Page 57 of The Brutal Arrangement

“I need to check with him whether I’m allowed,” I added, mentally cringing at how powerless I sounded. I’d never had to ask permission to do a simple thing like going to a salon. I’d never had money for such a luxury, but I wasn’t about to make a mistake here. It could cost my life. It could threatenmy marriage, which would challenge the deal I’d made with Katerina about my mom.

“You’re fine,” Maxim said dryly.

I shook my head, determined to be obedient. I didn’t want Damon to have a single hint of a reason to think I wasn’t listening to his command. “I’d rather get permission first.”

“Youhavepermission,” Maxim stated. “Damon wouldn’t press an issue withmetelling you to go. I make all decisions here.”

Oh, whoa.I hadn’t realized that Maxim was the boss.

“So if Sloane wants to go to the salon with another woman for a change and not ‘a bunch of guys’, then I’m going to make that happen.”

“Oh.” I nodded, understanding that I had to obey Damon, but then also Maxim now. “Okay. Sure. Whatever you want.” I looked at Sloane and tried to smile again.

She furrowed her brow and sighed. “Yeah. You need some fresh air.”

I wasn’t aware that was allowed.

On the way to the salon, Sloane didn’t talk much. Instead, she seemed happiest just looking out the window and watching the scenery blur by. I didn’t mind it, either. I felt like an animal being let out of its cage, but in a weird and clinging way, I wanted the security of being back in that building. I didn’t know all the rules about being in the Mafia, but I coveted the safety of being where I was expected.

No. You’re so addicted to sex now that you wanna be there in case Damon comes home.

I cringed, bemoaning the fact I had become so conditioned like Pavlov’s dog.

Once we arrived at the salon, Sloane became chattier. She didn’t exaggerate her enthusiasm for any conversation, but I got the impression that she was trying to get me to open up a little more than small talk. It wasn’t intrusive, but I wasn’t used to this.

The last time I thought I could befriend someone was when I got along with Katerina at her residence. And look how that turned out.

I couldn’t trust myself with the limited experiences of friendship I’d had. Sloane wasn’t a coworker I could shoot the shit with. She wasn’t a client of a house I was cleaning. And she wasn’t… an ally, either.

Something was really messed up in me to doubt everyone I met now. But after agreeing to a marriage into the Mafia, I supposed I’d just need to flounder my way through this. No matter what, I wasn’t ready to be vulnerable and accept a friendship from anyone yet.

While she asked for her “usual” with her hair, everything adjusted to avoid chemicals or anything that could interfere with her pregnancy, I lacked direction of what I could do.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I wasn’t sure I even felt like myself anymore. I had no easy contact with my mom, which was a blessing in some ways as she became less of the parent I knew and loved. I had no job that defined me. And I’d gotten into this situation by pretending to be someone else.

“How about you go natural?” the stylist suggested as she looked at my roots that were starting to show. The chestnut brown that I’d dyed my hair wasn’t going to last forever. It was how I’dresembled Katerina so well. She had slightly longer and thicker brown waves, but if I went back to my natural color and style? I’d be a dirty blonde with straighter hair. Shorter, too, almost in a bob.

“You know what?” I nodded, almost excited about reclaiming “myself” again. “Why not?”

She smiled at me, perhaps excited for the project. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Maybe looking more like my old self would make me feel better about myself and my situation.

If I could look like the old me, maybe I could dismiss this tug on my heartstrings that I was married into a loveless situation.

If I tried to just beme, perhaps I could wake up and realize good sex was not the distraction I could allow as I navigated this marriage I wasn’t supposed to stay in.

22

DAMON

Afull day of following dead ends didn’t put me in the best mood. No matter where I directed my men to look and regardless of how many times I met with John and Hugo and any other soldier or spy, Nik couldn’t be found.

“Have you asked Lucy about the Kozlovs?” Maxim asked me when I met with him and Saul at a warehouse where we’d all three oversee the transfer of drugs into our rooms.

“No,” I replied, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“At all?” Saul asked.

---