Page 107 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

But right now?

He seems too occupied with the door.

I swallow my tears. “What now?”

He barely cocks his head toward me as he replies, “That’s for me to know.”

I blink in disbelief. “Really?”

He turns around, his face an emotionless statue.

“How the hell can you treat me like that?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

My lips twist with disgust. “Like I’m just a pocket pussy.”

He shrugs without breaking eye contact. “You enjoyed that.”

“What part of that did I seem to enjoy?”

“All of it.”

His response infuriates me. Partly because it’s snide as fuck. But mostly because it’s true.

Ididenjoy all of it. I just don’t want to admit that to him.

“Talk to me,” I push. “Tell me more about your plans.”

When he turns away, my vision tunnels. Scarlet red clouds the room, swirling around like storm clouds. A tornado is preparing to touch down. And when it does, it’ll destroy everything in its path.

Including him.

“Pavel,” I say firmly. I’m shaking so hard that I think I might actually explode. “You’ve never shut me out. Why are you shutting me out?”

Silence.

It’s my worst enemy.

And it’s what ultimately lures the monstrous Liya to the surface.

I shove his shoulder. “I’m fuckingtalkingto you.”

When he turns to face me, he’s no longer Pavel, my husband. He’s Pavel, the ruthless pakhan. The truth is, I don’t think the pakhan ever left. I thought it would leave when I advised him on his decisions. I must have been naïve to think so.

Now? I’m regretting helping him at all. I’m regretting the respect I gave him, the tips, the tricks, and the support.

He doesn’t deserve it.

“You’re restraining me,” I accuse. His face remains blank, with a hint of fierce power lurking just beneath the surface. “You’re trying to make the old Liya come back. Isn’t that right?”

His features don’t shift as he asks, “Is it?”

“Yeah,” I say with a confident nod. But I’m shrinking under his intense gaze. Those eyes are cold and lifeless. “You just want me to keep my head down and submit to you.”

He looms over me while folding his hands casually behind his back. “Is that what you think?”

I flinch when he steps forward. An image springs to mind from the first day I stepped foot inside his penthouse. That private bedroom next to his was gorgeous—but all I could see was a prison holding me back and the luxury to shut me up.

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