Page 78 of Beautiful Beast

“Isn’t a kid. Yes, she’s young, but she’ll need to learn to grow up fast in this world. The Bratva isn’t kind to women, and she’ll be eighteen soon. It’s just the way it is. Now, let’s not talk about your sister. It only makes you angry and stressed. I’d rather have a fun night tonight. What do you think?” He holds his hand out to me.

My feelings for Erik are complicated. A part of me still hates him for not helping Nadia, yet a part of me is drawn to him. I like it when he holds me. I like it when he touches me.

Maybe I shouldn’t, but it’s too late now to stop.

Erik is my future, I’m beginning to realize. Even if I can help Nadia one day, I’ll still be bound to Erik. She might be able to find freedom, but I won’t.

And being with Erik isn’t all bad. He gives me space a lot. He doesn’t push me—except when he wanted information out of me. He’s not as bad as I thought he’d be.

Can I let myself like him? It would make my life a million times easier if I did. If I just gave in and let myself feel with him. Because the truth is I’m tired of the constant fighting.

I just want to feel safe for once.

Slowly, I take Erik’s hand and let him pull me toward the dance floor in the middle of the room. Other couples are swaying together, looking content in each other’s arms. Maybe that can be Erik and me someday.

If only.

He slides his hand down to my low back and presses our chests together. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You might’ve mentioned it,” I respond in a breathless voice.

“You do look beautiful.” He leans in to my ear. “I could make you mine right here in front of all these people.”

“I don’t think they’d appreciate that.”

“Always witty. That’s one thing I like about you.”

I glance up at him. “Only one thing?”

“You have a chip on your shoulder. It can make it hard to like you.”

“Pot meet kettle.”

He laughs as he draws me in closer. Every part of my body he touches, from my low back to my hand, burns in the best way. “What can I do to make you like me?”

“Do you actually care? Because I thought you didn’t care at what I liked.”

“Touché. I’m starting to realize I wouldn’t mind if you could stand me. If you didn’t always glare at me, even though I do findit amusing. I’m starting to realize … I like you, Anya. More than just as a possession. I’m starting to like you for you.”

My breath gets caught in my throat. No, no, no. Erik can’t be talking like this. If he’s starting to like me, then … what does that mean for me?

“Don’t you want to like me?” he asks.

“I mean, it would be easier to like you than to hate you. But if you really want to know how to get me to like you, you already know the answer. Save Nadia from my father. It’s that simple.”

“Then it seems we’re at an impasse.”

“Aren’t we always?”

His smirk is dangerous, and his eyes are dark behind his mask. It’s like I’m looking into the eyes of a predator.

“Come with me.” He takes me hand and walks us out of the main room to a more secluded hallway. Romantic paintings of the English countryside line the walls.

“What do you think of these paintings?” he asks.

“I think they’re beautiful. What else is there to a painting?”

“There’s a lot more to a painting, Anya.” He keeps his eyes glued to the painting in front of us. Two kids run across an open field, kites blowing behind them. “There’s always something beneath the surface. What do you really see when you look at this?”

---