Page 66 of Cruel Promise

“You didn’t eat,” he snaps when I enter the kitchen.

“No, I didn’t. Because I’m a prisoner in this home. Sorry if I didn’t feel like eating right this moment.”

Claude mutters under his breath as he stirs soup in a large pot.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I ask.

He stops stirring. “I never said I hated you.”

“But you act like it.”

“That’s because you’re just so American. You all either eat too much or not at all. It’s ridiculous.”

“Claude, my mother died before my very eyes. My father did it and then sold me to Nikolai, who forced me to marry him. Can you blame me if my appetite isn’t huge right now?”

For just a moment, there’s a softness to his eyes. Then he shakes his head and turns back to the pot. “You need to eat. I will not forgive you if you do not eat my food.”

“Fine. I’ll try a bite of that.” I point at the pot.

“Silly girl, this won’t be ready until later.”

And that’s my cue to leave the kitchen.

I pass by Edmund again, who offers me a kind smile. Since I’m stuck in this house, I might as well get to know everyone better.

“Edmund, how did you start working for Nikolai?”

His smile creates fine lines around his eyes. While it makes him appear nicer, if he were truly nice, he would have helped me escape by now. “I’ve worked with Nikolai for over ten years now, but I’ve worked in this profession for around forty years.”

“Long time.”

“Yes, but I love it. I love helping people into their homes. Making sure they’re comfortable. A welcoming smile. I was made for this profession.”

“So, how did you meet Nikolai?”

“My old employer died, and then Mr. Petrov showed up at his house and told me he wanted me for his butler. It was that simple.”

“Who was your old employer?”

“A man named Sergei Morozova.”

“Russian, too.”

“Yes.”

I look at Edmund closer. “So, you’ve always worked for the Bratva, then?”

“I never said Mr. Morozova worked for the Bratva.”

“You didn’t have to. How else did Nikolai know to find you?”

“Well, that’s true. I have always worked for men in …thatprofession. I didn’t know who Mr. Morozova was when I first met him, but it became apparent the longer I worked for him.”

“But you never said a word. You never quit and tried to find a job with a non-mob boss?”

“Ava,” he says, taking my hand, which is a lot more intimate than Edmund and I have ever been. “When you enter into this world, you don’t get out of it. I’ve never been able to leave it. But instead of fighting it, I gave in and accepted that these are the people I work for. It’s made my life a lot easier. It will be easier for you, too, if you accept Mr. Petrov for who he really is.”

I rip my hand away from him. “I don’t need your advice.”

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