Page 37 of Scarlet Sins

And narrow my eyes.

“You want me to go out?”

“I have people to accompany you.”

“Even with that, you don’t like it. You got mad when I went to the jewelers with your sister. And took Sasha for a checkup and now…”

He hasn’t stopped reminding me I’m still in danger.

His gaze is calm and unreadable.

“Why are you…” I trail off. And it slams into me like a brick. “Stefina.”

Demyan doesn’t deny it.

“I thought you’d like to stretch your wings.” That’s it. That’s all he says.

“Don’t. I’m not an idiot, Demyan.”

He sighs. “Fine. She’s coming over and I didn’t think you’d want to be here.”

I don’t know why it hurts more but it does.

“Why? She’s been here before and you haven’t kicked me out in the past few days, so there must be something.” I narrow my eyes again. “What else, Demyan?”

“She’s bringing her chosen celebrant. Something about vows and running through it all. I don’t fucking know why she wants me to meet this asshole.”

“That’s just great.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to be around,” he says. “The wedding isn’t happening, but it stresses you so?—”

“You thought you’d shove me out the door, tell yourself I’m some kind of hysterical woman, and lessen your guilt. Because I imagine it’s a lot harder to plan your wedding and have the person presiding over said wedding with your son and his mother in the same mansion.” I press my lips together. “Because what if I wandered by? Or Sasha came in? I’d hate to ruin it.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you or Sasha ruining anything.”

“You just want to get rid of us,” I spit. “That’s all.”

“No, I’m trying to make this easier on you.” His fingers tighten on the cup.

“On yourself.”

He takes another sip of coffee. “Go out, forget everything for a while. This will be over when it’s over, and then we can marry. It’s complicated, but you have to trust me.”

“That ship might have sailed,” I snap.

“I know you’re upset, Erin, which is why I thought you’d prefer to be out of here.”

He’s like a stuck record and I’m the idiot who keeps hoping it’ll play the album through.

Part of me wants to throw the wrench in his works andstay. Maybe sit in the room with Sasha on my knee. But I think of Stefina. I don’t want to subject my son to her. Or myself.

My stomach lurches. The woman who just might be Sasha’s stepmother. I push a hand against my throat as burning bile surges up my throat.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop,” he says. His eyes drill into me. “This is me going along with bullshit until I find a way out. That’s it. I’m not marrying her. I’m marrying you.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

My words sting in the air, and neither one of us speaks for the longest time. Then he drains his cup.

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