Page 57 of Beautiful Beast

“I’m sure you are.” He holds out a strawberry next, and I take a bite out of it. “Eaten a lot of fruit in this way before?”

“I have men feed me every day. In fact, they walk me around in a palanquin.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m impressed.”

“That I know that word?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Do you think I’m uncultured and stupid?”

“I never said that.” He holds another strawberry to my mouth. I slowly take a bite out of it this time. His eyes darken, and a weight settles in my stomach. It’s not an unpleasant feeling.

“Then what did you mean? What do you really think of me, Erik?”

“I think you’re a young woman with a lot of fire inside you. I just wasn’t sure how much you read. How much you knew certain words.”

“I know a lot more than you give me credit for.”

There’s a glint to his eye. “And I like that fact. I like discovering new things about you. It only fascinates me more.” His thumb slides across my lip, wiping away the last remaining fruit juices.

“Then you should know I read a lot as a child. Well, my mom read a lot to me.” The mood in the room instantly shifts. Once a moment of desire is now a moment of vulnerability.

“I never met her. Your mom.”

“She’s been dead for years.”

“How?”

I narrow my eyes. “How did she die? Why do you want to know? Want to use it against me somehow?”

“I just want to know, Anya,” he says in a surprisingly soft voice.

“She died from breast cancer when I was ten. Nadia was only seven at the time. She barely got to know our mom.”

Erik goes silent for a moment as he stares at the table. “And she read to you?”

“All the time. It was our favorite thing to do together.”

“Losing her must have been tough.”

“It was,” I say, surprised I’m even having this conversation with Erik. “I’ve never asked about your parents. They weren’t at the wedding.”

He meets my gaze again, and this time, any softness is gone. “They’re both dead.”

“How?”

“Murdered. Shot down in cold blood. That’s what happens when you’re in the Bratva.”

“Will that happen to you?”

“Hoping it will?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Don’t worry, Anya. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m not going to die anytime soon.”

“And me? Am I at risk?”

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