Page 118 of Emerald Malice

He knows I want more information, and he’s withholding. Asshole.

“And here I was, thinking I was special to be invited.” I smirk just to make sure Shura knows I don’t really care.

Natalia invited everyone in my inner circle to the dinner I refused to attend—why should that bother me? I watched from the darkness of my office as they all returned, laughing and joking. I felt like a voyeur—poised on the outskirts of Natalia’s life, observing hungrily but refusing to get any closer. Still, I couldn’t look away.

“Natalia would probably say you were special,” Shura points out. “But then, she’s that way.”

He’s right; she is.

Somehow, Natalia has created a family amidst the rigid control of my Bratva. Yelena seems to have renewed purpose for the first time in years and Shura has been smiling a lot more freely.

But the biggest change in character has come from Misha.

The boy has gained some weight in recent weeks. There’s color on his cheeks and a healthy glow in his skin. Apart from Natalia, Remi has bonded closely with Misha, and I can’t help but suspect that’s because the dog sees Misha as an extension of Natalia herself.

Everyone who gets close to Natalia gains something from the proximity.

Everyone but me.

I frown like I have no idea what he’s talking about. “She’s what way?”

“Kind.”

If I hadn’t seen him ogle Katya a few too many times, I might have suspected him of having feelings for Natalia. As it stands, he just gazes off into the gardens with a bored indifference on his face.

“And Misha behaved?” I ask.

“I misjudged the boy,” Shura answers gruffly. “We all did. He’s alright, really.”

“Did Natalia help you see that, too?”

Shura turns to me slowly, his dark eyes troubled. “She was right. He’s just a child, but we treated him like an enemy. Is it such a surprise that he acted the way he did? It’s what I would have done. Hell, it is what I did.”

His arm moves instinctively to his right leg. I’ve seen the ugly burn mark only a handful of times, but it’s still seared in my memory. That kind of scarring doesn’t happen without some serious pain and trauma behind it.

“I think last night was the first time the kid ever tried birthday cake.”

I process the words belatedly. “Why were you eating birthday cake?”

Shura takes another long sip of coffee. “Because it was Natalia’s birthday.”

Oh, fuck.

I feel my pulse in my temples like a drumbeat announcing just how badly I fucked up. “You didn’t mention that to me.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to. Would it have changed your mind about joining us?”

An old memory plays out in my mind. A flash of red and black streamers. White cake with ridiculous rainbow candles sticking out of the top. A laughing Maria decked out in a shimmering red dress with a high slit.

“Thirty years around the sun!” she exclaimed, cutting into her thick cake. “And here’s to a hundred more!”

She didn’t get a hundred more years, though.

She barely got six months.

“No,” I rasp, pushing away the memory with difficulty. “It wouldn’t have.”

Shura nods as though he had expected nothing less. With a disappointed sigh, he gets to his feet and leaves the kitchen, taking his coffee with him.

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