Page 87 of Ruby Malice

20

RAYNE

I’m not crying. Why should I cry? There is nothing to cry about.

I lower my head and swipe at my streaming eyes.

Okay, I’m crying a little bit. But only because I had to look at Viktoria’s naked body. That should be sexual assault. Like flashing or indecent exposure or whatever. She knew I was going to see her naked and she told me to come into the room anyway. I should sue.

Another traitorous tear falls, and I shove it away.

“He isn’t worth crying over,” I mumble.

Thankfully, there’s no one else around. Most of the other maids have left for the day. I’m the only idiot here working late.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of Kirill coming back from his trip, my brain reminds me. Traitorous bitch.

And boy, did I catch a glimpse of him. But not the same glimpse Viktoria is probably catching right now.

The thought of the two of them in bed actually makes me want to hurl. I’m supposed to go back to the break room and clock out, but I can’t be in this house for another second. Not when Kirill is back in his room with her doing—

“Ugh.” I slam my hands into the front door and shove it open. “Fuck the servant’s door.”

I march down the front steps and the driveway. I’m halfway to the road when I remember the bus I usually take is already gone. I worked late and the next one doesn’t come for an hour.

Whatever. I’ll wait at the bus stop. It’s better than being here.

Then right on cue, as if the world hasn’t shit on me enough for one day, a raindrop lands perfectly on the top of my head.

I glance up just as the gray cloud above me opens up.

“I thought it didn’t rain in Los Angeles!” I scream, actually shaking a fist at the sky.

Lovely. Kirill Zaitsev has turned me into a weepy, crazy person who shakes her fist at rainclouds.

“I hate him,” I say, brushing tears and rain off of my face. “I hate him.”

He is a manipulator and a playboy. He uses people up and tosses them aside. If we hadn’t been interrupted that night in the kitchen, he probably would have fired me the next day. No sense in keeping me around after he’d already gotten what he wanted, right?

Thank God I didn’t go there.

But shame wraps around my spine. Because I would have. I wanted to. Some small, miserable part of me still wants to… though I'll never admit it out loud.

I lift my head for a second and wave to the security camera on top of the gate. A few seconds later, the door swings open. I give a second wave to the invisible guard. Sometimes, it can take a minute before whoever is manning the cameras notices me and opens the gate, so I'm grateful for the speed. Especially given the weather.

Maybe the patter of the rain is the reason I don't hear the car driving towards me. I’m walking down the center of the driveway, moving towards the opening gate without any hint of danger at all, when there is a deafening honk behind me.

I spin around and come face to face with a set of beaming headlights.

I scream and throw myself to the side at the last possible. The car passes so closely I actually take a crunching side view mirror to the elbow on my way down. Then I land with a breath-stealing thud in the rainwater running down the gutter. The curb bites into my ribs and I cry out.

The car stops. I try to lift my head, but pain is still radiating through me. The almost-crash rang my nerves like a gong. It's going to take a minute before I can properly assess how injured I am.

The window rolls down. I don't see who is driving, but I hear their voice.

Hervoice.

"Back in the gutter where you belong," Viktoria hisses. "Kirill will get bored with you. Soon enough, he'll realize he's better than trash."

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