I hate that I noticed.
Hate that kissing her felt like coming home after six years in hell.
Hate that every cell in my body is screaming at me to pull her close again and never let go.
She's staring at me with those wide eyes—still the same shade of blue I used to dream about in my cell—and I can see hope blooming there. Hope that I'll believe her. That I'll forgive her. That we can somehow go back to what we were.
Not a chance.
I straighten my jacket and smooth down my tie. Her hair is a mess where my fingers tangled in it. Her dress is askew. There's a scrape on her shoulder from the wall.
Evidence of my weakness written all over her.
"Fix your dress," I say coldly. "You look like someone just fucked you against a wall."
She flinches like I slapped her. Good.She should hurt. Should feel even a fraction of what I've felt.
"Maksim—"
"Don't." I hold up a hand. "Don't say my name like that. Like we're still... like you have any right to—"
“Why are you angry with me?” she whispers. “I don’t understand what’s happening right now. How are you here? I mourned you.”
I scoff. “I can see that. I guess the idea of marrying into money and power cut your grief short.”
Her eyes flash. “You asshole. You complete fucking asshole. You have no idea what my life is like. You don’t know what I’ve had to do to survive.”
I cock a brow. “I’m guessing it involved you on your back.”
Her hand comes up. I snatch her wrist. “Don’t fucking slap me again, Kira. I’m not the man you used to know. I will fucking snap your goddamn arm in two.”
She jerks her hand away. “Where were you?”
"Where have I been? You want to know where I've been?"
"Yes." Her voice is barely a whisper. "Please."
"Georgia." I let the word hang between us. "A private prison outside Tbilisi. Someone paid a lot of money to keep me there.""Who? Why?”
"Six years, Kira." I step closer again, and she presses back against the wall. "Six years of interrogation. Torture. Psychological warfare designed to break me into something useful or kill me trying. Do you want the details? Should I describe what it feels like to have your bones broken systematically? To be starved until you're desperate enough to eat things that would make you vomit? To be—"
"Stop." She's crying harder now, her hands over her mouth. "Please stop.""Why? Does it hurt to hear?" My laugh is vicious."Imagine how it felt to live through it. Imagine spending six years in hell while the woman who put you there built an empire and planned her wedding."
"I didn't put you there!" Her voice rises, desperate. "Maksim, I swear to God, I had nothing to do with your kidnapping. I thought you were dead. I wanted to die with you. I have never stopped loving you."
"You took over your family's organization within months of my disappearance." I count off on my fingers. "Built a reputation as the Ice Queen. Made strategic alliances. Became one of the most powerful players in Moscow. All while I was rotting in a cell. You needed me out of the way so you could have what you always wanted."
"I built power because I needed to survive!" She's shouting now, too loud, but I can see she doesn't care anymore. "Your family—Roman—blamed my father for your death. We were targets. I had to become strong, or we'd be killed. Don't you understand? I was trying to survive, not capitalize on your death!"
The logic is sound. Semyon made the same argument. But I can't afford to believe it.
"Convenient explanation."
"It's the truth!" She grabs for me again, but I step back. "I loved you. Iloveyou. Why would I—"
"Don't." The word comes out harsh. "Don't say that. Don't cheapen what we had with lies."
"It's not a lie!" Her voice breaks. "I never stopped loving you. Even when I thought you were dead. Even when I had to become someone else to survive. You were always—"
