Page 55 of Crown of Hate

“What exactly do you want to know?” His voice is suddenly cold, a stark contrast to the man that fucked me against the bathroom wall just minutes ago.

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “Whatever you can share.”

“Akim had the Italian mafia attack one of our warehouses. I took my revenge on them this evening.”

That explains the blood. A part of me wonders if he feels any sort of remorse for the people he kills. I don’t want to believe he’s a heartless monster, incapable of feeling anything beyond rage and cruelty.

He folds his arms and pins me with an unreadable gaze. “Is there something you want to ask me?”

I decide to be direct. If there’s a chance I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this man, it’s better I learn all I can about him. “Do you ever feel sad for the people you kill? Do you regret what you do?”

His jaw tightens, but his eyes remain unreadable. “In the chaos of the underworld, there’s no room for emotions like sadness and regret. It’s either kill or be killed.”

“So you enjoy it?”

“Do you enjoy standing here waiting for the microwave?” he counters.

I do, but only because he’s here with me. I would hate it otherwise. “No, I don’t.”

“Then why are you here? You could’ve chosen not to,” he says calmly.

“Because we’re hungry. Whether I want to or not, I have to wait if I want to eat.” Then I grin, trying to lighten the mood. “You could’ve been a gentleman and offered to do it alone instead.”

“You like being served in bed? Point taken. But that’s beside my point.” He leans back against the wall. “You don’t always do things because you like them. You do them out of necessity, It’s the same for me. While I wouldn’t go out of my way to hurt others, I have to defend myself.”

My lips part. There’s this aching need to ask him if he enjoyed killing my father, but the mood between us is so good, I don’t want to ruin it. I’ll ask another day. “I’m going to the shelter tomorrow,” I say instead.

“And you’re taking your bodyguards with you?”

“Can I not take them?”

“No,” he says firmly, inching closer. He smells like citrus and cinnamon—harsh yet addictive. “While I won’t keep you inside against your will, the last thing I want is you dying on me, do you understand?”

“Because you’ll miss fucking me.”

“Because I’ll fucking rip the world to shreds if anything ever happens to you, malyshka.”

The tension in the air is palpable.

My heart races, my pulse rate skyrocketing. Butterflies come awake in my stomach, and their flutters make me want to pull this man into a searing kiss.

He’ll never love me, I know. But how can I resist him when he says hot shit like that. What girl wouldn’t want a man willing to tear the world apart for her? Definitely not me.

The microwave’s shrill bleep snaps me out of my daze.

I take out the pizza, grateful for the distraction. “Can you take this to the island? I’ll grab the Greek yoghurt and join you.”

He takes the pizza, and I follow with the yoghurt, a bowl, and two spoons.

As he picks up a slice of pizza, his attention stays fixed on the yoghurt I’m scooping into the bowl. “How does that taste?”

I’m surprised he’s never had Greek yoghurt before. I assumed everyone had tried it at least once. “It’s really good. Like regular yoghurt but even better.” I cover what is left in the container and push it aside. “Want some?”

“If you don’t mind sharing,” he says with a hint of uncertainty.

I can’t help but chuckle. “I wouldn’t have brought two spoons if I minded.” I hold one out to him, and he takes it.

Mikhail takes a scoop out of the bowl and groans in approval. “This is good.”

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