Page 85 of Crown of Hate

“Why didn’t you tell her you love her?” Ilya asks. “And don’t even try to bullshit me about not loving her back,” he adds before I can open my mouth.

“What if something happens to me during this war with Akim? She wouldn’t survive if she knew how I truly feel about her.”

“No, you idiot. You have to tell her for that very reason. If something happens to you, she deserves to know how you feel. To know she wasn’t just some pawn you used.”

I rub my forehead. He’s right, damn him. But the thought of saying those words, words I never thought I’d say to anyone… it’s terrifying. It’s complicated, messy, and I’m not sure I’m ready to explore that emotional abyss just yet.

She deserves to know,Ilya’s words echo through my mind.

I finish my drink and grab my suit jacket draped on the backrest. “I’m going home.” I look at Alexei. “You coming?”

“Sorry, man. But I’ve got some tension to work off, if you catch my drift. It’s been way too fucking long.”

I wince. “Gross, asshole.”

His laughter follows me as I walk out through the VIP door and leave the club. The drive home is a blur, and I find myselfsitting in the driveway for a good half hour, wrestling with my thoughts.

I have two choices: go inside and bare my soul to my wife or keep playing the emotionless idiot. Alya has awakened a part of me I never knew existed. She cares for me, loves me, even when I’ve been nothing but an asshole. I don’t deserve her—that much I know for sure. Still, I can’t—won’t—let her go, because at the end of the day, I’m a selfish, possessive bastard.

And maybe, just maybe, I’m also a man in love.

With a deep breath, I turn off the engine and head inside. The manor is unnervingly quiet. Usually, I come back home to the sound of Alya chatting with the maids and staying up to wait for me—not tonight.

I take the stairs two at a time, my heart in my throat as I approach our bedroom. To my surprise, Alya’s not asleep. She’s sitting on the bed, back against the headboard, focused on a book in her hands. A thin-laced nightgown is wrapped loosely around her body. I swallow at the sight of her. Fucking gorgeous as always.

But she doesn’t even look up as I gently shut the door behind me.

“Hey,” I gently prod. Fuck. Nothing makes me as anxious as this tiny woman. She really does have me wrapped around her finger. “I’ve been a bastard.”

She swallows, keeping her eyes fixed on her book. “That’s nothing new.”

I take a step closer to her. “Look?—”

Before I can start, she scrunches her nose and takes a big exaggerated sniff.

“You stink.”

“Excuse me?”

Finally, her gaze rips off the page and onto me. There isn’t as much rage there as I expected. Mostly, she just looks disappointed. Sad.

My heart balls into a fist. If anyone else made her look this sad, I’d kill them. But what do I do when I’m the one who broke her like this?

“I said you smell… like booze…”

“I may have had a few drinks down at the bar.”

She lifts her eyebrow. “A few?”

“You’re mad at me,” I say, lifting my arm to take a discreet sniff of myself. She’s right.

“I’m not mad…”

“Well, you’re not happy, and I can’t have that. But you’re right, I stink. I’ll take a shower, then we can talk.”

“About what?”

“You know.”

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