Page 40 of Ruthless Bonds

“Lovely.” He circled around me, turning my head to the side so that the sun was on my face, but I couldn’t see him. “Comfortable, Miss Wolfe?”

“Absolutely. Like a pig in mud.”

Why did I just say that?

He chuckled and sat down, his canvas in front of him. “Let’s begin then.”

I didn’t know what was more unnerving, the absolute silence that followed for the next twenty minutes, or knowing that his eyes were solely focused on me. My nipples hardened when his gaze landed there, and I cursed myself for not walking out of there the second I’d seen him.

We took a quick break so that I could drink some water and stretch my limbs, then got right back to it. This time, though, he was intent on breaking the silence, no matter how much I tried to avoid his questions.

“Tell me about your childhood,” he said, partially visible behind his canvas.

“I was a child, and then I grew up. The end.”

“That’s not what I meant. What happened to your mother?” There was no humor in his voice.

I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. There was no getting out of this conversation, and I knew it.

“I guess you could say she died of a broken heart. She was—the perfect mother when I was younger. Got me my first camera when I was six. Taught me to love nature, that everything was beautiful and had its place in this world, even if it didn’t always feel like it. She made me want to capture it all on camera.

“We didn’t have much, but we had each other. After my older brother Jameson was murdered, she just fell apart.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. No matter how many times I talked about this, which was rare, it never got easier. The pain of losing someone you loved never went away. It just buried itself deep inside of you and festered away. And just when you thought you’d forgotten about the pain, something—a smell, a picture, literally anything—would show up and slap you in the face and say,Hey, remember your good old friend grief? Did you think I would let you forget about me? Because I will never, ever let you go.

I didn’t say any of that. I cleared my throat and focused on getting the words out. “She was in love with the idea of love. Always chasing it. She met Ray, who was a widower with twins. Eventually, they got married. He was a real piece of shit even back then. He’d hit her, and when I tried to stop him, he’d hit me. Not the twins though. I would have killed him in his sleep if he’d ever laid a finger on them.”

The anger that would rush through me when I saw him hit her had been like a volcano erupting inside of me. It had made me feel strong, but he would knock me down just as quick when I tried to help. After a while, he hit her less and less, and then when she gotsick, it stopped completely.

“Congestive heart failure. She took medicine for a while and was OK. But Ray, he would cheat on her and rub it in her face. Just totally trying to destroy any self-worth she had. She was always crying, sad, and it was like she just gave up. Her heart just gave up.” I let the coldness envelop me. That was how I’d survived it back then. Just let the numbness take over my body so I wouldn’t have to feel anything.

“Do you want me to kill him?”

I jumped at Kreos’ deep voice, snapping my head in his direction. The intensity in his eyes made my breath catch. I knew he would do it if I said yes. Could I live with myself if I did that?

Probably.

“Not right now, but I appreciate it.” I smiled, an actual genuine smile, and turned back to hold my pose.

He nodded and went back to painting. “What happened after Albany?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. OK, now was not the time to bring up Albany when I was practically kneeling in front of him naked.

“I did what you said. It took a few weeks for Ray to get back, then another few weeks to find me and the twins. But when he did, I busted both of his kneecaps with a bat.” I grinned at the memory. Maybe I was sick in the head, but the look on his face when he’d cowered before me, terrified I would kill him, had made me happy.

Yeah, let’s not ever admit that out loud.

“I knew you could do it.” Kreos chuckled, and the sound sent a jolt of electricity through me. “Tell me more about your brother, Jameson.”

“Oh, no, Kreos. That’s enough reliving my past trauma. It’s your turn now. What about your family?”

“What do you want to know?” His voice turned cold.

“Tell me about your parents.” Surely, they couldn’t be that bad.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “My mother is a master at manipulation. She gets pleasure out of pitting her children against each other, but she loves to see me suffer the most. She knows nothing about loyalty, or sanity, for that matter.”

OK, maybe playing twenty questions with a mafia boss wasn’t the best idea. I should have stopped while I was ahead, but I was morbidly curious. “And your father?”

“My father rose to power at twenty-five in Russia by assassinating the Pakhan and his inner circle. He killed them and their entire families. Generations erased in a matter of hours. That’s how he claimed his throne.”

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