“You mistake hate for indifference. Well, except for the wedding. I was pretty pissed you’d tricked me.”
“I didn’t trick you. I didn’t know it was you!” How many times do we have to go through this conversation?
“I know.” He wraps his hands around my arms and pulls me to my feet. The grip is too tight on my left arm, and I wince slightly.
“What was that?” He releases me quickly.
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing. Why did you make that face?”
“My arm’s a little sore, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“It just is.”
He grabs my wrist and shoves the sleeve of my shirt up to my shoulder. The air thickens between us. Heat rolls off of him.
“I’m okay.”
“Who did this?” He hasn’t let go. He’s inspecting the purplish bruise on my arm. “Your fucking cousin.”
“He grabbed me. I don’t think he meant?—”
“His fucking handprint is clear as day on your arm. What did he grab you with—a fucking vice?” His voice is low, controlled, but there’s an unwavering rage in his eyes.
“Kaz, we need to focus on Tommy right now, not me.”
He cups my face, pulling my gaze up to his. For a long moment he stares at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. And maybe to him, he is.
But the look in his eyes, the sensations his touch wake in me. They’re not new. I wanted to hate him after our wedding. I should have for the way he treated me, but I couldn’t.
The moment passes, and he lets me go as though my skin has burned him. He sidesteps away from me, dragging his hand through his hair roughly.
“Tommy will stay here. I will deal with the custody issue. You are not to see or speak to Dante, and if your uncle reaches out to you, ignore him,” he orders with his back to me.
An ache burns in my chest. For a moment, I had him back. Dmitri.
But he’s gone now. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.
He storms to the door, yanks it open. Mrs. Popova stands there, hand raised as though she was just about to knock.
“Dammit!” Kaz steps back, pressing his hand to his chest. “Can I open one damn door in this house without someone creeping behind it?”
Mrs. Popova drops her hand. “Sorry, but your guests have arrived”
“What guests?” he demands.
“Your brothers and their wives.”
“What do you think they’re talking about back there?” Megan, Alexander’s wife, leans out into the hall.
Kaz has left me in the living room with his sisters-in-law while he and his brothers have locked themselves away in his office. Other than a few raised curses being thrown, we haven’t heard a word from them in an hour.
“Well, they probably started with an argument about Alexander and Ivan forcing their way in here today,” Vee, Ivan’swife, says. “And he’s right. We shouldn’t have just bombarded them.”
“Yeah, but if we hadn’t, Kaz would have just kept dodging us.” Megan folds her arms over her chest and plops down on the couch.
