Page 41 of Obsession of the Bratva

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

I laughed. Actually laughed.

“Really, Vera? Since when do you ask such dumb questions?”

“Just answer me.”

“Because I wanted company.”

Her hands balled into little fists. “That’s pathetic.”

“Coming from you?”

The hit landed immediately, and pain flashed across her face. Good. We were finally speaking the same language.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re jealous.”

Her eyes widened. Then narrowed. “I’m not jealous.”

“Of course you are.”

“You brought strangers into this house.”

“I brought women.”

“You brought whores.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of words.”

“Don’t play games.”

“Why not?”

“Because this isn’t funny.”

“No,” I agreed quietly. “It isn’t.”

Something shifted, and the room became heavier. More dangerous. Vera took a step toward me.

“You are doing all of this to hurt me, right? You seriously think this hurts me?”

“I know it does.”

“This is your idea of revenge?”

“It seems effective.”

She turned around angrily, a vase falling off the table and shattering on the ground. Glass exploded everywhere, and I instinctively moved forward to pull her away, but she moved back herself. She turned to look at me again.

“You are an asshole. You are a selfish, arrogant, immature bastard.”

I listened to her calmly, not knowing how to react. It was mostly because I deserved this, but partially because she looked magnificent when angry. “Are you done?”

“No!”