Page 80 of Vitaly

I want to smile back, but too much unease has been swimming in my gut all day. “The only way you would’ve told me no is if you were still holding out for Nikita.”

Her face falls. “Vitaly…”

“I would’ve understood,” I lie. “You’ve been with him for a long time.”

“He’s been stringing me along for a long time,” she deadpans. “That isn’t the same thing as being with somebody.” She swallows as her eyes lower for just a moment. “I didn’t know that … until recently.”

My lips twitch as I take her jaw and slowly press my lips to hers, sighing as she unwinds all the stress she caused by leaving last night with one kiss.

The fight with Alik…

The disappointment from knowing he didn’t send the photo…

It all melts away against Mila’s lips. They’re an anchor that steadies me. A calm within a storm.

If I was to lead, I’d need these lips every day.

When Mila pulls away, I keep my eyes closed a moment, holding the back of her neck.

“Do you trust me?” she whispers, her soft hand against my cheek.

I nod.

“I trust you too… But I would trust you more if you were open with me.”

My face pinches, but I don’t pull away. “Aren’t I?”

She lowers her eyes and lets out a long breath against my lips. “Before I ask you to become Pakhan, I need to know what made you who you are.” She lifts her eyes to me. “I need to understand the decisions you make, like coming here. That’s the only way I’ll be able to follow you blindly.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand what you want to know.”

But it’s a lie. I do understand.

She wants to know the things I’m ashamed to admit. To know the things she’ll hate me for. To know the things I want so desperately to lie to her about.

She wants to know why I do what I do, and the answer is simple. I’m trying to be the opposite of everything inside of me.

“I’ve heard the stories, but… What happened that day when you stole the Armenians’ money? They captured you, Alik, Roman’s little brother, and two other guys, right? And they tortured you all? I know that when your father went to rescue you, he wound up killed in the crossfire… I know people blame you, but, Vitaly, your fatherchoseto do it, and frankly, so did Alik and the others. You didn’t literally force them, right?”

“They were my responsibility,” I say with perhaps a bit too much heat.

She frowns and shakes her head. “Not your father.”

I recoil at the statement. She thinks she’s on my side, but she might as well be spitting on the man’s grave. “Don’t talk about my father.”

“You need to hear this… You hate yourself because you believe you’re responsible for his death, but youaren’t. You were a kid who made a mistake, and if anyone is to blame for your father’s death, it’s your grandfather. I remember, your grandfather forbade anyone from going to get you. If he hadn’t, there would’ve been far more men for backup.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She rears back. “What? Vitaly, of course it?—”

“Backup or not, my father was a smart man. If it wasn’t for me, he would have made it out alive.”

She tilts her head as she tries to make sense of that. She can’t. No one can. I’m the only person who knows what really happened that day. What really caused the great Vlad Petrov’s death.

My chest aches at the memory. My eyes burn.

Mila is right only about one thing. I hate myself. And the thing perhaps I hate most about myself is that if I had to go back to that day, to that hour, as I’ve relived it thousands of times, I would do it the exact same way. My father would still die the noble, strong, wise man that he was, and he would leave me, the weak, spoiled, arrogant son that I am.

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