Page 138 of Merciless Queen

“Married,” she cuts me off. “We’re all aware, Zeno included. But do you want him?”

Heat consumes my face at such a temperature, I’d kill to have winter winds blow through the doors, regardless of it being August.

After a full minute passes, Anastasia sits straight again. “You’ve made my point.”

“No,” I rush to reply, rubbing a hand over my mouth as I try to get my shit together, “I was thinking. Zeno held us all at gunpoint and kidnapped me, and now you’re on his side?”

“I also haven’t forgotten that you had him in the exact same position and didn’t shoot either.”

“His sister was there. Not wanting someone dead and wantingthemis very different.”

“Your father did a number on you. Admit it.” Her voice cracks down a few levels, her mouth bending downwards in a small frown as she leans forward.

Her abrupt change of focus momentarily throws me and I have nothing to say.

“Your family sucks, we both know it. They made trusting others hard.”

Why does this sound strangely like the conversation I had with Zeno?

“You’re people. You and your brother.”

Amusement slides from her face. “You know what I mean. Zeno’s asking for trust, but you don’t know how to give it.”

“He lied to me.”My loud emphasis is met with a surprised glance from the bartender, reminding me this conversation isn’t exactly private. “He’s forced me into a marriage I don’t want. What I don’t understand is why it feels like everyone’s pushing me to accept him!”

“Because you’ve been better since you got back from Italy!” She shouts, a redness tainting her cheeks. After a pause, she adds, “Happier. For the first time in years, we’ve been seeing a light in your eyes that isn’t dimmed by your hunt for Boris, your attempts to uphold your father’s standards, or any of the other million things flying through your head at any given time. There’s a spark in you. You two have some weird-ass friendship that somehow works, but a part of you doesn’t know how to open up.”

“I don’thaveto open up because I don’t want a relationship. The Bratva needs me.”

“The Bratva is fine,” she snaps back. “More than fine. Van, you’ve done fucking amazing since your papa’s death, so it’s okay to find happiness.”

Happiness with the one person who lied and tricked me? Who’s already said I’d be a figurehead while he controls both organizations. Yeah, that’s likely.

Anastasia sighs before lifting to her feet and gazing down at me. “Don’t let your father control your life more than he already has.”

The door opens downstairs. Probably more staff arriving and they’ve provided a perfect excuse for this conversation to endand for me to get another drink. By the time I return to the couch, the bartender’s exiting the section.

“Right on time,” Anastasia murmurs, staring at the stairs even after he’s disappeared.

Zeno appears at the top of the stairs, his gaze locked on me as Anastasia continues talking through her betrayal.

“Figure it out, you two. You’re not leaving here ‘til you do.” She all but skips down the steps, ignoring me as I shout her name, lurching from the couch to stop her from leaving. “Either divorce or stay together, but the cat and mouse games need to end.”

“Suka!”

She chortles at thebitchcomment and the door downstairs slams shut. It echoes the very rage that slams through me as I spin around, catching Zeno reaching over the bar for the nearest bottle of alcohol. The clanging the glass makes against the wood ricochets around the club—the empty club. At some point, everyone left.

Fucking Ana.

Zeno strides back with the bottle of liquor and drops into Anastasia’s abandoned seat, taking a large swig as he waits for me to retake my seat. I do, slowly, and with heavy regrets that I never killed him when given the opportunity.

“You don’t understand the wordno.”

“Not when it comes to you.” He grins around the bottle, but then a strange look comes over him, and his amusement is replaced by a shadow. “Truce. Have a drink with me and let’s be civil. We’ve managed to do that before. I quite enjoyed our run around my property.”

“One drink.” With a heavy huff, I reach toward my glass, my hands banding around it. Better it than his neck. “How did you get my Elite on your side?”

“Honestly, not sure. According to the text I got from Anastasia earlier, I think you’re more at fault than I am. She, and I quote, said she’s ‘done seeing you suffer.’”

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