Page 150 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

Thus far, he’s doing an annoyingly good job.

But he’ll pay for it all later.

With interest.

Belle’s eyes widen. “So I’m just some toy you’re dangling in front of your future in-laws?”

“None of this is about you. If you’ll just fucking listen—”

“I’ve listened too much already!” She swipes at the angry tears rolling down her cheeks. “I listened when you said you’d take care of me. I listened when you said you’d give me whatever I want. Do you thinkthisis what I wanted?”

“Nothing has to change. This thing with Xena—”

“Marriage, you mean? Is that what you mean by ‘this thing’? You really ought to be specific.”

“This marriage with Xena is business,” I grit out. “That’s it. I don’t give a shit about her.”

Belle rolls her eyes. “As if that makes any difference. You’re engaged to her. You’re going to be married to her!”

She tries to push past me to release the emergency stop on the elevator, but I snare her wrist.

“Let go,” she snaps.

She tries to wrench her hand free, but she’s no match for my strength. I walk her back against the elevator wall. Her eyes widen. So green. The surface of a pond that goes deep, deep, deep.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I snarl softly.

“It’s too late for that.” Her voice catches, subtle but noticeable.

“Nothing has changed. Everything is exactly like it was.”

“Not for me.”

“Why? How is this different?” I challenge. “I’ll send Xena packing, and we can go back to—”

“To pretending we have a future together?” Her lower lip trembles.

It’s a big admission. Belle wants a future together. Or at least she did as of ten minutes ago.

I sigh. In my world, planning for the future is a fool’s errand. People get killed or betray you. They take what they want from you or die trying and that is simply how the game goes.

Belle wants something I cannot give her—certainty.

“I never made you any promises,” I say flatly.

Hurt flashes across her face, quick as lightning. Then she smiles.

It’s off-putting, the way her mouth turns into a grin while her eyes remain cold and lifeless. I hardly even recognize her.

“You’re right. You didn’t,” she croaks. “So I can’t be angry, right?”

“There’s nothing to be angry about. It’s business, nothing more.”

Belle takes a deep breath. She seems calmer now, but only on the surface. I can sense the storm raging just beneath her skin. “But if you and—whenyou and Xena get married, you’ll live together?”

“I—”

“She would be your date to events and galas? She would be on your arm in public? Xena would be the person who, in every public way, would be your wife?”

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