Page 83 of Little Blue

“You had every right to be a brat. He took you.” I snap. “What did he expect?”

Her smile falls just a little. “Have you been a brat, Irelynn?”

I stiffen in my chair. “Maybe a little.”

Her smile grows just a bit, that twinkle in her eyes brightening. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Ilya deserves it. Just a bit, don’t you think?”

I gape. Then I breathe, “I’m so confused right now.”

She laughs, and Abu lifts his head. “I tested Alexei at every turn. I spit vile things at him, threw tantrums I never would have thrown had I known the way others had died at his hands. I taunted him. Through it all, he remained determined to possess me. All of me. I was with him for only six months before he succeeded in stealing my heart. It was with that, I finally handed him my innocence. My first son, Kirill, was born nine months after that. And I was irrevocably, willingly, completely captured by him.”

“And you’re happy?” My heart is a wild thing in my chest. A phoenix burning, flying to break free.

“I am happier than I can possibly explain. The love I have for Alexei grows every day, as does his love for me. I am his Queen. I am the thing he cherishes most, and for me, his hard hands are always, always soft.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I can sense the battle that rages within you. The strings of your heart pull you relentlessly toward Ilya, the fall inevitable. But your mind is telling you it’s wrong and dirty, shameful to feel the things you do. But it’s not.”

“He stole me.” My voice rattles. So does the coffee between my hands.

“Volkov men have a talent. Or perhaps it’s a curse. They love one woman, fiercely. They fall for her at first sight, and they fall completely. They will do whatever it takes, anything, to possess her.” She watches me steadily. “And the women always, always fall.”

“What if I don’t?”

“He will chase you until the day he dies, Irelynn. For both your sakes, I pray you reject the wrongs of society and instead, listen to the rights inside your heart. I pray you find it within yourself to forgive him, so that you can move forward and accept the undying love that a bad man who will only ever be good for you, has.”

Thirty-Four

Irelynn

Tara leaves after lunch. She’d joined me to visit the dogs she’d named, Abu tagging along, courageously braving the big dogs with big teeth that could make him dinner in about five seconds. To my surprise, every one of Ilya’s dogs was careful with Abu, even in play. It made me wonder if they could be good with Lucy, as well. Not that I had any desire to test a relationship between my indoor kitty and the massive outdoor pups.

Now, I sit around a full table, enjoying Polina’s version of shepherd’s pie. On the counter, two apple pies steam, fresh out of the oven.

Conversation is mostly in English, for my benefit, I suspect. But every now and again a Russian word is thrown in. Polina has a glass of red wine in front of her, and she’s poured me a glass, too. With Ilya watching me intently, I’d taken a sip to discover that although it is dry, I don’t hate it.

As a matter of fact, I don’t hate any of this. Especially not sitting around a full table that is bursting with conversation, food, and people that really seem to want to be there. As unconventional as this is, I realize, to my surprise, it’s a family.

Ilya’s family—and if he gets his way, it’ll be my family, too.

The thought has a shiver pulsing through my body, and I tug my sleeves down over my hands. The stress on the worn threads has a tear sounding loud, silencing all conversation as multiple sets of eyes snap to the sleeve of my shirt where a hole in the cuff now yawns.

I feel my face heat as I shrug off sharp gazes. The glaring reminder of where I came from, and just how much I don’t belong here with a man as wealthy as Ilya, burns hot red into my cheeks. I shrug, “It’s comfy.”

Polina tsks. “Ilya, you need to take the girl shopping.”

My eyes pop wide as I look in horror at Polina. I’ve yet to hear anyone tell Ilya to do anything, and for a moment, I fear for her life.

I’m so on edge, when Ilya’s hand moves to cover mine, I nearly jump out of my skin. When my eyes snap to his, I see that his are filled with a darkness that has my soul quivering deep inside me. He knows where my thoughts went.

But can he blame me? I’ve just learned he’s the head of the Russian Mafia. I mean?—

I laugh. It’s an unhinged sound that has Misha’s grin stretching too wide. The man, I’m finding, takes great pleasure in watching uncomfortable situations befall undeserving people. For his part, Luka covers a choked cough that could have begun as a laugh. Daniil looks as displeased as Polina on my behalf, and Boris—well, Boris looks contemplative. Then he wipes the look off his face as he shovels another bite of the meaty pie into his mouth.

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