Her eyes rose to meet his and her mouth opened to speak, but his words preceded any she could utter.
“It’s for you, Alex. Will you marry me?” he asked.
“What?”
“I’m asking you to marry me,” he said. “It is a serious proposal.”
Almost gasping, almost angry, thoroughly flummoxed, she struggled to answer. “Yuri… I…”
“Please say yes,” he said. He moved a hand to her and settled it on her knee. He touched her with obvious affection. He was too sick for lechery and time was too short for games.
She looked back down to the ring.
It was jewelry more befitting a movie star or a member of European royalty, not a working woman from southern California who had gone through college on scholarships and now worked in law enforcement. Again, she was no expert, but in the past she had had enough experience on a professional basis with jewelry to know that this piece probably clocked in at seventy-five to a hundred thousand dollars.
She sat before him nonplussed. The reality of the moment was sinking in upon her, the realization that he was not kidding and the offer was indeed serious.
“If you say yes,” he added with surprising gentleness, “it would be the most joyous moment of my life.”
“Yuri, I don’t know what to say.”
“Then say yes. I will call a priest whom I know here in Geneva. And we will do fast paperwork and make it official. We could do it here in the hospital as early as tomorrow. I have paperwork that has been prepared. All you would have to do is sign and-”
“My reaction isn’t so much yes or no,” she stammered, “as it is that such a proposal is completely out of the question.”
“Why?”
“For more reasons than I could explain.”
“Give me one reason,” he said.
The words came out almost reflexively. “I’m not in love with you,” she said.
He snorted a little laugh. “At this point,” he said, “what does that matter, hey?”
She groped for more words, more of an explanation, but instead was more at a loss for them than any previous time in her life. “I couldn’t possibly marry you,” she finally expanded.
She abruptly closed the ring box and set it back on the side table.
Federov was, however, neither hurt nor perturbed.
“Be realistic,” he continued. “This is my gift to you. If I am in love with you, what does it matter whether you love me? What would-?”
“Yuri, please. Stop this or I’ll leave.”
“How much time do I have left on this earth?” he pressed. “No one knows. You believe in God? Well, your God is in the process of taking me. So you give me a small gift before I die, and I will give you tremendous gifts that will last your lifetime.”
He paused and moved a hand to the ring box. He fingered it but didn’t open it.
“Let’s be honest,” he continued. “I am a very wealthy man. See that drawer? “ he asked, indicating the same drawer that had held the Tiffany bag. “All my financial information is in there. Bank accounts. Some in Ukraine, some in New York. Most of them safe here in Switzerland. You will also see letters I have on file with lawyers here in Geneva. You would have access to everything I own if you were my wife. I have a will. I have already named you as a beneficiary.”
“I don’t want your money, Yuri,” she said. “When it comes down to it, I can only be honest with you. I am appalled by the way you acquired your wealth. How many people did you betray? How many did you kill?”
“A small number compared with how many tried to harm or kill me,” he answered. “I have taken care of my daughters who live in Canada,” he said, “although they do not know it.”
“They should inherit your wealth, not me,” she said. “They’re your flesh and blood. They suffered because of you. They deserve whatever you can give them.”
“They hate me,” he said matter-of-factly. “Do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you,” she said.
“There then, you see?” he said, attempting to close an argument around her. “I want to leave my fortune to someone who doesn’t hate me. Do you understand what a wealthy woman you would be, what a wealthy widow you will be in a short period of time?”
“Yuri, I don’t think like that. And it was about a year ago that I had to get myself past the death of my fiancé in Kiev. So-”
“I believe I’m worth more than twenty-five million dollars,” he continued. “Most of it in cash.”
She blew out a long breath. “Yuri, that’s not my idea of marriage,” Alex said. “Material wealth is not what motivates me.”
“What motivates you, then?” he asked. “I’m not sure I understand. Wealth is wealth. Wealth is power. Think of all the charities you could finance, if that is your goal. You would never have to work again in your life. You are young. After my passing, which will be soon, you would be free to do as you wish. You-”
“Yuri, I hate to be so brutally frank. But I’m not in love with you! I couldn’t marry a man I didn’t love. It might seem quaint and old-fashioned to you, but that’s how I am. That’s who I am.”
“The man who died in Kiev…? The man you just mentioned…?”
“Robert.”
“Did you love him?”
“Of course I did!”
“And you still miss him?”
She opened her mouth to answer yes, but her voice broke before she could find the words. “Of course I do!” she said again, almost indignantly. “Why do you even ask me that?”
Several seconds ticked by. Finally, he spoke again.
“You know, my precious Alexandra,” he said, “my whole life, whenever I have tried to show my best innermost desires, to be generous, to be a morally good man, I have faced contempt, scorn, and disbelief. And whenever I gave in to my most base desires I was praised, respected, and encouraged. It is no different now.”
“I will not marry you,” she said. “I will not even consider it. The discussion is over.”
“All right,” he said after a pause. A flicker of a smile and, “But then, please allow a grievously ill man a final fantasy. If you would.”
“What would that be?” Alex asked.
“Put my ring on your finger. Let me see you wear it, if even for a moment before you say a final no to my offer and hand it back. Before the darkness arrives and the long night claims me, let me hold in my head the image of you wearing my ring, even if the reality of a marriage will never come to be. Let me die with that vision.”
“Yuri, I don’t know-”
“Please,” he said softly, from dry lips below beseeching eyes. “What does it cost you to give me this small amount of comfort?”
To his question, she had no immediate answer. So, “All right,” she said softly.