“Is that true, Vaughn?” Kirill asks, and only when his son gives a sharp nod does he remove his hand from his waistband.
I guess I’m not going to get killed tonight—for now.
Honestly, I wouldn’t risk anything with them. Not only do I know they’re badass ex-spetsnaz—since Vaughn sings their praises all the time—but they both look guarded.
I wouldn’t be surprised if Kirill decides to put a bullet in my head just for the fuck of it.
“Why haven’t you told us you reconnected with Yulian again, Vinyoshka?” Alexandra asks, watching her son closely.
“It’s not important,” he says assertively, cold-bloodedly twisting the knife in my chest.
The smile I’m forcing cracks at the edges.
Not important.
He said thatIam not important.
The past few months that I considered the best time of my life were justnotimportant.
Heat blossoms in my chest as if a fiery being is sitting right on top of my heart, and I need to move before I knock Vaughn’s teeth out in front of his parents.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I murmur, then push through the crowd gathered around the painting and head straight for the exit.
Fuck this. I should’ve never come here.
The pain of not seeing him this weekend pales in comparison to the pain of being so coldly treated by him in public.
I rush to the parking lot, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. The smoke blows in the air, forming a cloud into the night, but it doesn’t expel the pain that’s lurking in my chest.
Fuck.
The lot is lit with dim lights that illuminate the cars lined up throughout. As soon as I reach the rental bike, I kick it. My foot explodes with pain, but I do it again, then again.
“Yulian, calm down.”
My chest constricts at the sound of Vaughn’s voice, and I push back my hair with one hand as I take a drag off the cigarette with the other.
“Calm down?” I spin around and face him. He’s shrouded in the harsh glow of lights, his features guarded.
I release a cloud of smoke in his face, but he doesn’t flinch. “All right, I’m calm. Does that mean I’m important now?”
“You know I didn’t mean that,” he says apologetically. “I only said that because my parents were there.”
“Idon’tknow!” My voice rises, and he flinches. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinking half of the time, Vaughn. You refuse to move to the island, you refuse to let me in completely, and I just don’t know where we stand. You make me feel like the most important person in one breath, then act like a stranger in your home territory in the next. It’s giving me fucking whiplash.”
“Yulian—”
I grab him by the throat and swing him around, shoving him against the bike. “Tell me you love me.”
“W-what?”
“Tell me you have feelings for me. Tell me youfeelanything toward me. Just fucking say something.”
His eyes widen, and a muscle flexes in his jaw. “What’s with this all of a sudden?”
I snarl as I drive him against the bike, his elbows buckling under the force. My lips seize his, savage and consuming, teeth biting, tongues clashing in a war of fury. He pushes back, but my grip tightens around his throat, pinning him, dragging another groan from him as I kissharder, deeper. Every ounce of rage, every scar of pain, every shard of resentment detonates between our mouths in a raw, uncontainable mess.
He mumbles something in my mouth, but I don’t hear it, too lost in my own head to listen to whatever he has to say, biting and sucking and punishing him for not liking me as much as I like him.
