Page 80 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“I told you to wait at the table,” he says simply.

My eyes are damp, and I try to convince myself it’s just because of the bright light. But I know the truth: I’m relieved.

Nikolai is the one who locked me in here, and yet I’m bizarrely happy to see him again. Grateful to be out of the dark.

I shove past him into the hallway. When I’m out, I take a deep breath of the fresh air and a bit more of the unease slips away from me. Anger flows through in its place.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“Really?” he asks, eyebrow raised. “You can’t believe it?”

“You’re right—I should’ve seen this coming. I guess I’m just the idiot who tries to see the best in people.”

He nods. “There’s your mistake.”

I glare at him, wishing his gorgeous outsides would match his nasty, twisted insides. I want him to look as cruel and despicable as he truly is.

But Nikolai turns towards the kitchen, checking to see if we’re being watched, and he’s as chiseled and flawless as ever. Except…

“Is that blood?” I reach towards a speck of something on his collar. It’s a little rust-red stain I don’t remember seeing before. But before I can touch it, Nikolai twists away from me.

“It’s wine.” He tugs at his collar, adjusting it so the stain is less visible.

Then I notice his knuckles. They’re bruised and there’s something red dried into the creases.

He follows my gaze to his fingers and then shoves his hand in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

“Hell no,” I hiss. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Don’t make a scene.”

I gasp. “You’re tellingmenot to make a scene? You just locked me in the closet in the middle of our—”

I stop, swallowing the word. But Nikolai is too observant to miss my almost-slip. “Our what?”

“Our dinner,” I finish.

He steps closer, looking down his nose at me. “If this was a date, you’d know it, Belle.”

My stomach flutters nervously, but I crush those butterflies before they can take flight. “I don’t want to date you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”

“That’s not what you said when my fingers were inside of you.”

My face flushes, but I cross my arms. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

I move to walk down the hallway, but Nikolai grabs my arm. “Yes, you are. But I’ll call for a car.”

“I already said I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Which is why I’m calling you a driver,” he snaps. “Just because you’re naive enough to storm away from me and put yourself in danger by walking home alone doesn’t mean I’m going to sit by and let you.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly not,” he says, gesturing to me as if my existence alone is proof of what he’s saying. “There are bad people out there.”

Are you one of them?The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t voice it.

“Why do you even care?” I say instead. “It seems like it would be one less thing for you to worry about if I disappeared.”

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