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CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Leo and I had not spoken since he practically shoved me into his car and drove away from my father’s house. I had dared speak. Though I was not scared of Leo, at all, I could feel the anger that was radiating off of him, and my survival instinct kept me from opening my mouth.
“Where are we?” I asked, as Leo pulled into a garage. My mind had been wandering as Leo drove. I just thought that Leo would be taking me home.
“I’m hungry, so I thought that we might be able to get takeout.”
I opened the door, following after him quickly. “What?”
Leo shrugged slightly. “There’s a great pizza place near here. I would take you out to it, but I’m not in the mood to go out tonight.”
My heels clanked against the concrete as I rushed to get in the elevator. Leo was moving at like 100 miles per hour, and my short legs could barely keep up. As we stood in the elevator, we were both quiet.
I didn’t know what to say, and Leo looked like he was going to punch the wall if someone said something to him that he did not like.
The ding of the elevator made me jump just slightly, but I was glad to see that we were on Leo’s floor. I too was hungry, and I was also curious to talk.
As we walked into Leo’s home, I was surprised that it looked a little different from the last time that I was here, which had not been a long time ago. “Did you get new pillows?” I asked.
Leo stopped from where he was in the kitchen. He’d been pulling out takeout menus the moment we walked into the door, ignoring me in his search for dinner. Maybe he really was hungry, I thought as I watched him.
“What?”
I gestured to the couch. “Did you get new pillows?”
“Oh,” he said, as he turned back to pulling out the takeout menus. “I did. You mentioned it was dark in here, so I thought that I’d take your advice and lighten it up. Honestly, I don’t always spend a lot of time here, so I hadn’t thought a lot about the comfort of the space.”
He shrugged as though it was not that big of a deal.
Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them, and I hastily wiped them away and sniffled as I tried to hold my emotions back.
“Katarina?” Leo rushed forward and placed his hand on my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I could not look at Leo without feeling myself starting to become emotional once more, even though I was trying not to, especially since there was no reason to be upset. Both my father and grandmother had said a lot worse to me in my life, and even if they hadn’t, my father was willing to pass me over and sell me off without blinking.
“Katarina,” Leo’s voice was deep, and I could feel his thumb pressing against my cheek as he tried to calm me. “Tell me.”
I bit my lip and tried to calm myself. “You didn’t have to get the pillows.”
His brow rose. “You're upset about the pillows? I thought that you would like them.”
“I’m just surprised that you would care enough about my opinion to buy the pillows.” I could not remember a time when anyone cared much about what I had to say. It was part of the reason that I wanted to be Pakhan. Women in the Bratva were expected to just sit there and look pretty. They should not make comments about anything, and when they did, no one cared.
Leo’s mouth turned into a deep frown. “The way that your father and grandmother treat you is wrong.”
I released a heavy sigh and turned my head, so that his skin was no longer on my own. The feeling of Leo’s skin on my own always made my mind go blank. There was something about his presence that made me lose my good sense.
“I appreciate you sticking up for me, but they weren’t wrong,” I said with a shrug. “I did slip out from my guards.”
“And went to Boston.”
I stiffened. “What?” My eyes narrowed in on him, and I realized that he was looking at me with a blank face. I was starting to realize that he kept his face emotionless when he was angry. “Are you following me?”
“I am not following you.”
I snorted. “Okay, so you are having me followed.”
His silence was loud, and I took it as a confirmation. I threw my hands up in frustration. I turned my head and pressed my hand to my forehead as I tried to keep the headache that I could feel coming on at bay. “You are no better than my father,” I said. “Actually, you are worse. My father at least has the decency to let me know what he thinks of me to my face. He doesn’t pretend to take me seriously, only to have me followed.”
