"The wedding night will be in my suite, naturally." His hand moves higher on my leg. "I've made special arrangements.”
I want to vomit. Want to stab him with the steak knife. Want to run screaming from this room.
Instead, I smile. "I'm sure it will be memorable."
Maksim's knuckles go white around his fork.
I glance between the two men. Does Roman know about what happened between us? Did Maksim tell him? I almost want to laugh if Roman hopes to make Maksim jealous to further some kind of pissing match between them.
Maksim doesn’t care.
I would bet he wants me in Roman’s bed to be used and abused. It would only add to my misery which is what Maksim wants.
Maximum damage.
Roman's phone buzzes. He glances at it, frowns. "Excuse me. I need to take this."
He stands, his hand trailing across my shoulders as he leaves. A reminder that he can touch me whenever he wants.
The moment he's gone, the air in the room shifts. Dangerous. Electric.
"You look uncomfortable," Maksim observes, still not looking at me.
"Strange, given I'm planning my wedding to a monster." I keep my voice low. "While the man I love watches and does nothing."
"Don't." His jaw clenches. "Don't make this about love."
"What should I make it about? Revenge? Justice?" I lean slightly toward him. “Did the two of you talk about sharing me?”
He looks directly at me.
Finally.
Finally, I see a spark of rage and jealousy.
I cock one eyebrow and reach for my wineglass.
“Don’t fucking say that,” he hisses.
“Oh, I’m sorry, do you expect me to fuck you and then go to my husband’s bed? Or would you prefer I come to you after? I have a feeling Roman’s sloppy seconds will be rather unpleasant. I’ve heard he enjoys making his women bleed.”
Maksim’s hand comes down on the table, bouncing the silverware and nearly toppling Roman’s half-empty wineglass.
Good.
I want him pissed. I want him raging. I want him jealous.
All of those emotions will be nothing compared to the hell I endure.
“Don’t.” The one word is barely a growl.
Now that I’ve managed to crack through that anger just a little, I decide to throw a Hail Mary.
"I found something. In my father's records. Payments. Big ones.”
"Stop." His eyes are cold. "Stop trying to shift blame."
"I'm not shifting blame. I'm showing you evidence—"
