Page 155 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“I don’t. I’m just surprised you’re here now since you didn’t come out to the bar last night.”

“Are you actually surprised I didn’t?”

Arslan shrugs. “I guess not. But I hoped you would. The mood around here has been… grim.”

He isn’t wrong, but instead of responding, I take another long drink.

“Come on, man,” Arslan groans. “You haven’t given me anything since you’ve been back. I kept my mouth shut and gave you space—”

I bark out a laugh. “Yeah, right. ‘Space.’ You don’t know the meaning of the goddamn word.”

He’s been pestering me every day about what happened in Iceland. But none of it affects the Bratva’s official plans, so there was no reason to say anything.

“I just want to know what went down with you and Belle,” he sighs.

Hearing her name shouldn’t bother me. She was a nothing. A blip in the radar. Entertaining while it lasted, but I have actual responsibilities to deal with. A Bratva to run.

But it still feels like Arslan just poured cold water down my back.

“Like that,” he says, jabbing a finger in my face. “What the hell happened that has your mug looking like that?”

I swat his hand away. “We didn’t work out.”

“No shit.” I shook him a warning look, and he holds up his hands. “Trying to be a friend here. You need to purge. Get this chick out of your system.”

“She isn’t in my system,” I snap.

I’m not one to sit around and chat about feelings, but even I have to admit that there is something to the idea of telling the story once and being done with it. Maybe saying it all out loud will hammer home how stupid I was to get mixed up with my shell company’s naive little accountant.

“We had some fun,” I grumble. “You’re the one always telling me I need to relax more.”

“You do! You need a vacation more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“And I guess that’s what I had,” I say. “A vacation.”

“But…?” he prods.

“But then Xena showed up.” I grimace.

Arslan suddenly flails his arms around his chest in a frenzy. For a second, I think he’s having a seizure.

“What the hell was that?” I ask.

“You said the she-devil’s name. I was trying to bless myself,” he explains. “That was the sign of the cross.”

I arch an eyebrow. “It looked like a drunk Macarena.”

“Is there a sober Macarena? I’ve never seen one.”

I shake my head and set my glass down. The whiskey doesn’t taste as soothing as it did a few minutes ago. “Anyway, Xena showed up and that was that. Belle didn’t know I was engaged.”

Arslan whistles. “Shit. That’s what you get for dating an accountant. They’re buttoned-up types. The next numbers nerd who’s down for a love triangle will be the first.”

“We weren’t dating. We were just… fucking around.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right. That makes sense. You’ve been on edge for the last six weeks because this woman meant nothing to you.”

“Sarcasm does not look good on you,” I mutter.

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