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It was my job to take care of her, just like she took care of me all those years. And I watched her walk into the lion’s den and did nothing.
His eyes are trained on me, waiting for a reaction.
Instead of giving him one, I turn and walk away.
8
MISHA
Through my office window, I see Cyrille and Niki walking towards the greenhouse. I haven’t spotted Paige yet. I know she’s with them, and that ought to be enough to reassure me. But I can’t seem to turn away without first catching a glimpse of her.
“Misha?” Konstantin asks.
I’m about to respond when I spot her.
Her dark hair spills over the delicate arch of her spine. She’s wearing a white, strapless dress that fits tight around her chest and flows over the rest of her body. She’s also wearing a sun hat and carrying something under her arm.
She places a hand on her hat and turns her face up abruptly as though she can sense me staring. But then I realize she’s not looking at me at all.
Ilya hops up to her, bouncing with the endless energy of youth. They link hands and follow Niki and Cyrille to the greenhouse. There’s such an ease about their relationship. It makes a spot in my chest tighten uncomfortably.
Ilya is nine. He stopped wanting to hold anyone’s hand years ago. And yet here he comes, racing up to her and twining his fingers through hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he’s always done it.
Like she’s always been here.
I wait until Paige and Ilya disappear into the greenhouse before I turn back to Konstantin. He is staring at me with a mixture of amusement and frustration.
“What?” I snap.
“What?” His voice is mocking. “You know damn wellwhat. Brother, you need to talk to her.”
“I already have. I said everything I needed to.”
And then some.
I can still see the way she paled when I lobbed those vile words at her. I knew she felt guilty about Clara, and I used it against her anyway.
It worked exactly as I intended.
Violently.
Still, I haven’t taken it back. Because taking it back would require being in the same space with her, and I can’t bring myself to do that. I just fucking can’t. Being around her is too hard right now.
“The two of you care about each other,” Konstantin insists. “You—”
“She’s better off not caring about me at all,” I growl. “It’s a waste of fucking time.”
My cousin raises his eyebrows. “Are you saying I’m wasting my time? Because, shocker of shockers, I care about you, too.”
“If the shoe fits.”
“You’re not usually the type to throw your own pity party,” Konstantin observes. “What happened?”
“Maksim happened. And then Paige happened. It’s not a pity party; it’s reality.”
“It’s the realityyou’recreating. The rest of us—”
“We don’t have time for this,” I interrupt. “We need to figure out a plan of action going forward and I think I’ve landed on a solution.”
