Page 6 of Anton

But that’s exactly what I am: a monster.

She wasn’t scared of you.

Stop thinking about her. She’s going to be dead soon enough. Konstantin will give the order, and it will be over.

Volchok will be mad.

He’ll get over it.

“So, Anton…” Sloane peers at me all sweetly, and it’s almost painful watching her try this hard to make conversation with me.

“Yes?”

“How are you? Anything new?”

My brows pull in as I glare over at Kirill, wondering what the hell is wrong with his wife. Why is she asking me this? Like she knows something.

Kirill chuckles. “She’s got it in her head that Thora likes you. You know, Thora.”

He shoves a piece of bread into his mouth and tries to hide another laugh, but fails. Of course Sloane doesn’t know what I have to do with Harlan Whitlock’s youngest daughter.

“Why would Thora like me?” I reach for the plate of roasted potatoes before grabbing a rib.

“Well…” Sloane shrugs. “I saw the way she was looking at you at our wedding, and I figured maybe there was something there.”

“There’s nothing there.” I fix her with a hard stare. “At all.”

She recoils from my sharp tone.

“Relax.” Kirill’s jaw clenches.

I give him a nod, my version of an apology, but there’s nothing going on with that wretched woman. Nothing.

I don’t care about the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles, or the way she looked at me like she was searching for something that isn’t there. It hasn’t been there for a long time, longer than I can even remember.

A laugh clips out, and when I catch Aleksei gawking, I realize it came from me.

“What’s so funny?” he asks while his wife, Fiona, stares at me too like I’m a zoo animal.

“Nothing.” I shrug. “Nothing at all.”

When dinner finally ends, I get ready to head out back to my own place, full of fucking solitude.

“Anton.” Konstantin’s voice carries behind me.

I shut my eyes, swallowing a groan before I turn to face him. “What is it?”

“How’s it going?” He leans in. “With her.”

“Fine. Observing. Just like you wanted.”

He nods once. “Good. Good.”

“Need me to kill her yet?”

A dry smirk tugs his mouth. “You seem quite eager to get rid of her.”

“What can I say? I’m an overachiever.”