Page 9 of Cruel Russian Monster
I watched her flinch.
Goal accomplished.
Her glare stayed, but her voice softened. And in the past, when it softened the way it had now, there was nothing I would deny Vera if she asked.
“Would you have been happy if Lev and I got married?” she asked, eyes searching mine.
I didn’t answer. I was barely able to hold back my response. Because the truth? I didn’t want her to marry Lev. But after the pain she caused, I’d die before giving her the satisfaction of hearing that from me.
Her lashes lowered briefly, and when she looked at me again, her eyes were misted, lashes trembling with unshed tears.
“When I found out I was marrying Lev, I panicked,” she said quietly. “I tried to make peace with it, but I couldn’t.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to stay rooted. My instinct was still to wipe it away. I hated seeing Vera cry. I always had.
“So…I ran. I went…I went to Delaware.”
I wanted to ask why. Wanted to ask if she stayed in our spot. But I didn't.
“All I could think about was…you,” she whispered.
My gaze darkened, but my heart skipped a beat.
Her fingers brushed mine lightly, as her eyes searched mine again, pleading for understanding. From me. From the man who once loved her.
Are you going to let some sob story and a few tears derail everything?
She betrayed you.
You’re weak if you believe her now.
But fuck me, because a part of me wanted to believe her. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her for every minute I’d gone without tasting her.
But Vera made her bed, and now? She’d fucking lie in it.
I laughed, cruel and low. That charm that she used years ago? I crushed it under my feet. I wasn't going to fall for it, not now, not ever again.
“Think about me?” I asked, voice strained. “Did you think about me when I spent that day wondering if you’d been hurt, or worse…dead? Did you think about me when you sent that text saying I was just a game, just a rebound to make your ex jealous?”
I stepped forward. Her chest brushed mine.
“You are a Bratva woman,” I hissed. “That’s supposed to mean something: duty and loyalty. But you don’t know a damn thing about either.”
She flinched again, and I smirked.
“I don’t care that you ran to Delaware. I don’t care if you thought about me. Whatever feelings I had for you died the day you hit send on that text.”
My eyes bore into hers.
“The only thing I care about now is you fixing the goddamn mess you made and getting Artyom off our back. Go pack your bags,” I said flatly. “You're leaving with me now.”
The defiance was back.
"I'm not leaving here with you," she shot back.
“We can either walk out this door together,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone, “or I can drag you out. And I promise you, not one cop is going to show up. Not in this neighborhood. Not even if the whole damn block calls.”
