Page 71 of Cruel Existence

I grimaced. “Amara. And I don’t think anyone would say that.”

“Yes.” Her expression changed. Her smile curled like Maleficient’s would. “She’s the queen now. Taking things. Ruling them. Spitting in the faces of good families. Our families. Our people, Luka.”

“I heard.” I didn’t want to acknowledge much when my mother was like this.

“But she’s beautiful. That’s what they say. So gorgeous.” Her words ran together from the wine. “They just want to fuck her.”

The words were like a punch. As angry as I was at Amara, at my father, at Maksim—the idea that anyone in the city would violate or hurt Amara set every protective instinct I had on fire. I wound my fingers into a tight fist.

“Okay. I need to get you upstairs,” I cut her off. There was a button on the desk that would ring for one of the house managers. I pressed it, counting the seconds until someone carted her out of here.

“You still can’t have her.” Her finger extended in my direction. “You can never have her.”

“And why is that?” I took the bait. I wondered if my father had mentioned the new contract of marriage he was about to propose.

“She doesn’t think you’re good enough for her anymore.” My mother shrugged when one of the new servants entered. “Are you, Luka? Are you good enough for the queen? Do you ask yourself that? Is that what you’re wondering?”

“Mother, stop.”

She began to cackle. “And we all know you had her fathermurdered. I doubt she would let you touch her if she knew the monster you really are. Imagine that little confession.”

Ice ran along my spine. My muscles tightened. Fuck. My mother knew all the buttons to press.

“Good night. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

This was a damn nightmare. A family saga, torn from a Greek tragedy or a Russian one. My mother was a goddamn loose cannon.

“Good night.” She held onto the man’s arm, and I was glad when I couldn’t hear her voice any longer.

I took my glass and wandered the grounds of the compound. It was aimless, pointless walking. From outside, things seemed the same as my last visit home. That had been for Katya’s wedding. The lawn was manicured. The fountains churned. The hedges were in neat rows. It appeared as if nothing had changed. I climbed the stairs to the pool deck. I stared at my reflection in the pool.

I couldn’t admit it to anyone. I couldn’t utter the words. Or let them see the cracks. Fuck. I wanted to jump in the deep end. Stay under a little too long. Hide under the diving board. Let pain consume my body. Make my lungs burn. My muscles ache. Anything, but to feel what I felt. I didn’t want to swim or float. I couldn’t keep treading water like this.

I crouched next to the water, skimming the top with my palm.

My mother’s words had crept into my thoughts. Did I want Amara? Did it matter if she would forgive me? I had made her mine five years ago.

Was that the answer to all of this?

Thirty-One

AMARA

Ispent my entire day in and out of meetings. By the time I arrived home, all I wanted to do was kick my heels across the room and sip a crisp wine.

Bella greeted me in the kitchen. “You’re home so late. You’ve been working a lot, Ms. Amato.”

I managed a smile. “It’s part of my responsibilities.”

The sun had started to set.

“Can I bring you a cocktail?” she asked.

“Yes. Wine in the pool courtyard, please.”

“I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

I changed into a swimsuit. It was a red one-piece with a deep V that stopped just below my navel. The sides had been strategically cut away. I was hot, and I thought about swimming laps tonight.

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