“FYI, I wouldn’t marry you even if God ordained it. You must be taking some good shit. Is that why your ass so skinny?” I taunted.
Targen leaned forward and turned toward me.
“Watch that pretty little mouth, shorty. I’d hate for you to have to eat all them words. You gon’ be my wife, Theory. Get used to the idea.”
His words touched somewhere deep inside me, made me think, for one moment, about?—
I shook my head. “Whateva, with your delusional ass. Do you do anything except imagine shit? Fucking liar.”
Targen stiffened, his expression crumbling, changing into something that ignited a spark of fear in me.
“Take me home,” I said, hating the shakiness of my voice.
“I am.”
“You going the wrong way, then.”
“Nah,milaya. I’m taking you toourhome,” he said calmly.
My head swiveled, and I glared at him. “Yeah, your mind is gone. Take me home before I kick your ass!”
It was a ridiculous threat, but I felt wired enough, so full of anger and fear and feelings I couldn’t or wouldn’t name, to take his big ass down. He just smirked at me.
And the driver kept going.
“Targen, I-”
I stopped when he cupped my cheek, the molten silver of his eyes boring into mine. His touch was warm, unexpectedly familiar, and my already racing heart went into overdrive. I fought the urge to close my eyes and sink into the soft caress against my cheek.
“All those nights… I thought of you saying my name,milaya. I missed that,” he whispered.
His voice was low and intoxicating, a sound meant to lull me into forgetting the weeks of lies and broken promises he’d fed me. I’d worked too hard to heal from that heartache. I knocked his hand away, and then, just because, I slapped his face with all the rage bottled inside me.
“Don’t you fucking touch me,” I spat. “Liar- ahh!”
I squealed as he grabbed me, not tight enough to hurt or really restrain me. But it was his face—the look on it as he growled at me.
“Don’t fucking call me that again. I don’t lie. I’m back, and I’m going to give you everything I promised.”
And just as quickly, he released me and settled back into his seat.
“So,” he said, his voice smooth like he hadn’t just snapped at me. “I would ask what you’ve been up to, wifey, but I already know.”
My memory had failed me.Even on the coldest, darkest nights in Russia, when I’d needed the image of her to carry me through God’s frozen version of hell, I hadn’t quite remembered.
Theory was gorgeous, fucking breathtaking. Even now, with that mean ass scowl, she was so damn pretty. Her face was made up lightly, her plump lips glossed, a cute little chain bridging her button nose, her septum ring inlaid with pink stones. Light brown eyes shot daggers at me, but I didn’t even care. I was just glad to be in her presence. My eyes drifted down to the lush curves of her body. She’d regained some of the weight I’d seen on her in pictures, and that shit looked good as hell. Glistening honey-gold skin was displayed in all the areas her little black dress didn’t cover. Too many areas, I realized as I peeked at hergenerous cleavage and those thick, body-buttered thighs. She’d worn this for that nigga.
Killing him was back on my mind.
Parting those creamy thighs was on it even more.
If I touched her now, though, she’d probably claw my eyes out. I’d pushed her boundaries enough tonight, sending Mikhail in when I’d gotten Maxim's last-minute phone call. I was always aware of Theory’s past trauma, never wanting to trigger her.I’d promised Mikhail that I would purée and flambé everything in his abdomen and his skull if he shook my baby. Good for him that he’d taken me seriously.
“The fuck you mean, you know what I’ve been up to?” she demanded.
“Too pretty for that language,milaya. And I mean just what I said, Theory. My absence didn’t mean the total lack of my presence.”
She scoffed. “Oh, okay. So, now you on some mystical, philosophical stuff? I got one Epiphany in my life. I don’t need you.”
