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Avoiding the guns as best I can, I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in his muscled chest. His body is strung tight, and I wonder if he got any sleep last night. “Are you mad at me?” I ask, bracing myself for his anger, too.
I might deserve it after standing in front of a loaded gun.
He pops a bullet from the chamber of each gun before shifting them around to his back. I don’t make the task easy by standing in the way, but he doesn’t try to move me.
“I am not mad.” Tentatively, he brushes a large hand against my waist and cinches his arm around me. “You did what you thought best. You followed heart.” He sighs. “Sometimes, heart can make bad decisions.”
“Amen to that.”
His lips curve into a crooked smile, stretching the scar jutting through his upper lip. “Be careful. The gods do not favor wicked men.”
“Good thing I’m not a man.”
He hums softly. “You are not man, that is true. They may spare you for being fox.” The smallest chuckle rumbles through his chest, and it makes my heart soar. I’ve never known Ezra to crack a joke. I didn’t know he could.
He sobers up quickly and cups my cheek in his rough palm. “But we may not be so lucky. You love wicked men, lisichka. Things do not always go in our favor.”
I have a hard time accepting that. “Are you trying to scare me off?” I wrap my arms around his neck and run my fingers through the jet-black hair at the base of his neck. “Because it won’t work.”
“Never.” He grumbles deep in his chest, sending vibrations through mine. A delicious shiver rolls down my spine, and I lean up on my tiptoes. He helps me close the distance between our lips, and even though my heart hurts, I cling to my wicked man tightly, letting him soothe away the pain one kiss at a time.
Chapter 25
Valentina
Mikhail meets us in the hallway before we reach Andrei’s office. “What happened? Andrei won’t say anything—” His eyes snag on Ezra’s hand holding mine, and his lips curve into a grin. He loses his train of thought and takes position on the opposite side as Ezra, linking his arm with mine and taking my hand. Once he laces our fingers together, he lifts our hands to his lips and presses a kiss to our joined knuckles.
I try not to roll my eyes. It’s a little over the top, but still kind of cute that he gets jealous over such a little thing as hand-holding.
We walk in silence to Andrei’s office. If I were tied up and half naked, this might be reminiscent of when Ezra first dragged me here. Sadly, neither of those things are true. I have a feeling that if I were ass-up on the desk now, the outcome would be much more agreeable for all of us.
Andrei stands behind his desk, staring down at photographs organized into neat rows. Some photos are stacked three layers deep, while others remain as singles. He doesn’t look up as we stand opposite him.
I decide to break the ice myself. “So, tell me, what’s so damning about my grandmother that you want her buried six feet under?” Mikhail’s grip on my hand tightens, while Ezra turns to stone beside me.
Andrei rearranges some of the photographs, delicately picking one up and replacing it with another. “Oh, she won’t be buried, Valentina. I’ll make sure of that.”
Ice rushes through my veins. “You wouldn’t.”
I’m sure Mikhail has told him all about my breakdown at my father’s grave. I hate the bastard for not burying my mother.
If Andrei kills my grandmother and refuses to bury her, not only will my heart shatter, but I’ll have to pick up a damn shovel and bury her myself.
No one deserves to be disrespected in death like that. It’s cruel punishment, especially for someone who has done nothing wrong.
Andrei looks up, a picture of calm as he meets my eyes. “I will. And you’ll agree with me, soon enough.”
Dread fills my gut. “What do you mean?”
He gestures to the photographs. “Come have a look. Tell me what you see.”
I take a step forward, releasing both Ezra and Mikhail’s hands. They stay behind, silently watching me join Andrei on the other side of the desk. Once I’m standing beside Andrei, he cinches his arm around my waist to hold me in place. Warmth radiates from his body, but the heat makes me sick to my stomach.
I scan the photographs, starting at the top row and viewing them from left to right, like how you would read a book. It takes me a moment to understand what I’m looking at. Some of the images are blurry, like they were taken in a rush. Others are crystal-clear—one such picture has my face in focus as I smile politely at someone speaking to me. An emerald green dress hugs my skin, with Andrei looped through my arm as we cavort with socialites in a well-lit ballroom.
The mayor’s birthday party.
I pick up the photograph. It’s not a bad shot. “That guy must have taken this. The photographer, at the party.” He shouldn’t have been able to save any of the party snapshots after Andrei smashed his camera and ordered his team to confiscate any backups. A shiver runs down my spine.
