Page 61 of Beautiful Cruelty

I won't let myself catch feelings for him, no matter how much my traitorous body responds to his presence and touch.

The sound of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn around.

Vadim walks towards me, and my breath catches. His bespoke suit fits him like a second skin, the dark fabric emphasizing his broad shoulders. A blue silk tie draws my attention to his throat, and he moves with purpose—like a wolf pacing the edges of his territory.

When his eyes meet mine, I feel a shiver rush down my spine as if I touched a live wire.

There's something different in his gaze this morning. Maybe it's because of last night. They seem just a little less playful, and a little more serious.

We've both caught a glimpse of what's beneath each other's masks, and there's no coming back from that.

"That's quite the alteration you've made to the dress." Vadim's voice slides over me like warm honey as he approaches.

Heat rushes along my cheeks. It felt so right to make the bold and provocative changes yesterday.

But now, they feel almost inappropriate.

"I had time on my hands." I try for my usual sass but my voice comes out softer than intended.

"It looks good." His eyes travel down my body, making my skin tingle. "Let's go."

A tall man with dirty-blond hair and light green eyes waits by a black Mercedes. His easy smile carries both warmth and danger as he holds the back door open.

"No Ferrari today?" I ask, trying to ignore how Vadim's hand hovers near my lower back as I maneuver toward the car with my crutches.

"The Ferrari's not practical with your injury." Vadim guides me into the backseat. "And with how short you've made that dress, I'd rather not give half of Seattle a free show while you try to climb in and out of my car."

My heart does a little flip at his consideration as I step into the car. How thoughtful of him to think about my comfort and modesty.

No. Stop it. This is exactly what I shouldn't be doing—reading kindness into his actions. First that reckless moment last night, and now this warmth spreading through my chest? If I'm trying to keep emotional distance from Vadim Stravinsky, I'm doing a terrible job of it.

He joins me on the other side, and closes the door. The car immediately starts moving.

"So," I start. "Jewelry shopping."

My mind drifts to Mom's diamond necklace, the one passed down from her grandmother, with its delicate chain and diamonds. The same one Freddy pawned off—probably for pennies on the dollar—to cover his gambling debts.

My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms hard enough to leave crescent marks. That necklace belonged in the family. It was meant to be passed down through generations, not sold off for a fraction of its worth.

It should have stayed with Dad, a precious physical reminder of Mom he could hold on to even as his own memories slip away,not disappeared into whatever dark hole Freddy's addiction created.

Even now, months later, the betrayal burns fresh, like salt in an open wound.

"Nervous?" Vadim's voice cuts through my anger.

I force my fingers to relax, finding my footing in our usual dance of words. "Why wouldn't I be? Last time I went shopping for a ring, I needed a stranger’s help to get it off."

"But you still got it off." His eyes flick to my hand. "Maybe this ring will also be more committed than your fiancé."

"In that case, I should pick something understated." I trace my finger along the leather seat. "Something that won't draw the attention of a stranger looking to help me get it off."

"A pakhan's wife with an understated ring?" Vadim's low chuckle sends warmth coursing through me. "That would draw more attention than any diamond."

"What are you saying?" I turn to him. "Subtlety isn't an option?"

"The ring must match expectations." His knee brushes against mine as the car turns.

I shift away from his touch, trying to ignore how my skin tingles where we connected. "And what exactly are those expectations?"

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