Page 13 of Unholy Tsar

When I’m alone, I heave a sigh and roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The lies just keep piling up, and I feel like shit for taking advantage of Bree’s kindness. But fuck, I have to do what I have to do to survive.

I’ll wait for thirty minutes to make sure Bree’s gone before I dare to get out of bed.

Turning over on my side, I quietly wish that my bedroom window at least had a nice view. Then, all of a sudden, the door swings open, and I sit up in surprise.

Is Bree back already? No, it’s barely been ten minutes since she left.

Yet there she is, and behind her is Vincent, her head of security. He has a forbidding scowl on his face. I gulp, turning my attention to my friend. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently, I can’t go unless you go too. I didn’t realize we had become a package deal.” She adds a snippy note in her voice as she shoots an annoyed glare at Vincent.

“What?” I ask, totally lost.

“You have to join us,” Bree repeats. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t have to sit in for the lesson.”

I steal a glance at Vincent, who is still giving me a hard stare. Does he know I’m faking being sick? Shit. I drag myself out of bed, trying to play it off. “That’s fine. I’m sure I’ll feel better by the time we get there.”

Bree gives me a sympathetic smile, and we leave her apartment. The car ride is quiet and tense, with Vincent tossing me a glare here and there. Bree seems oblivious, though, and I don’t call her attention to it. Instead, I close my eyes and rest my head against the cool tinted window, trying to escape the tension for just a moment.

“We’re almost there.” Bree gently squeezes my hand, probably thinking I’m tired because of the long drive. “I still don’t understand why we have to force a sick person to come all the way out here.” She directs that last comment at Vincent.

I open my eyes to see him give her a curt nod. “I’m afraid that Mr. Smolov insisted she join us.”

“Uncle Maksim? But why?” Bree bites her bottom lip as she glances at me worriedly. I close my eyes again so she can’t see the concern in them.

Fuck, what does Maksim want now? I shiver, remembering my encounter with him last night. He already knows I’m not the daughter of a don. Did he find out more? Is that why he wants to see me? My thoughts spiral to darker places. Does he have something nefarious planned? Like, say a torture session?

I shiver again, my unease creeping into every muscle as I recall all those rumors about just how ruthless he is. He wouldn’t really torture me… would he?

“Can you turn on the heat?” Bree’s request startles me, and I reopen my eyes. “Miss Lombardi is cold.”

What? Oh, she must have mistaken my shivers for being cold.

“No, it’s fine,” I protest weakly.

“No, it’s not fine,” she insists, her eyes fixed on Vincent until he complies. “I’m sure if Maksim knew you were sick, he wouldn’t have asked you to be here.”

I don’t bother to say anything. Instead, I stew in my worry until we pull up into the driveway of Bree’s parents' beautiful mansion. My heart sinks, and my belly churns with nerves at what awaits me inside.

“What could have suddenly caused this sickness?” Bree questions as we get out of the car. “Could you be feeling homesick? Missing California that badly?”

“No, screw California. I have nothing but bad memories and nightmares from there.” I blurt out without thinking. My hand automatically goes to my bare ring finger, and a chill runs through me. I just want to forget that time in my life ever happened.

Bree gives me a weird look, and I realize I lied to her yesterday about how I was thinking of California. Damn it. This is what happens when you lie so much; you forget to keep track of those lies.

When we get to the library, Maksim is already waiting for us—and he’s looking frustratingly hot in another slick custom-fitted suit.

Goddamn.

I used to scoff at the Idea of younger girls swooning over older men, but oh, do I get it now. He brings the term “silver fox” to life with a short, well-trimmed beard and a head full of gorgeous silver and black hair.

My fingers curl as I remember running my hands through his silky hair.

It doesn’t help that he has the face of a Greek god, too: sharp jawline, full lips, cheekbones even I’m jealous of. And those eyes… they seal the deal for me—a rich honey brown filled with a carnal knowledge I’d do anything for.

“You’re late.” Maksim’s sharp voice snaps me out of my musings.

What the fuck am I doing right now? Lusting after the very man who could end me?