Page 55 of Pageant

I fall back against the chair as I laugh in relief. My shoulders won’t stop shaking and tears leak from my eyes. I’m still not dead? Fate really has a fucked-up plan for me.

“You know what I just realized, Elyah?” I reach out and lazily thread my fingers through Kirill’s hair as he draws the wet and shining gun from my pussy. His curls are soft and warm, and I pet him like a cat, still hugging him with my thigh. “You have to go on believing I’m a liar. Otherwise, you’ll have to face up to all the cruel things you’ve done to the woman you love for no good reason.”

Elyah’s cold blue eyes spark with rage and the muscles of his jaw pulse. “I will have to do no such thing. I know you are liar.”

I shrug, pretending that my insides aren’t burning with the injustice of never being believed. “If you say so.”

Kirill unloads the gun, kisses the bullet, and slips it into his pocket. “I’m keeping this,neordinarnaya. A reminder of our time together.”

“How touching.” I pull my dress down and sit up, turning to Konstantin. “Can I go now?”

My insolent tone seems to amuse him. He wanted a gun held to my head to test my bravery. I played Russian roulette with my pussy. I think he’s got his answer.

He gets to his feet, comes around the desk and reaches for my hand, helping me to my feet like a gentleman at a dance. “You pass again, Number Eleven. I thought for sure you’d be eliminated by now, but you continue to surprise me.”

“I aim to please,” I say sarcastically.

He gives me a sleek smile and dips his head toward me. Those gray eyes of his sparkle like a frozen lake, and the pitch of his voice is low and rich as he murmurs, “Apparently, you do. Good girl.”

Maybe it’s my oversensitized nerve endings or that fact that I’m still wet and throbbing from fear and Kirill’s tongue, but those two words swan dive down my body and pool in my core. I’m suddenly too aware that I’m naked beneath my dress and Konstantin is holding my hand.

To smother my confusion, I retort, “I’m not doing this for your benefit. I’m trying to stay alive.”

Konstantin lazily reaches up and takes hold of my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but I can feel the strength in his fingers should he choose to throttle the life out of me. With his thumb, he slowly but firmly tilts my head to one side and leans down to murmur in my ear, “Whatever the reason, I get to sit back and enjoy you.”

Konstantin’s smile reveals pointed canines, and suddenly he resembles a scarred alpha wolf.

“Until tomorrow, Number Eleven. I’ll be waiting.”

I quickly rearrange my features, throw Konstantin a hard, sarcastic smile and allow myself to be escorted from the room.

As I step through the door and it closes behind me, the smile dies on my face. The blood in my veins turns to ice, and terror, true terror, sweeps over me. I fumble for a chair, sit down without a word, and stare straight ahead through the glass.

I can still feel the ghost of the gun between my legs. If I’d lost the game of roulette, would the bullet have killed me quickly, or slowly? I think a gunshot wound to the stomach takes a long time to die from. Plenty of time for Elyah to continue torturing me at his leisure. Kirill would probably have joined in.

“Lilia?”

A tentative hand lands on my shoulder and I turn around and see a woman with dark, silky hair and warm brown eyes.

“Alejandra!” I gasp and throw my arms around her. “We all thought you were—”

“Dead, I know.” She grimaces. “He shot at the ceiling, not me.”

An awkward silence stretches through the room as everyone stares at me.

“What they did with that gun. Did you really like…?” Klara begins, and then falls silent.

“Of course she didn’t like it. She’s drawing their heat, remember?” Olivia comes forward and gives me a hug, saying, “I don’t know how you do it. One minute they’re in charge, and the next you’re telling them what to do. It’s magnificent. You’re the only thing keeping me going.”

“Did you really do that for us, Lilia, so they won’t touch us?” Daiyu asks.

Several of the women murmur their thanks, but Marija just shrugs. When Olivia glares at her, she says, “What? Lilia’s dead anyway. Better her than us.”

“Wow. Such gratitude,” Olivia says, turning to face the two-way mirror.

Elyah and Konstantin are talking in Russian. I frown. No, from the tone of their voices, they’re fighting.

“What do you think they’re saying?” Celeste whispers.

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