Page 189 of Cashmere Cruelty

“We need to talk.”

My stomach plummets. Still, I put on a trembling smile and try to reach out, to comfort him any way I can. “Of course. You can tell me any?—”

“Petra’s pregnant.”

I blink. My voice fizzles out. For a second, I forget to even breathe. “What?”

“Petra’s pregnant,” he repeats, his words as cold as ice. “And I’m going to marry her.”

It feels like a nightmare inside of a nightmare. Like thinking you’ve woken up, only to be plunged right back into the maw of the monster under your bed. For the longest time, it’s all I can do to gape. I replay the words in my mind, and they still don’t make any sense.

“You said you didn’t want her,” I whisper, voice shaking. “You said it was a business arrangement. You said…”

And then it dawns on me: the cold, harsh truth.

“You lied to me.”

Matvey remains silent.

It all makes perfect sense now: why Petra lost her head like that. Why Matvey never outright denied they’d been together. He just let me think that.

And I was stupid enough to believe him.

And now, Petra’s pregnant with his baby.

“Was everything else a lie, too?” I demand, words cracking at the edges. “Yesterday? This morning?” Finally, my voice drops to a devastated whisper. “Werewea lie?”

Matvey’s face is unreadable. Even back when we first met, it was never like this: utterly shuttered. Annoyance, interest, even disgust—I could always find it in glimpses. Tiny things, like the muscles twitching at the corners of his lips.

Now, everything is as still as death.

Somehow, that’s worse.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

The worst part is, I still can’t bring myself to believe it. Things were fine just hours ago. Better yet, they were perfect.

And now, everything’s ruined.

For a long time, Matvey only looks at me. I can sense something moving under the surface of his impassive face. An undercurrent. Is it pain? Rage?

Or is he finally done with me?

“I’m sorry,” he forces out eventually. Two words. All this, and he’s only got two words for me.

Words that no longer mean anything.

Well, I’ve got two of my own.

“Get out.”

When Matvey’s hand twitches towards me, I raise my voice to an inhuman scream. “GET OUT!”

It’s the howl of a wounded animal. Even now, a part of me hopes Matvey won’t listen to what I’m saying. That he’ll hear what I’m feeling. That he’ll crush me in his arms and comfort me, explain himself to me. Tell me it was all a mistake.

Tell me he stillwantsme.

Instead, he turns his back on me.

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