The room felt smaller now. The weight of the decision he had just made hung heavily in the air, and the silence felt almost suffocating. Anton couldn't keep still any longer.
His hands rested briefly on the edge of his desk, but only for a moment before he pushed himself away from it. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched as he turned back to the window.
She's not like anyone else. And I don't have time to wait.
Anton's mind moved quickly now, thoughts flashing with strategies and contingencies. He knew one thing for sure: this wasn't something he could leave to chance. If Nastya wanted to say no, she would. She was strong-willed, proud. But that didn't mean he had to make it easy for her.
She's not going to back down easily. Neither will I.
He grabbed his phone again, his eyes narrowing as he typed out a message. He didn't have time for hesitation. He needed her to see the stakes, to understand the weight of what was at risk—not just for him, but for her.
"If you want to get out of this, you have to understand it fully. No more games. Let's meet tomorrow. Same place. If you're in, we'll talk details. If not, this ends. Don't make me chase you."
He stared at the message for a moment before hitting send. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't patient. It was a command, though veiled in the cold tone that he had perfected over the years.
And then, as if to reassure himself, he sent another message—this one to his assistant.
"Prepare everything. I want the files ready for tomorrow. I'm not waiting for her decision any longer."
With that, Anton sat back in his chair, steeling himself for what was to come. He didn't want to play the waiting game. It made him feel vulnerable, exposed. In control of everything, except this.
But the truth was, Nastya was no pawn. He had tried to make her one. He had told himself she would fall in line, like everyone else did eventually. But there was something about her that defied the predictable patterns he was used to.
I can't let her slip away. Not when I know she's the one who can make this right.
He waited for a response. But as the minutes turned into an hour, the anticipation gnawed at him. He couldn't stay here. He needed to move, to do something.
He stood up, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door.
Tomorrow. The word echoed in his mind, and with it, the growing sense of urgency.
Back in her small apartment, Nastya sat on the edge of her bed, the phone still clutched tightly in her hand. Anton's message was sharp, even cold—but it was also… definitive. He wasn't waiting anymore. He was pushing, escalating. And if she didn't act soon, she knew he would move on.
She glanced at the clock. It was late, but sleep didn't come easily. Every thought, every concern felt magnified. The stakes were high, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to play in the world Anton was offering.
But what choice do I have?
Her mother's face flashed in her mind. The medications, the bills, the slow decline that she couldn't stop. The weight of responsibility that had been placed on her shoulders long before she had any idea how heavy it would get.
The same man who had offered her a way out—Anton, the one who seemed to be everything she had been avoiding—was the one who could pull her into something that might just change everything.
I can't afford to fail, either.
Her phone buzzed again, but this time, it wasn't from Anton. It was from Lena.
"You good? You've been quiet."
Nastya didn't respond right away. She couldn't bring herself to tell Lena the truth, not yet. Not when everything was still so uncertain.
Instead, she typed something simple.
"Just thinking. About everything."
She stared at the screen for a long moment before hitting send.
She tossed her phone onto the bed and stood up, walking toward the window. She let the cold air hit her face, the silence of her room pressing in from all sides.
What if this was her chance? The chance to break free.
But was she ready to risk everything for it?
Back at his office, Anton paced again. The text had been sent, the message clear. But still, nothing from her. The silence was louder than ever now.
He stared at his phone, willing it to buzz again, but it remained still. He knew she was processing. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. But this—waiting—was something he couldn't stand.
The longer he waited, the more the doubt crept in.
What if she's not the answer? What if I'm wrong about all of this?
But he couldn't afford to be wrong. He couldn't afford to lose control. So he waited, feeling the pull of her absence even as he tried to control his own world.
It was almost dawn when Anton finally sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the weight of the night pressed down on him. The city outside was still wrapped in a blanket of snow, cold and indifferent, and yet here he was, in the midst of something that felt almost personal.
His phone buzzed again, breaking the silence, but it wasn't Nastya. It was his business partner, a reminder of the world Anton had tried so hard to keep separate from this.
He sighed deeply, his thoughts momentarily drifting back to the contract, the arrangement, the power he wielded with just a few words. But even as the familiar, controlling thoughts took hold, something else crept in—something uninvited, unwelcome, but persistent.
Why does it matter so much?
Anton had spent his entire life building an empire, a fortress where no one could touch him, a life of absolute control. His father's voice still echoed in his mind, a reminder that weakness—emotion—was for the weak. But it was the weight of that very control that kept him from fully closing the door on this.
Nastya had challenged him, and more than that—she had stood up to him. It wasn't the usual fear or respect that people showed him. She had shown strength. It was… alluring.
She's a part of this game now. But is she a player—or just a distraction?
He didn't know. And that uncertainty ate at him. He wasn't used to this. He wasn't used to not knowing.
He stood up, the tension in his body coiling tighter. There was no more time to waste. He was done waiting.
Anton's phone sat before him like a lifeline, but he didn't reach for it. Not yet. He knew what he was doing. He wasn't just going to let things play out. No. He needed answers. He needed control over this situation.
But do I have control over her?
His father's words came to him again: Don't let them make you weak. Don't let them get close.
Anton stared at the phone for a long moment before standing up and walking to the window again. The city felt even farther away now. He could still see her in his mind, standing there in that quiet, defiant way she had, challenging everything he had built. And it bothered him. Deeply.
Why does it bother me so much?
Anton paced, his footsteps slow and deliberate, as if by moving, he could distance himself from the weight of his own thoughts. But the truth was, he couldn't get her out of his mind.
He turned back to his desk. His hand hovered over his phone. She's not like anyone else. That much was clear.
With a sharp breath, he tapped out a message.
"I'm not going to wait much longer. Let me know when you're ready to stop playing games. We have a deal to make."
It wasn't an invitation. It was a statement of fact. And deep down, Anton knew he was pushing her—pushing her harder than he had intended to. But something about her defiance made him want to see just how far he could take this.
I can't back down. Not now.