Page 58 of Twisted Vows

The thought cuts sharper than I expect. My life will mean nothing if the Bratva and Cosa Nostra go to war.

I thought I was starting to understand him. But now I wonder if that’s possible.

I glance toward the window, the glass reflecting the faint outline of my face. The trees sway as the wind picks up outside. After I move to the window, my fingers brush against the cool glass, my gaze drifting over the shadows forming in the darkening gardens.

They feel ominous, and my instincts are telling me there are few I can trust.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Fire in my blood.

Maxsim

The sound of Ari’s silence still lingers, louder than it has any right to be.

She didn’t confront me last night—not directly—but the tension in her eyes said enough. She’s too smart to ignore what she overheard, too proud to ask for answers outright.

And now, here I am, staring at reports that don’t add up, trying to pretend her absence doesn’t gnaw at me more than it should

The office is eerily quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the heater and the faint creak of the leather chair beneath me.

I set my coffee mug down harder than I intend, the sound breaking the stillness.I shouldn’t care this much.

The door swings open without warning, slamming against the wall. I don’t need to look up to know who it is. Only one person in this house would dare.

Ari stands in the doorway, her green eyes blazing.Much better. This, I can handle.

Her hair is slightly messy, falling in loose waves around her face. She’s dressed casually—fitted jeans and an oversized sweater—but there’s nothing casual about her posture. Arms crossed, chin tilted, she’s a storm brewing in my sterile office.

We need to talk.” Her voice is sharp enough to slice through the silence.

I glance up, unfazed. “Finally. The silent treatment was getting tedious.”

Her lips twitch, but it’s not a smile—it’s the warning before a storm. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’ve been trying to decide whether or not to trust you.”

I lean back, keeping my voice calm. “And what’s the verdict?”

Her green eyes blaze. “I don’t know, Maxsim. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my brother’s name came up in your little pow-wow last night.”

My jaw tightens, but I keep my face impassive. “Eavesdropping is a dangerous habit to pick up.”

Her lips curve into something that’s not quite a smile. “So is lying to your wife.”

I stand, moving to the sideboard where the coffee pot sits, and pour myself another cup. My movements are deliberate, calculated—a mask of calm. “This is Bratva business,” I say, keeping my tone even. “It doesn’t concern you.”

Her scoff is sharp, a dagger aimed directly at my composure. “Doesn’t concern me? My brother’s name came up.”

Her accusation hangs in the air, and for a moment, I consider lying outright something neat and simple. But the weight of her gaze keeps me from it.

I set my coffee mug down, the porcelain clicking against the desk. “It’s Bratva business,” I say, keeping my tone even. Neutral. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Don’t patronize me.” She steps closer, her eyes blazing. “If my family is involved, it’s my business. Or are you too arrogant to see that?”

I meet her glare head-on, but the truth catches in my throat. It’s not arrogance—it’s doubt. Doubt about who’s pulling strings behind the scenes. Doubt about who’s loyal and who’s just waiting to stick a knife in my back. “I can’t give you answers Idon’t have yet,” I admit, my voice lowering. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because the wrong move could set everything on fire.”

Her eyes flicker with something—surprise, maybe. Uncertainty. She studies me for a long moment, searching my face for cracks, but I give her nothing.

“You’re dancing around the truth,” she says finally, her tone softer but no less biting. “Are you even sure you can trust your own men?”

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