Page 55 of Cashmere Cruelty

And then, just as I’m summoning all of my restraint, she leans up on her tiptoes and whispers, close to my ear, “There’s always time to make one.”

I shake her off.Violently. Then I start walking away before I do something I’ll regret.

Like put a bullet between the eyes of my most important ally.

“Oh, come on! What is it?” Petra calls over to me. “What, got someone else on your mind?”

Warm skin. Soft hands. Lips like?—

“No.”

“Mm. Could’ve fooled me.”

I grab my gun from where I left it. That seems to shock Petra into silence.

“You can go home of your own accord right now,” I start, tossing the weapon back and forth between my hands, “or you can go home in a body bag. Your choice.”

For a moment, Petra’s quiet. Then: “Alright, alright, I get it. God, you really are no fun. I was only joking, you know.”

I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she sashays to the door. For all that Vlad’s keeping her out of higher management for being a woman, she should count herself fucking lucky right now. If a man had spoken to me like that, I would’ve put him six feet under.

“Matvey…” she calls from the doorway.

“What?”

A pause. “You’re still up for this, right?” she asks, tone suddenly uncertain. It’s damn near imperceptible, but it’s there. “Us?”

I take my time to reply. “As long as you hold up your end of the deal,” I growl, the threat clear in my voice, “I’ll hold up mine.”

“Alright then,” Petra says at last. “Don’t forget.”

Then, blessedly, she’sfinallyout the door.

I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed. Petra has a knack for a lot of things, but the worst is getting under my skin. The conversation keeps playing back in my head, certain sentences sticking out like splinters.

There’s nothing between me and April.

Got someone else on your mind?

Mm. Could’ve fooled me.

“Nothing,” I snarl out loud to the empty loft. To myself, willing my own words to fucking sink in. Anything less than that, and this will all become an even worse shitshow than it already is. “There’s nothing.”

By the time my phone buzzes, I almost believe it.

17

MATVEY

Yuri’s text only has four words:Up for round two?

Good. I need to fucking vent.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m back at the warehouse. Gloves on, tools spread out in front of me. Last time, I played nice with the foreigner. This time, I pick a different toy.

“Please,” the Russianmudakgoes as I give him the spa treatment. Specifically, to his right shoulder. “Please, please,stop?—”

Crack.

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