rug.
The tray remained perfectly steady.
He opened the bedroom door carefully.
Claire was asleep, turned slightly towards the window. The curtains were drawn apart just enough for the morning light to fall across the bed. Her hair was spread over the pillow, with several strands slipping across her face.
Andrei entered and closed the door behind him.
He placed the tray on the bedside table before sitting on the edge of the mattress. For a few seconds, he simply watched her.
He couldn't resist reaching for her.
A few strands of Claire's hair had fallen across her face, the ends brushing against her eyelids. Andrei carefully swept them aside, tucking them behind her ear. His fingers lingered briefly against her cheek.
Claire stirred.
Her eyelashes fluttered before her brows drew together. She shifted slightly against the pillow, then slowly opened her eyes.
Andrei was sitting beside her.
He was looking at her with an expression that made her pause. There was something almost boyish about his smile that morning, something she hadn't seen in quite some time. His eyes followed her as she woke, and for a fleeting second, Claire found herself caught in the warmth of his gaze.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Then the awareness of the distance between them returned. She blinked, straightened her back and adjusted the pillow behind her.
Andrei's hand slipped away and settled on his thigh.
Claire pulled her robe properly around herself, smoothing the fabric over her lap. She glanced at him before looking towards the bedside table.
Andrei followed her gaze.
A small smile returned to his face as he reached for the tray.
"I brought you breakfast. It's my speciality."
He lifted it towards her, looking rather pleased with himself.
Claire's eyes moved over the plate of pancakes, the neatly arranged fruit and the glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. She recognised the effort. Andrei wasn't particularly fond of spending time in the kitchen, and she knew pancakes were about the only thing he could confidently prepare without assistance.
But she didn't reach for the tray.
Instead, she placed her hands against its edge and gently pushed it back towards him.
Andrei's smile faltered.
He looked at her, then down at the breakfast between them. After a moment, he returned the tray to the bedside table.
"Claire?"
She drew a breath, her fingers gathering the edge of her robe.
"I got a job offer from L.A."
He waited.
"I plan to take it."
The words seemed to catch him off guard. His hands dropped into his lap, and the little enthusiasm he'd carried into the room disappeared.
He studied her face.
"I thought we already agreed on this," he said quietly.
Claire turned towards the window. The curtains moved faintly with the air circulating through the room, and a narrow strip of sunlight fell across the floor.
"I am no longer comfortable just being your kept woman."
Andrei's expression changed immediately.
A sharp breath escaped him. He looked away, his jaw tightening as he absorbed her words.
"I'm sorry."
Claire turned back to him.
"For what exactly?"
He lowered his head. His fingers moved restlessly against one another.
"I'm sorry for everything."
A dry chuckle escaped her.
"For everything?" She shook her head slightly. "What exactly have you done wrong, Andrei?"
He looked at her but offered no answer.
"It's not your fault I chose to follow you seven years ago. It's not your fault I quit my job because you were jealous of other men being close to me. It's not your fault I gave up my dreams. It's not your fault I chose to stay in this empty house just because you provide me with everything I could ever need and more."
Her voice remained remarkably steady.
Andrei's expression tightened.
"It's not your fault I lost our baby. It's not your fault I allowed myself to be imprisoned in this golden cage."
The last words came out more quietly.
He moved before she could continue.
Andrei slid off the mattress and lowered himself onto his knees beside the bed.
Claire stopped.
For a moment, she simply looked at him. Then her gaze shifted towards the window. She swallowed, pressing her lips together as she brought her fingers to the corners of her eyes. A tear had escaped, and she wiped it away quickly, turning her face further from him.
Andrei remained where he was.
"I..." His voice faltered.
He looked down, struggling to compose himself. When he tried again, the words came unevenly.
"I haven't done well by you."
He shook his head.
"I haven't, Claire."
His eyes glistened. He reached for her hand, taking it carefully between both of his.
"I... I can't survive without you, and you know it."
His fingers tightened around hers.
Claire looked down at their hands. She didn't pull away, but neither did she return his grip.
"I know I've made mistakes. I know things haven't been easy for you." He paused, struggling to find the words. "But there's so much happening at home, Claire."
He drew a shaky breath.
"I'm the only one Ivan has. He's had so much pressure on him. From my father, the group, his marriage with Eleanor and everything else that's been happening. You know what he's been dealing with."
He glanced down at their hands.
"I've been trying to hold everything together. I thought I could get things sorted out first. I thought once things settled down, I could finally..."
He trailed off.
Claire waited.
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice low. "I thought I could make things right."
She shifted her hand slightly in his.
"I can't take it anymore, Andrei."
He looked up.
"I want my life back. I no longer want to be your kept woman."
His face tightened.
"You can never be my kept woman, Petarda."
Andrei shook his head, his grip loosening.
"Please don't say that, Petarda."
Claire looked at him steadily.
"Please," he said after a moment. "Give me some time to set things right at home. With my family. I just need a little more time."
Claire pulled her hand from his.
"You don't get it, do you?"
Andrei looked up at her.
"It's been seven years."
Her voice had sharpened.
"Seven years, Andrei. I can't work. I can't follow my dreams. Do you honestly think my dream was to sit in this empty house, go shopping, attend galas and fashion shows sometimes by myself, sometimes as your date, and go on vacations around the world?"
She shook her head.
"Is that what you think I wanted? To spend the rest of my life being your perfect little mistress?"
Andrei winced.
"Not that word, Petarda," he whispered. "I just wanted you to be comfortable."
"Not at the expense of my freedom and my sanity," Claire said calmly.
Andrei nodded slowly.
"I understand. And I will work on it, I promise."
Claire said nothing. Instead, her gaze shifted towards the alarm clock on the bedside table.
"It's almost time for breakfast. You should leave now, or you'll be late for breakfast, and we can't have that."
Andrei followed her gaze.
He stayed where he was for another moment, looking at her as though he was waiting for her to take back what she'd said. When she didn't, he sighed as he slowly rose to his feet.
He straightened his shirt and glanced at the tray.
The pancakes were untouched.
He looked at Claire again before leaning down. His lips settled against her forehead, lingering there a little longer than usual.
"Please wait for me, Petarda."
Claire lowered her eyes.
He pulled back, searching her face for an answer. None came.
Andrei stood there for another second before turning towards the door. His hand closed around the handle, and he glanced back at her one last time.
Claire didn't look up.
He opened the door and left. It closed quietly behind him.