Yet Tsepov has denied his involvement. He could simply be trying to save his own ass from retribution. It’s one thing to start an unofficial war between Bratvas, and quite another to poison apakhanwho survives the attempt.
My men are loyal, and if I don’t get to whoever is responsible first, they will take care of the problem. And it will not be pretty, quick, or merciful.
Tsepov or not, I will have my revenge, and it will serve as a warning to others who might attempt to take me down.
If only it weren’t taking me so long to heal. I still feel abominably weak, which puts me in a terrible mood. If there’s one thing I hate more than disloyalty, it’s weakness, physical or mental.
I’ve hated it ever since my first months-long stay in the hospital, recovering from third-degree burns. They required skin grafts and debridement, pain that haunts me to this day. Months of lying there, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I had survived, wondering who I would be now. I wished my mother would come into the room, hold my undamaged hand, and sing one of her Russian lullabies.
Except she was dead, and my father was too distraught to be a parent.
Vasya had been my only companion, both of us lost in our deep grief.
And now he and Dmitri are making sure the Bratva and the company keep running in my forced absence.
“Evgeny?”
The voice behind me stops my rising anger cold. When Eva slips around to face me, warmth replaces that heat.
Before the incident at the restaurant, I had craved her, hungered for the feel of her body against mine, her touch, the fire in her eyes and in her soul that stirred something in me. I’d felt protective, possessive, even infatuated.
But now?
Now this is something more profound. Something I have never experienced.
It became something deeper the moment I opened my eyes in the hospital and saw Eva there, holding my hand, as she had been since the ambulance brought me in.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, sinking into the chaise lounge beside mine. A line forms between her brows, and the corners of her mouth turn down.
“I get winded walking across the house,” I grouse. “How do you think I’m feeling?”
The crease between Eva’s brows deepens, and I fight to keep the smile from my face. I could watch every expression move across her face every day for the rest of my life and never tire of it.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I know I shouldn’t be doing it. But I can’t stay away from her. I want to be with her all the time, hear her laughter, see her smile, just talk to her. I’ve never needed anyone this badly, and it’s almost frightening. I shouldn’t feel this way about anyone. No one should have this power over me.
But I do, and I keep doing it. I keep accompanying Eva to take care of her family. I keep seeking her at night, whether it’s my bed or hers, or somewhere else in the house. When she leaves the estate, I can’t relax until she returns, worried this might be the moment she chooses to run. The moment one of my enemies might find her and use her against me.
But she hasn’t run yet. She returns. Not only does she always return, but Eva stayed with me for two weeks in the hospital, leaving my side only to shower and change. She ate hospital food, slept cramped in a chair, and got to know the nurses well enough to joke with them and bring them donuts and cookies. According to Dmitri, she didn’t leave my side for a moment, even when I was in the throes of a seizure or hooked up to multiple machines by tubes, lost to the world.
I can see the toll it’s taken on her. She’s drawn, pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Her mouth stretches into a smile that doesn’t entirely banish the worry and exhaustion from her gaze.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Fine.”
It’s a short answer. It tells me nothing, and I can see she’s not okay.
“Have you been sleeping? You don’t look well.”
Something flashes through Eva’s eyes, but she forces the smile again. “I’m fine. Really. I want to make sure you’re okay. Any muscle twitches or stiffness?”
“I’m fine. Just like I told Dmitri, my doctor, and Alona.”
The words come out sharper than I intend. Their constant concern irritates me as well as their hovering chafes.
Something flares in Eva’s eyes, and she draws away. “You know what? I’m trying to make sure you’re okay. I’m worried about you. I care for you, okay?”
Her words catch me off guard.I care for you.
