Page 167 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“People will always look twice at you, Belle.”

Again, my heart clenches, but I know what he really means. “Only because I got tangled up with the wrong person. I must haveI’M STUPIDtattooed on my forehead.”

His expression is cold and unreadable, but he’s looking at me like he can read every one of my thoughts. Like he understands me, inside and out. For all I know, he does.

The palpable chemistry between us has always been overwhelming, but now, it has me feeling actually dizzy. Nikolai came rushing back into my life like a tsunami, and suddenly, I don’t know which way is up.

“Belle.”

He says my name, but it sounds far away. His handsome, frustrating face swirls in my vision, spiraling like a whirlpool. I reach out to him. My hand clamps around his strong bicep, my nails digging into his skin, but even then, the sensation is distant, ethereal.

“Belle.”

Even as black dots appear in the corners of my vision, I fight to look at him. His hand smooths down the side of my face. Calloused thumbs brush across my cheeks so softly that I know it has to be a dream. My eyes flutter closed and then they snap open again.

All at once, the fog in my head clears. The dizzy spell passes.

"What?" I snap irritably. "I'm fine."

Nikolai is kneeling over me. A lock of dark hair has fallen over his forehead. We fell to the floor somehow, but I’m cradled in his arms now.

For the length of one breath, I relish how good it feels. Words he’s never said and never will say echo in the valleys of my brain.I caught you. I’ll always catch you.

But then I see them for what they are: a fool’s fantasy.

I scramble up and away from him. “It's just been a long time since I've eaten. I'm fine."

Nikolai reaches past me to snag a protein bar from the cabinet and shoves it into my hand. “Eat,” he commands.

I roll my eyes, but even I know that spiting him on this one is stupid. I force my hands to be as steady as possible as I peel open the wrapper. The first bite tastes like chalk. The second tastes like ashes. Neither one is easy to swallow. He watches me the whole time, hardly blinking.

“You can stop hovering. I’m fine.”

“No, I cant. And no, you aren’t.”

I drop the half-eaten bar onto the countertop. “So what? You’re just going to linger here? Keep an eye on me? I don’t think so. You have a life to get back to. A Bratva to run, remember? You can’t hang out here and babysit. This isn’t Iceland. That trip is over. This is real life.”

“Iceland was real, Belle.”

I bark out a vicious laugh. “Hell no, it wasn’t. It was a big, fat lie. And you acting like you can be here with me? That’s a lie, too. I’m not falling for it. You can’t stay here. You’re not welcome.”

The dizziness from a moment ago is returning. My chest is heaving, my breathing coming in huge, heavy gasps. It’s hard to catch my breath, and I don’t know why.

“Just… just leave,” I plead hoarsely. “Go.”

He responds by placing his palm over my heart. “Breathe, Belle.”

I try to shrug him off, but he refuses to budge.

“Relax,” he says. “You’re going to have a panic attack. Breathe.”

I follow his prompts, inhaling and exhaling when he says, staring into his gray eyes the entire time. And when my racing heart has finally calmed and my lungs don’t feel like overinflated balloons in my chest, I back away.

“Now, go.”

“No.”

I groan. “Why not? I’m sure your wife will give you plenty of kids. You don’t have to stick around for this one. We’ll be fine without you.”

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