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“I’ve got it all under control.”
She turns to the punching bag, which is still swinging from my vigorous workout. “Why didn’t you tell me about Petyr and Maksim?” she asks as she runs a finger down the old, cracked leather. “They were friends. Close friends, based on what Nikita told me.”
“Great. So she’s started shooting her mouth off, too?” I hiss. “As if I don’t have enough rats to worry about.”
She stiffens immediately. “I’ll go. You’re clearly not in the mood to talk.”
“From now on, you only leave this house with me or Konstantin accompanying you,” I call after her as she’s leaving.
She’s right. I’m not in the mood to talk. So why can’t I seem to stop? I’m baiting her for no fucking reason.
Because you’d rather her be with you,says a nasty voice in my head.Because you can’t bear to see her go. Because every time she does, she takes a little part of you with her.
Paige turns at the threshold of the door and fixes me with a fierce glare. “I’d prefer Konstantin.”
“We don’t always get what we want.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she snaps. She’s about to leave again when something stops her. She twists around and takes a step back into the room. “Why do you have to be this way? I came to find you because I wanted to tell you something.”
Venomous words pour out of my mouth before I can pen them in. “If it’s about your lunch with my sister, save it. I don’t need to know every detail of your day or what fucking salad you had to eat. Just like you don’t need to know every detail of mine. We don’t have to pretend to care about each other. Not when no one else is looking.”
The disappointment pools in her eyes. Guilt overtakes the adrenaline thrumming through me.
“Excuse me. I’ll leave you to yourotherpunching bag.”
Then she slams the door on her way out.
67
MISHA
I’ve spent the last two nights in my office, sleeping on the fold-out couch to avoid my wife.
Not that it helps much. Big as this fucking house is, I run into her regularly. When I do, she avoids my gaze and walks the other way.
We drive to work separately, Konstantin escorting her each morning and evening. Even in the building, we stick to our own departments.
Considering this new arrangement was my doing, I’m not enjoying it much.
It’s only nine in the morning, but I find myself glancing towards the bar cart in the corner of my office. I’m craving something strong enough to help me forget the hurt in Paige’s eyes the last time I crossed paths with her in the gym.
“Are you still sleeping?” a familiar voice asks.
I curse silently as Nikita walks into my office and eyes my pull-out couch with unabashed judgment. She closes the door and joins me on it without an invitation.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“I hate the armchairs you put in here. They’re uncomfortable,” she explains when I glare at her, plucking my blanket off of me and arranging it across her bare legs.
Groaning, I lie back against my pillow. “I meant, what are you doing in my house?”
“Wedding planning, of course. Mom is with Paige in the garden. They’re going over table settings and the menu.”
“That still doesn’t explain whatyou’redoing here. I’m sure you have a million things you’d rather be doing than planning a wedding you don’t support.”
She snorts. “Mom made me come.”
“Since when do you do what she tells you to?”
