Page 48 of Crown of Hate

“I made pasta,” Grace offers.

“That’s perfect for post-swim lunch,” Kira declares. Then she reaches for my hand and practically drags me along with her upstairs. “Have you tried swimming with Mikhail? It’s a good way to bond.”

My knees protest as we race up the stairs. And I’m panting like I’ve run a marathon. How is this girl so fit? Maybe hours of chasing down news stories have given her superhuman stamina.

“Why would I want to bond with your brother?” I wheeze, though the idea of Mikhail in swim trunks sends a thrill through me.

“Because he’s your husband, and you don’t seem in a rush to divorce him.” She levels a knowing look at me when we reach the top of the stairs. “Women don’t typically stick around when forced into marriage if they have other options.”

“There aren’t any other options.”

“I offered you a chance to leave, and you turned it down.” Her voice drops to an almost whisper. “That tells me everything I need to know.”

I cock my brow. I’m offended because I know she’s right. I’m furious because I know she shouldn’t be right. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She smirks. “You’re going to fall in love with Mikhail, Alya. Hell, I believe you’re falling for him already.”

And she’s fucking right.

15

MIKHAIL

I’ve been distracted all fucking day, and nothing is cutting through the chaos—not even fantasizing about drowning Boris and Akim in their own blood is doing it for me.

There’s a bounty on my head. The Italian mafia has made a deal with the Russian Bratva to hunt me as if I’m a fucking pig to slaughter. Yet all I can think about is my wife.

Alya…

Christ.

Despite the shitstorm brewing around me, I was able to sleep like a baby last night thanks to her. She’s a welcome distraction from the clusterfuck I’m currently in. But there’s another worry gnawing at my gut—she’s my wife now, and that puts a target on her back too.

I want to believe Akim wouldn’t hurt her, but that’s wishful thinking. That bastard is more beast than man. Relationships don’t mean shit to him. He’d slit his own mother’s throat if it got him what he wanted.

Not that I’m any better. I dragged Alya into this mess. And soon, I’m going to hurt her even more when I drop thebombshell that will help me immobilize Akim before I strike. But I’m the only one who can protect her now.

My chest tightens at the mere thought of her getting hurt. My sweet little wife who wouldn’t hurt a fly—she deserves better than this. Better than me. But there’s no one who can protect her from me, and a dark part of me likes it that way.

A knock on the door yanks me from my brooding.

Before I can even bark the order, the door swings open, and Semyon and Alexei saunter in. Arrogant bastards.

“You okay?” Alexei asks, sprawling into the chair across from mine. Then props his feet on my desk, and I fight the urge to break his ankles.

Semyon takes the mesh chair next to him, his face its usual mask of grumpy indifference I swear, the man could give a kid nightmares.

“Were you in the middle of something before we walked in?” Alexei asks, narrowing his eyes. “Your cheeks are so red I’d swear you were jerking off.”

“I’m not a horny mutt like you, Alexei,” I drawl. His joke hits too close to home. I wasn’t jerking off, but I was mentally cataloging all the ways I would fuck my wife when I get home tonight.

My cock twitches in agreement.

He taps his jaw. “Could’ve fooled me. Feels like yesterday we were clubbing and fucking different whores every night back in Russia.”

My brows knit. “Does it? Feels like a lifetime ago to me. And I’m a married man now, asshole.”

“Ah, right.” He shakes his head, sighing. “Lovely. Alya. You don’t deserve that girl, man. You’re better off fucking whores like you used to.”

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