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“Did you also tell her about Emma being confined to the grounds?”
He nods. “Sonya didn’t understand why the girl couldn’t leave the estate with her.” He pauses. “Are you uncomfortable with your sister knowing how you treat your wife and her family?”
“Careful, Dmitri.”
“Perhaps I went too far.”
In an icy-calm tone, I reply, “Perhaps.”
Vasily treated Eva brutally, and I swore I wouldn’t do the same to Paige, but she’s suffered nonetheless. All without knowing why. I may not have touched Paige in anger, but mentally and emotionally, she has taken many blows.
I didn’t give a shit when she was a means to an end, but now, I care.
Our wedding may have been fake, but she has become a very real wife to me. And I’m unsure just how much more I can put Paige through, especially now that she’s carrying my child.
I’ve tried to be open with Paige, but I know I’m still not saying what has to be said.
I motion toward the bar, and Dmitri joins me as I pour two glasses of Vasily’s oldest scotch. We can talk and clear the air without emotions burying too deep, waiting to reappear as festering wounds.
“Sonya is more perceptive than I give her credit for,” I tell him. “She offered me good advice.”
He lifts his glass to me, and I to him. “What about?” he asks.
“Being in control.”
“Do you intend to take her advice?” He laughs while I grin.
I nod. “Each day, I think I’m closer to finishing what I’ve started. But the end hasn’t come in sight.”
Dmitri looks me in the eye, not scared of the facts. “It will when Gerald Reyes dies.”
“And then his secrets die with him,” I reply, finishing my drink. “You do realize if I hadn’t taken his family in, Igor probably would have.”
He nods. “They’re better off here, even if they don’t realize it. But in the end, may we all benefit from Gerald Reyes’s greed.”
I doubt it. Money will never change Paige, but fear might.
Chapter 20
Paige
The rain taps gently against the ballroom windows, creating a soundtrack to our conversation. Andrei and I have been here for hours, me lounging on one of the new trendy sectionals while he wanders aimlessly, looking out onto the lawn. I’m pleased to have him to myself again, but I wish he’d calm down.
“You know,” I say, half-teasingly, “Crimes mustn’t be committed in bad weather.”
Andrei smiles faintly. “My crime, as you call it, cannot be halted by the weather.”
I grimace a little. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” I know something happened the other day when Sonya sent me a cheerful text apologizing for Andrei’s bad mood before I even knew he was in one.
Andrei tugs a hand through his hair and sits on the couch beside me. I draw my feet up close to my body, as if a badly housebroken panther sits beside me. He looks me in the eye solemnly, and I hold my breath.
“I’ve relinquished some important duties to Dmitri. I’m hoping to be astonished that I don’t have to keep everything and everyone under my thumb. Sonya says I should do that so I can spend more time with you.”
I smile, praising Sonya silently for interfering. “You trust the men and women in your Bratva. You trust Dmitri and Natasha to make the right decisions, right?”
A contemplative expression settles on his face. “There’s a right way and a wrong way. And there’s my way. I like my way the best.”
I wonder if this is the norm for other Bratva wives, telling their husbands not to micromanage their criminal activities. But I refrain from joking about it, certain that Andrei won’t confide in me the next time if I do. I rub his broad back comfortingly, easing the tight muscles beneath his shirt. It’s all I can think to do. Our life experiences have shaped us differently, but maybe I can try to understand his struggles without judging him. I’ll have to if I want to remain his confidante.
