Page 63 of Dangerous Promises

I start to mumble, pulling away, pushing Alexei off of me and stumbling to get out from under him as fast as I can. His words are sharp and they slam right into the gut of me, tears fill my eyes and I can't stop them from streaming down my face. I can't stop him from seeing my grief.

I slip out of bed, falling onto the floor and crawling to the door, using the handle to pull myself upright. I don't stop to see how Alexei reacts before I am crying like a flood and running out of his room in only my pajamas.

Chapter

Twenty-Five

Alexei

Iknow my words have hit their mark when she crumples onto the floor and crawls to the door. Fleeing from me without even being able to look at me as she goes. I smirk in satisfaction as I stand up from the bed, righting my pants and locking the door with a flick of my wrist.

I fold my arms as I look back at my bed and frown. The sheets are thrown about like a mess and I can see the wet patch on the bed from here. She used me, and that's fine because I was fucking using her. She wouldn't say what I wanted her to. She came in here to kill me. So she deserved every second of pain she got.

She wouldn't regret it for a second if she'd caused me any pain. The frown lines on my brow deepen. I don't care what she thinks of me. I don't care if I'm just a distraction. I just don't care. That's not what we're here for.

I feel something heavy in my chest, and I drop my arms as adrenaline floods through my blood.

I pace the room, frowning and scratching at my head like I can rip my own thoughts out into the open. I know what I feel is satisfaction but there's a layer of something else hiding just beneath it that I can't shake off me.

It was clear that his name held power over her. That it was the best way to destroy her. She'd made a mistake by letting herself have a weakness in his name. She should've trained better and prepared like I did. No one can use my brother's name against me.

She looked so devastated as she ran from here.

Which is… good. Because that was exactly my intention when I said it.

Something in my chest pangs at that thought.

That was the point... That's what I meant to do. She disrespected me, used me to come all over my fucking cock, and then backed out like a wimp. She deserved this.

My hand touches the pillow and comes away wet.

Fuck.

She was crying. I made her cry. I know I did. I saw it and I reveled in it as the uncontrollable tears welled in her eyes and she struggled to get out from underneath me.

I stumble backward and fall into the armchair, running a shocked hand over my mouth.

I meant to make her cry. So it's fine. That's what I intended to do. I wanted to hurt her. To harm her. To make her feel the worst of the grief that I have felt.

So I did.

But… I made her cry.

It's like that knife she pointed at me slices right through my chest.

Oh, God.

I run my hand through my hair. I wanted this. I wanted to see her hurt. But my pillow is wet now, because I hurt her. Because I wanted her. So I hurt her instead.

I bend over at the waist, sun catching my eye as I look outside to see morning has come.

Right now, the door looks like it's my worst enemy. But I can't shake the feeling that I've pushed a little too hard. Gone a little too far.

My grief is worse than hers, of course. She deserves everything she gets. She put herself in this position. Nobody forced her to sneak into my room. Nobody forced her to hold that knife to my throat. To beg me to fuck her.

I nod to myself.

This is her doing.