Page 86 of Inked Adonis

“With all due respect, Ms. Alekseeva, I don’t think that’s any of your business.” I hold my chin high even while my heart is flailing around in my chest.

I wait for the same kind of attack she waged on Hope, but all I get is another seemingly sweet smile. “Listen, Nina, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m here because I’m concerned.”

“About what?” I ask. Because she can’t be concerned about me.

She continues without answering my question. “I’ve known Sam since he was a boy. We practically grew up together. I probably know more about him than anyone else on earth.”

I want to be petty and point out that she doesn’t know what he was doing with me in bed last night, but I take a breath and rise above it.

Mostly because the sun glinting off her diamond rings reminds me that I would not look cute with stitches on my face.

“Take it from someone who knows: the Litvinovs are trouble,” she says. “They’re all damaged—Samuil most of all. We were together for over ten years, so I know all about it.”

Ten years?!

I was content to imagine Katerina as some kind of drunken-night in Las Vegas mistake. Elvis married them, they had fun for a week, and then they sobered up and filed for divorce. But if Sam’s marriage to Kat was a child, it would be in the fourth grade. It would be learning division!

I ignore the twisting in my gut and the way her icy-blue glare makes me shiver. “Sam is just fine.”

Suddenly, Katerina grabs my elbow, bringing me to a grinding halt in front of Lake Shore Drive. Finally, she’s dropped the smile. Thank God—it was starting to terrify me more than her usual sneer. “Put aside your girlish infatuation and open your eyes, Nova. I know you’re having the best sex of your life right now, but don’t let explosive orgasms turn you into a fool.”

My jaw drops. Even if my mouth was working properly, I don’t know what I’d say to that.

“Samuil Litvinov may seem steady and dependable, but just you wait. The second things get serious, he turns into the same broken little boy he’s always been. Under it all, he’s still the runt whose junkie mother abandoned him as a toddler.”

Jaw drops further.

Speechlessness doubles.

Katerina smirks triumphantly. “Oh, dear. He hasn’t told you about that, has he? How his mother traded him in for drug money and was never seen or heard from again? Pity. I bet you thought you two were getting so close.”

A part of me feels like I need to stick my fingers in my ears and sing at the top of my lungs. This is not information I should be getting from Samuil’s vindictive ex-wife.

Then there’s another greedy part of me that wants to know everything about Sam, no matter where the information comes from.

Katerina continues her casually vicious onslaught. “His mother broke him, and as a result, Sam has never trusted women. It’s why our marriage didn’t survive. He became possessive, controlling, cruel. It’s just a matter of time before you see that side of him. I hope it hurts you less than it did me. Those bruises lastedages.”

She was married to him for ten years. How many sides of Samuil has she seen? How much better does she know him?Did he really hurt her?

Doubts swirl in my head, but I try to shut them all out.

I clench my teeth. “Why should I believe anything you tell me?”

“Because it’s true, whether you want to believe it or not. The cycle of violence will continue and you’ll be a part of it. I just thought you should know—woman to woman. Consider yourself warned.”

Rufus has ventured out from between my legs, sniffing at Katerina like he’s double-checking she’s just as awful as he remembers. She reaches out for another pet, but his ears flatten. The growl that comes out of him is menacing.

I trust Rufus’s judgment a hell of a lot more than I trust Katerina.

She yanks her hand back with a sneer. Then she reaches into her pocket and returns with a sleek black phone. She hands it to me. “Take this.”

“What is it?”

“Your emergency line,” she explains. “You may turn your nose up at it now, but there will come a day in the near future when Samuil will show you who he truly is. You’ll be too scared to go to the police, so consider this yourget-out-of-jail-freecard.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “But if you want my advice, you should get out while you still can.”

Before I can lob the phone back at her, she turns and stalks away.

“What do I do now?” I stare down at the dogs, who are looking at me like I should have all the answers.

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