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Aleksander flashes me a deadly stare, as if I murdered his children and ate them for breakfast. “He’s not going to get hurt. He can take care of himself.”
“You don’t sound so convincing. You’re thinking it, aren’t you? That something will go south and there will be no one to protect your precious boss.”
“Miss…” There’s a warning in his tone.
“What?”
“Are you enjoying this?”
I take a sip of my drink and revel in the burn of the vodka. “Maybe. I’m bored because you guys decided it was a good idea to track me, so forgive me if I choose to enjoy your misery a little.”
“Your father is up there, too.”
“He’ll be fine. If anything happens, everyone will take the bullet for him, starting with Kirill.”
I can hear the grinding of Aleksander’s teeth, but before he can say anything, Damien waltzes in, carrying a glass of vodka and making a show of drinking it with leisurely calm.
“If it isn’t my future wife.” he speaks in an unusually cheerful tone. “And the pretty boy Sasha. And here I thought you were Kirill’s shadow.”
“He decided not to watch when he actually gets shot.” I mean it as a joke, but Aleksander goes rigid, then storms in the direction of the stairs without a word.
“What’s up with that crazy motherfucker?” Damien watches him for a while before he dismisses him and focuses on me. “Were you a naughty girl or a good girl with him?”
“I don’t see why that should concern you.”
A manic smirk lifts his lips. “Hmm…and here I thought you were a docile lamb, my Nastyusha. See, I prefer the fight, the running and clawing, it makes the chasing and breaking process thrilling.”
I swallow, my heart jackhammering in my throat, but I refuse to show it. I refuse to show that he scares the shit out of me, that whenever I see his face, it’s not his handsome looks that greet me, it’s a devil in disguise.
So I inhale for a few more seconds. “Shouldn’t you be with them? This whole fight is about you.”
“Nah. It’s not a real fight, so I’m not interested. Sergei started this mess and he can sort it out himself.”
“I thought you wanted to marry the Japanese girl,” I try in a softer tone.
“Nope, Rai and that fucker Kirill arranged it for some diplomaticYakuza-Bratvashit. I couldn’t care less.”
“Won’t she be sad that you’re breaking off the engagement?”
“Why the fuck would she? We haven’t even met.”
Damn it.
I foolishly hoped there would be some form of attachment between them, that I could get in touch with her and come up with a plan to break off this engagement, but if they’re strangers, I have no hope there.
What was I thinking, anyway? This brute is not the type to get attached to anyone or anything.
“Besides, I’m allergic to anyone who doesn’t drink vodka.” He grins, clinking his glass against mine. “At least you do.”
“I don’t love you, Damien,” I murmur slowly. “I don’t want to marry you.”
“Love?” He appears genuinely perplexed. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“What Rai and Kyle have.” I motion at them, then at Adrian’s wife, who’s talking with her husband’s guard, but her attention is firmly on where he disappeared to with Papa and the others. “What Adrian and Lia have.”
“You mean marriage.”
“No. Love and marriage are different. Love is when you can’t breathe when the other isn’t there. It’s when living becomes a chore, and waking up every day is an accomplishment. It’s when you can’t stop thinking about them and need them close so you can finally exist.”
