“Because I refuse to feel humiliated,” I said, voice rising and shaky. “Not by you. Not by anyone.”
A shock of silence grew thick between us. Our eyes clashed in the darkness.
After another beat or two, he offered a brief nod. “That’s what I like about you.”
He left the kitchen and vanished into his study.
As for me, my throat remained parched, and my bare feet were cool against the marble, but my body’s temperature wasanything but cool. I was hot all over, and a slight film of sweat coated my upper lip. My heart raced.
What did he mean?
The status quo had shifted again. I could feel it.
And I didn’t trust my husband.
Chapter
Fifteen
Kirill
I steppedout of the Escalade and welcomed the frigid air into my lungs. After five hours on the road to upstate New York, I needed a smoke—my ninth one of the trip. I’d been smoking and drinking a lot lately. Every time I thought about my wife, smiling and happy when I wasn’t around, it pissed me off.
She was supposed to be miserable in our marriage.
I leaned against the SUV, checked the time, and stared at the Supermax security prison surrounded by a thick, thirty-foot-tall concrete fence. The reason that drove me to seek revenge against Lucy was in there. He should be out soon. I rubbed my eyes. Sleep deserted me most nights, and I usually ended up sleeping on the couch in my study. I couldn’t stay in my bedroom because all I did was seethe knowing that Lucy was just on the opposite end of the hall, probably sleeping like a baby.
She usually slept until late morning. No doubt to avoid me.
The morning after our wedding, after Anya had slit her wrists and I had to deal with that too, I walked in on Lucy havingbreakfast, looking serene and well-rested, and treating me like I didn’t exist.
She had the audacity even to suggest sending flowers to Anya. My misstep was underestimating Lucy’s nosiness. If she hadn’t overheard me telling Vasquez that she was gullible, the plan to manipulate her into believing I was a charming fiancé would have gone off without a hitch. She would be in love with me, and abandoning her repeatedly so soon after our wedding would have been the ultimate humiliation and heartbreak for her.
But it backfired.
Movement through the heavy doors of the prison drew my attention to the familiar tall form that emerged. His lazy, confident strides reminded me of a panther. That was why Nikolai “Kolya” Petrov led the team of our bratva’s enforcers, but not anymore. Not after his face had been splashed all over the headlines as the suspect in the Mistress Strangler killings.
But he was finally free.
I dropped the cigarette on the ground and walked across to greet him.
His eyes met mine across the parking lot, and a grin tipped up the corner of his mouth, probably identical to the one I was wearing now.
We embraced briefly and broke apart. Kolya and I were similar in that respect. We didn’t like being touched unless it was for show or expectations.
“Good to have you back,bratishka,” I told him.
“Fucking time you got me out of this hellhole.”
We headed to the SUV. Side by side, brothers-in-arms. Once I thought Kolya was free, I would lose this feeling of missing a limb, but something was still hollow inside me. I forced the disturbing sensation away.
“Didn’t you enjoy your stay among men as depraved as you?” I drawled.
He snorted, “It was quite boring.”
He tossed his duffel into the back and slid into the passenger side. “What happened to your Porsche?”
“Not bulletproof.”
