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“I thought we were married, but it turned out it wasn’t legally binding. I didn’t realize that until after he had drained out my bank accounts and disappeared on me.”
“Shit,” she says flatly. Her voice lacks the sympathy most people feel when they hear my story. Instead, Nikita’s eyes narrow. “And how long after having your bank account drained did you meet my brother?”
Again, there’s no need to read between the lines. Nikita is making it obvious she thinks she understands my motives.
But Anthony’s attention on me is a physical weight I can’t shake. I can taste his desperation to talk to me, and I can’t focus on navigating the labyrinth of Nikita’s skepticism.
“Not long,” I admit. I’ll figure out how this piece of information will factor into her opinion of me later. “Will you excuse me for just a moment?”
“Be my guest.”
I can feel her eyes daggering into my back as I make my way over the bar, but I need to be fully focused on what’s in front of me. Onwhois in front of me.
Anthony gets to his feet when I’m still half a restaurant away. By the time I reach him, his expression bleeds contrition.
He looks worse for the wear. He’s lost weight in the last few months, making his nose and eyes more prominent, gaunt, mildly horrifying.
“Baby—”
“Don’t!” I hiss, slamming my hand down on the bar counter. “How dare you show up like this? After all this time? After the way you left things?”
He swallows. His throat bobs with the effort. “I have to explain myself.”
“I don’t care about your godforsaken explanation, Anthony. Nothing can justify what you did to me.”
“Baby—”
“Don’t you ‘baby’ me. I was never your wife, so I sure as hell am not your ‘baby.’”
A part of me actually expects him to deny it. To say it was some misunderstanding.
When he doesn’t, staring instead down at his feet, I feel my anger rise.
“You know what? Fuck you, Anthony. Did you really think a Campari Orange was all it would take to get back in my life? I’m married now.” I stick my giant diamond ring in his face. “It’s too damn late.”
“Yeah… I know.”
That makes me stop short. “You know what?”
He nods and raises his eyes back to mine. “The word on the street is that Don Orlov took a wife.”
I feel my chest tighten. Something about the way he says it makes me feel vulnerable. Like there are unseen eyes locked onto me. “What—what word on the street? What does that mean?”
“Look, I just need an hour of your time, baby—”
Hearing him call me “baby” again is too much. I turn away from him and start striding away. It takes all my willpower to stop my hands from trembling.
“Paige!” he calls after me, but I ignore him. I can feel him at my side, trying to overtake me. He manages to jump in front of me right before I reach my table.
“Please,” he begs. “Give me half an hour.”
“I have nothing more to say to you, Anthony. And even if you have something to say to me, I wouldn’t believe a word of it. Crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of and leave me the hell alone.”
“If you would just give me a minute to explain, then I could—”
“I think we’re done here,” Nikita interjects, materializing between us. Her expression is cold and violent, and I marvel again at how much she looks like Misha sometimes. She gives Anthony a once-over, disgust curling her lip. “Paige is clearly not interested in talking to you, and I loathe men who can’t take a hint. Now, get out of my sight before I get really annoyed.”
He gapes at her, his mouth hanging open. I wait for him to argue. For his ever-present temper to spark and turn this into an even bigger scene. Then our security converges around us in a wall of black-suited muscle, and Anthony seems to realize that uttering another word will only work against him.
