Page 62 of Vitaly

“That’s noble,” I whisper, meaning it. “But I’m never going to leave the Bratva.” My eyes lower to his chest, and I tell myself it isn’t out of shame, but still, my ears heat. “I know you don’t understand it, but?—”

“I understand.” He takes my cheek and caresses it until I look at him, my heart beating quickly.

“This is your home,” he says, matter-of-factly. As if he hasn’t questioned my sanity every day. “Where else would you go?”

Alekseevs don’t run away.

They don’t justleave. They don’t desert.

He understands? Truly?

He runs the pad of his thumb along my lower lip. “I think this is my home too.”

“No,” I say immediately. “Nikita is just waiting?—”

“I know.” Vitaly nods. “But I’m not going to leave you here. If he’s going to try to kill me, I hope he does his best. I won’t lay down.”

I take a step away from Vitaly, a shudder running over my shoulders. “I’m not on your side.”

There’s fear in my voice, but I don’t know what exactly I’m afraid of. I don’t want him to misunderstand me.

“You’re right about me,” I say, trying to lighten my tone, as if this is funny. “I’m loyal to a fault.”

He smiles a small, kind smile. “I know.”

With a tip of his head, he gestures to his Jeep parked a little way down the street. “Come on. I want to take you somewhere.”

He starts toward his Jeep then stops to hold his hand out for me.

“Where?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

I snort. “No.”

He lets out a soft chuckle before stretching his arm farther toward me. “Fair enough, but come with me anyway.”

Biting my lip, I look around, searching for Alik in the shadows. It feels like a bad idea to leave with Vitaly. It could give Alik the wrong idea.

Then again, manipulating Vitaly is what I’msupposedto be doing. Even if it’s the last thing I want to be doing.

Turning back to him, I take his warm hand, feeling a shiver run up my spine at the touch.

I tell myself it’s nerves. Maybe even a recoil. After all, this is my enemy.

But I know it’s a lie.

17

VITALY

Ican smell her perfume.

It hasn’t affected me before, but now, as I drive down the last gravel road to our destination, I find myself leaned ever so slightly toward Mila to chase the scent. It smells expensive, and for some reason, I want to ask if Nikita bought it for her. For some reason I care.

“Vitaly.” My name leaves her lips in an exasperated huff. She doesn’t bother asking where we’re going again.

“Almost there.”

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