You know nothing, whore.
It wasn’t a denial. And the insult only further confirmed to me that every word Leks had said about my brothers was true… Papa is not the man I thought he was.
Leks tenses as the words land in the room with a harsh echo. His arms tighten around me and his midnight-blue eyes harden to black slate. His gaze slides somewhere far away and intentional.
There was never any love lost between him and my father, but why do I just feel like I signed his death warrant? I’m glad I left out the part where my father said I’d be ruined for their remarriage plans… Whoever that prospective fiancé is, speaking his name in this room would have brought him in for a dark fate at the hands of Leks and his men.
A flicker of regret passes through me as I assess the stony set of Leks's jaw. He’s angry. I’m angry, too, but I have no power to do anything about it.
I gulp back another sob and wipe my eyes with my palms, forcing my lips up into a weak smile. It’s the best I can do.
“He probably didn’t mean it.”
Leks frowns and arches one eyebrow at me, looking around at the ruined canvases in the art studio, making it clear he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. You don’t fall into a pit of despair over words that didn’t mean anything.
“I’m over-reacting,” I explain, only to be met withanother skeptical look, his intense gaze narrowing on my face. “I shouldn’t care what he thinks. Not after what he did.”
“But you do.”
The smile drops away. I can’t deny it. I nod, feeling stupid. Like a child who can’t believe that Santa is not real.
Leks lets out a long breath, his throat bobbing. “I shouldn’t have told you what he did to your brothers.”
How can he think that? I frown. “You’re the first person who was brave enough to tell me the truth.”
He catches my hand on his cheek. “Only because it was convenient to me.”
“I asked you to.”
“Only because I let you know it was an option. It was selfish. If I hadn’t told you, you’d still be happy.”
I shake my head. “That doesn’t count. Being happy when you’re really being lied to. That’s not real happiness.”
Leks pauses to wipe another track of tears from my cheek. “You’re beautiful when you cry,zolotse. Still, I hate seeing you like this.”
His breathing deepens and we sit in silence in the art studio, just the comforting feeling of his solid body wrapped protectively over mine. I’m only faintly aware of a rocking motion as Leks takes me upstairs and tucks me into bed.
31
LEKS
Iroll my wedding ring between my thumb and forefinger, cursing the burden of this gold band and the reminder of the woman who wears a matching one. From the start of this thing, it’s impaired my judgement. She’s impaired my judgement.
Maksim Bryusov’s daughter might be so fucking irresistible that being with her feels like a drug, but his toxic blood runs through her veins. Doesn’t being poisoned feel just like being drugged? I hope so. That would explain it.
I’ve been a fucking idiot where Natalia is concerned and the evidence proves it.
The secure vaults have been seeing an unusual amount of activity.Private yachts coming in and out of the marina. The area where the yachts show up is one of the only remaining Bryusov strongholds in the port district. When we track them, we find they’re connected to a network of old-money oligarchs. Maksim Bryusov’s kind of people.
And the pace is picking up. Like someone knows exactly how close we are to figuring out what’s going on with Maksim and the paintings and they’re getting rid of the evidence.
All in the past week. Since Natalia learned about our plan. Since I told her.
Since I trusted her.
She’d seemed so much happier with her paintings, slipping away to the vault every morning with Dasha following her like a shadow.I was relieved at the improvement in her mood as she got into the routine. She’d scared me, that day and night she spent in her studio with nothing but paint and an entire lake of tears. Maksim’s a bastard who knows how to twist the knife, but I hated the way he’d known how to bring out darkness even in his own golden daughter.
Now I wonder how much of it was an act. Her cunt gets undeniably wet for me, sure, but it’s starting to seem like the innocent, sheltered heiress is more of a professional spy.
