Page 31 of Sinful Union

“Your office?”

He grins. “I set myself up in one of the spare bedrooms. It looks pretty good, if I do say so myself. Come on.”

Piotr doesn’t wait to see if I follow. He just expects me to, leaving the kitchen without another word.

I stare after him for a long moment, a slow burn of irritation creeping up my spine.

I follow with a bitterness in my throat I can’t stand to swallow.

Chapter 15

Kat

“Come in, dear sister.”

Piotr’s office is exactly what I expected—cold, sterile, and devoid of any personality. Everything about it is designed to intimidate, without an ounce of comfort. A massive desk dominates the space, its polished surface reflecting the overhead lighting.

“Have a seat,” he says, sweeping his hand toward a pair of chairs in front of his desk.

The chairs are small and uncomfortable, meant to make whoever sits in them feel insignificant and uneasy. I roll my eyes.

Piotr slides into the large, cozy, leather chair behind his desk. He places his feet up, steepling his hands over his chest.He wants me to feel like I’m beneath him. I don’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead of taking one of the tiny chairs, I stroll right past them, my heels clicking softly against the floor as I make my way to the bar in the corner. A decanter of expensive whiskey sits on a glass shelf beside crystal tumblers. I pour myself a generous drink, swirling the amber liquid lazily. I don’t offer him one.

Piotr’s lips curl slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. He knows exactly what I’m doing. He lets me have my little moment and doesn’t call me out on it.

I carry the tumbler over to the couch on the other side of the room, settling into the cushions with a deliberate ease and heavy sigh. If he wants to play games, I’ll play them, too.

His gaze hardens for a quick second, clearly irritated that I didn’t squeeze myself into one of the little “guest” chairs.But his expression soon turns to one of amusement as he leans back in his seat, drumming his fingers on the armrest. If he wants me to squirm, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

The amusement is soon replaced with a hard sternness. Time to get down to business.

"For the second time, Katerina, why isn’t he dead?"

He says it so casually, as if he’s asking me why I forgot to pick up milk from the store, instead of why I haven’t killed my husband. My stomach twists in disgust, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I lift a brow, slowly tracing the rim of my glass with my finger as if I’m bored.

“Because I don’t think the Fetisovs are responsible.” I say it with a steady voice, but inside, my pulse is hammering. I’m not a hundred percent certain they’re innocent. I don’t know anything for sure. I’m going with my gut.

Piotr’s expression doesn’t shift, other than a slight narrowing of his eyes. He stops drumming his fingers on the armrest for half a second before resuming a slow, steady beat. He doesn’t like my answer.

Good.

“I want to do a little digging before I murder a man you used to call your best friend,” I continue, keeping my voice calm and even.

Piotr exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous. We’ve had this planned for months. And don’t forget, that so-called ‘best friend’ is the person who ordered the hit on our parents.”

I cock my head to the side. “And how do you know that, exactly?”

His jaw tightens. “Everyone knows that,” he says flatly, as if that’s supposed to be enough to convince me.

I scoff, a humorless laugh escaping before I can stop it. “That’s not proof, Piotr. That’s gossip, hearsay.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Annoyance? Frustration? Whatever it is, it vanishes almost instantly.

“What the hell is this?” he asks. “You were dead set on this plan with me, now you’re having second thoughts?” An aggravated sigh follows. “I knew it was a fucking mistake to have you be the one who did the deed. You’re too close to him, always have been. You’re too soft.”

Soft?Describing me as soft simply pisses me off.

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