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One skeptical eyebrow arches high on Niki’s forehead. “You’re sure? How sure? Willing to bet your life on it?”
“A thousand times over.”
“What about your marriage?”
I close my fist, desperate for something to sink my knuckles into. I want to feel the pain radiate through my arm, vibrate in my shoulder, shake every bone and every cell. I want to release all of this pent-up emotion in a wave of brutal violence.
But right now, I only have myself to break.
So instead, I dig my fingernails in my palm until I draw blood. “You don’t even know the whole story and you’re taking her side over mine.”
Nikita shrugs. “It’s not really about sides, is it? I mean, we’re all family now. You saw to that when you married her.” Her voice softens, melts into something almost tender. “She’s pregnant, Misha. With twins.”
“They may not even be mine,” I snarl, despite the fact that I promised myself I wouldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone until I knew the truth with certainty.
“Um—what?”
“I’m getting a paternity test done. I’ll know for sure in a few days.”
Nikita blows out a breath and shakes her head. “Well, until you know for sure, she’s still your wife. And those babies are yours.”
“She’s talented to have hoodwinked all of you so completely.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just because we don’t see things your way doesn’t mean it’s the wrong way to see things, Misha. You may be the don, but you’re not infallible.”
I snort. “Believe me, I know.”
“Do you know that Mom sets your place at the table every single night for dinner? Just in case you decide to drop in unexpectedly. Like you used to do… before.”
I have enough to feel guilty about. I don’t know this trivial shit on top of everything. This isn’t why I came here.
“I’m—”
“Save it, Misha. We’ve heard all the excuses already. How about we try a little honesty for a change?”
I stiffen, but say nothing. Nikita takes that as license to charge ahead.
“Ever since Maksim died, you’ve done your level best to purge yourself of every human emotion and live your life as an island. Which is why, every time you start to feel something for someone, you push them away. That’s what you’re doing to Paige right now.”
I glare at her coldly. “Spent a lot of time psychoanalyzing me, have you, sis? Do you, Mom, and Cyrille sit around and gossip about every fucking thing I’ve done wrong?”
“Well, that would certainly fill up an evening or two,” she snaps back. “But no, actually, we don’t. Because the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“I’ve got a fucking Bratva to run.”
“Yeah? So did Maksim. But he never made the Bratva more important than his family!”
I’m sick of this shit. It’s veering dangerously close to a therapy session, and the last goddamn thing on the planet I want to do right now is unpack my baggage. I get right in her face, reminding her of who is in charge here. “Where. Is. My. Wife?”
“Sleeping,” replies Nikita without a trace of fear in her voice. “And like Mom said, I’m not about to let you disturb her. Go back home, Misha. We’ll take care of her. Especially since you seem to be incapable of doing so yourself.”
I shove past her and over to the dark staircase. I notice movement in the corner of the corridor, and I have a feeling that most of the household is awake. Watching. Judging.
“Paige!” I bellow up the stairs, knowing she’s probably listening. “Enjoy this while it lasts. Because you’re not staying in this house forever. You’ll come back where you belong eventually. And when you do, there will be no more lies.”
Then I gather up my pride and my anger and storm out.
96
