Page 39 of Bratva Prince
I wanted to laugh in the face of her trauma, jeering and taunting her until she fell apart before me—but I couldn’t. For some goddamn reason, I couldn’t find it in me to make her feel worse, despite how desperately I wanted to.
Because I wanted her to feel the pain that I’d felt knowing she betrayed me.
But I also couldn’t bear to see her in pain.
Life was a bitch.
Needing some time to myself, I told Willow I’d be back after a while and dug a grave for Andrey. It wasn’t easy without a shovel, but I didn’t stop until it was done, pouring buckets of sweat in the process.
When I’d finished, I searched for a few wildflowers, snatching up some white and yellow flowers, and arranging them next to the gravestone I’d made from a piece of metal that tore off the plane.
“Andrey… You did it, ol’ buddy. You dead-stuck the landing. I’m proud of you. I owe you my life, man. It’s my fault you’re dead and I’m so, so sorry, Andrey. I should’ve never made you fly the jet. You were a good man, and I’m going back to celebrate your life with a bottle of wine. I just wish you were here to celebrate with me.” I patted the grave, mumbling, “Rest easy, buddy,” before heading back to the camp.
My eulogy was short, and wasn’t overly sentimental, but it didn’t matter. My intentions were pure and honest.
When I got back, Willow was waiting with two flasks, filled with wine, holding one out to me with an eager smile. But it wasn’t enough to brighten my melancholy mood. I’d just attended a one man funeral for a guy who deserved the entire bratva to be there.
“I know it’s not your typical wine glass, but it’s better than nothing, right?”
“Uh, sure,” I responded, only half paying attention. I grabbed the flask, taking a long swig and tucking it into the belt of my pants as I walked right past her and to the firepit. Thank god my emergency pack had a fire starter—all I had to do was flick it a few times and a spark ignited. Absently, I piled the wood and got to work on getting the fire going.
“Ivan,” Willow said from behind me, but I ignored her. She said my name again. “Ivan.”
“What?” I barked out, turning to face her with a glower. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so harsh. It wasn’t her fault Andrey was dead.
But in a way, it was.
She was the reason we were heading back to Moscow. If she’d been honest with me from the start, I wouldn’t have had to scheme and plot against her, dragging her and Andrey on that jet. Maybe I wouldn’t have left in such a haste, and verified the plane was ready to fly.
It was her fault we were in this situation.
Her fault.
Her mouth closed, and she turned away, walking in the opposite direction. “Nothing.”
19
Willow
Hot and cold. That is how I would describe Ivan Koslov. One minute, he’s the sweetest man I’d ever met, turned sour and distrustful by the next. A constant balance of push and pull, love and hate—which perfectly described our relationship toward one another.
I couldn’t stand him. Hated him with every fiber of my being. Yet, I wanted to be near him, to grow closer to him. When my mind thought of our night on the beach—a night filled with passion and lust, trust and understanding—I wanted to run into his masculine arms and seek comfort and solace, to feel safe.
But when I remember how he betrayed me—drugged me, threatened to barter with my father over me as if I were a piece of meat they were fighting over—I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch him,killhim.
Hot and cold.
Love and hate.
An unremitting tug of war with my emotions.
And the most current one…hate. I hated how he’d snapped at me when I was only offering him some wine. Was he angry I opened the bottle without him?
No, it couldn’t be that. There was something else going on, something I didn’t understand—and it started with that talk on the jet. Those accusations I couldn’t figure out, couldn’t interpret because he gave me nothing to base it on. All he’d done was spout nonsense about plotting against him.
Enough.
I was over his bullshit. Over his lies, manipulation, his constant back and forth with his feelings toward me. He couldn’t treat me like this without at least an explanation as to why. I deservedthatmuch.
