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Something dark and angry flashes across his eyes. He tears his hand out from under mine and I nearly upend my glass of water. The silverware rattles on the table.
“Why would I talk to you about him?” he snarls.
My body burns with emotional whiplash. “I was just trying to—”
“Don’t,” he snaps. “You don’t have to be there for me or comfort me. You don’t have to hold my hand or whisper meaningless platitudes in my ear. Your job is simple: play your part and keep your mouth shut. Do that, and I will give you comfort and protection. Don’t, and—well, that’s actually not an option.”
Hot, angry tears burn my eyes. My hands, clasped in my lap now, tremble miserably.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I hiss between my teeth. “I understand.”
29
MISHA
Neither of us says a word for the rest of the meal. Paige barely touches her food. I watch her push the disgusting pile of yard clippings around her plate until I can’t take it anymore. Then I drive her home.
She makes for our bedroom immediately. Since I’ve maxed out my asshole quota for the night, I choose to go to my office instead.
The moment the door shuts, I let my frustration unfurl. “Fuck!” I punch the wall hard. The drywall cracks and dents beneath my knuckles.
Out of the corner of my eye, a head pops up from the sofa. “Heyo, Big Meesh,” Konstantin quips. “Bad night?”
“Goddammit,” I growl. “Shouldn’t you be balls deep in some unfortunate young woman by this point in the evening?”
He smiles heartily. “If I were balls deep inside her, she would no longer be unfortunate, would she?”
“Not what Katerina Volkov said, if I recall correctly.”
Konstantin’s face drops like a sunk stone. “First of all, I was fourteen. Second of all, Katerina was a stuck-up bitch. Third of all, you’re not going to distract me from your bad mood. Trouble with the wifey?”
The smile is back on his face. One eyebrow is arched mischievously.
“She’s not my wife yet.”
“Ooh. So that’s confirmation? It is indeed Paige causing you woe?”
“I didn’t say that,” I mutter. I drop into the armchair across from him, still nursing my bruised knuckles.
“You didn’t have to. You stink of relationship trouble.” He smiles and shakes his head from side to side like a proud parent. “I never thought I’d see the day. You’ve always been so clinical when it comes to women. It’s good to see you feel something.”
“There’s no relationship trouble,” I grumble. “It’s not about emotions. It’s just an adjustment issue. Paige needs to understand her role in this house and in my life.”
“Well, there’s your problem right there, buckaroo. Nothing turns a woman off more than hearing about all the rules you expect her to live by.”
“Turning her on is not high on my to-do list,” I say. I flex my hand until the knuckles pop and the pain eases. “Now, why are you here?”
He sits up and pulls something out of his pants pocket. “I wanted to hand it over to you personally.”
I stare at the little velvet blue box he’s offering me. It’s small, but I can feel its weight from here. Like it has a gravity all its own.
I’m not quite sure why I feel the need to give Paige the family ring. I just know that the image of it was burning behind my closed eyelids every time I laid down to sleep.
I snatch the box from him and tuck it into my pocket without opening it. I’ve seen the ring in all its glittery perfection before. I don’t need to see it now. I especially don’t need to imagine it on one particularly delicate finger.
“Bro, are you okay?”
