“Because it’s funny,” I say, lighting a cigarette to ease the burn in my side. “You wouldn’t understand.”
He crosses his arms, unimpressed. “I understand obsession.”
I exhale smoke toward the ceiling. “She’s different. I’m not just obsessed with her.”
“She’s a problem.”
“Most good things are.”
Ivan sighs. “You think if you bury your cock in her, she’ll stay. As if she’s some type of virgin.” He scoffs. “She will pick her family over you.”
“She might pick me.” I smile.
“No, she won’t,” he whispers, probably tired of having this same conversation with me.
“Because it’s not love. You’re setting yourself up to fail. And you never fail.”
I sneer. “She will feel it eventually, she did before.”
That earns a ghost of a smirk, but it fades as fast as it comes. “You were less of a dick then.”
He’s lucky I value his life, otherwise I might’ve killed him for that comment.
He digs into his pocket and tosses something.
A black rubber band.
“What the hell is that?” I ask.
“Try wearing it,” he says. “When you feel the rage, snap it. And try being nicer to her.”
I stare at it, disgust crawling up my neck. “You want me to train myself like a dog?”
“I want you to stop chasing a woman who wants to kill you,” Ivan growls. “But since you refuse, I’m sharing a method that worked for me.”
The words hang there, and I twist the band in my fingers. “This is stupid. She doesn’t want me to be nice.”
“I watched her the same as you, she wants control. For her to have that, you’ll have to be nice.”
Nice?
Aurelia has never been interested in nice. The goddamn guy she was obsessed with never treated hernice.
He leaves before I can say anything else, the slam of the door echoing through the room.
For a long moment, I stare at that stupid rubber band, and then at the bathroom door.
I slide it over my wrist, not because I think it’ll work, or because I think she’ll like it, but because I could use a backup plan.
Either way, I’ll try my methods first.
Chapter 52
Aurelia
Iwalk out of the shower, a towel wrapped tightly around my body, to find a white shirt and a pair of Nikolai’s black boxer briefs on the bed.
I look over to see him sending a message on his phone, unbothered in a new black shirt, like I didn’t just stab him.
