Page 122 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

There’s real emotion in his voice. Whole sentences, chapters, novels written between the lines. But they’re written in a language I can’t understand.

“Then what was it like?”

He drops his sandwich and pushes the plate away slowly. Every movement is controlled, practiced, even now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Nikolai lose control.

He’s quiet for a long time. Then he says, “Not like this.”

It’s clear that’s all he plans to say. I go back to eating. But every bite is like sawdust in my mouth now. So after a few more bites, I push my plate away, too.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say softly.

Nikolai nods without looking at me. His eyes stay locked on the fire in front of us. I can feel the heat radiating, but I can also feel the coolness of the rest of the room pressed against my back. It’s a strange thing, being caught on the edge of two realities. Like I’m being given a choice: retreat into the cold loneliness I know or venture deeper into the heat of whatever this thing between us is.

It’s not hard to decide what to do.

“Thanks for… for everything,” I add. “For bringing me and Elise here. For taking me on that hike.”

“Even though you almost died?” he asks.

I nod. “Even though I almost died. Which, by the way, thanks for saving my life.”

“Twice.”

I pretend to pout. “I thought you said I could have taken Roger.”

“With that hole punch, I think you could have taken on anyone,” he says. “That fucker was heavy.”

I scoot closer to him. The move isn’t exactly subtle, and Nikolai notices everything. I know he saw.

“And I already thanked you for helping me with Roger.”

“You did?”

I nod and lick my lips. “That night. In your office.”

Now, Nikolai turns to me. His attention is even more scalding than the fire. “Ah. So that’s what that was.”

“I think it’s a fair exchange for my life. Don’t you?”

Before I can even finish the question, Nikolai grabs my arm and yanks me onto his lap. My knees are anchored on either side of his hips as he grips my waist.

“Stop talking about sacrificing yourself.”

I frown. “I wasn’t—”

“Nothing is a ‘fair exchange’ for you,” he growls. “You’re worth more than anything on offer.”

He sounds angry, but I think he’s being… sweet? Is that possible? Can Nikolai Zhukova be sweet?

“So are you saying you don’t want to—”

“I’m saying that what’s important is whatyouwant,” he says fiercely enough to frighten me a little. “We should only do this if you want to. Not because you feel like you have to. So what do you want,lapochka?”

My heart is thundering in my chest. I’ve never had a man sound so concerned for me. Be so gentle.

And the fact that this is the same man who tied me to a chair in his office, who recorded us almost having sex in his office for blackmail? Insanity.

The only way I can make sense of any of this is that Nikolai thinks I’m pathetic. He’s made that clear from the moment he heard me on the phone with Roger that night in the conference room.

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