Page 52 of Beautiful Scar

“Haven’t seen his room yet?” Arsen snorts and walks over to the bar cart. He pours himself a drink. “It’s all black and red, and I’m pretty sure he’s got handcuffs permanently installed on the four posts of his bed.”

“Why would he—” Dasha starts to say, but then her cheeks turn bright red, and she shuts her mouth when she realizes what it means.

I could kill Arsen right now. He’s messing with her just to be a dick. Dasha’s on edge enough; she doesn’t need him teasing her on top of her anxiety.

Although he’s not totally wrong.

“Here you go,” Dasha says, returning with Sona’s tea. Then she sits back down, her cheeks still burning red. Fuck, she’s so cutewhen she’s embarrassed. Maybe Arsen’s right, and I do need to introduce her to my own little domain.

One thing at a time.

“Tell me, Dasha, how did you get that scar?” Sona asks out of nowhere.

Dasha instantly stiffens. Arsen’s slurping down some whiskey and doesn’t really react, while I’m on high alert. It’s pretty obvious that Dasha’s scar is a sore subject for her, and she doesn’t like to talk about it. The first time I touched it, she looked like her head might explode. I’ve been meaning to ask myself, but apparently, I have more tact than my aunt does.

“It was a while back,” she says, touching her cheek, then quickly pulling her fingers away. “And it wasn’t a very interesting story.”

“Please, scars are always fascinating. I have a few of my own. You should see the one I gave Arsen.”

My brother comes over, chortling. “Stabbed me in the fucking shoulder. Want to see?” He starts shrugging off his jacket.

“Leave your clothes on around my wife,” I snarl.

“You stabbed him?” Dasha asks, looking between them in a panic.

Aunt Sona looks strangely nostalgic. “Our sides of the family were at war. He showed up at a fundraiser I was throwing, thinking he could negotiate.”

“Instead, she went ahead and just—” Arsen mimes jabbing a knife into his shoulder.

“I was aiming for his heart,” Aunt Sona says with a fond sigh. “Damn my bad eyesight. Old age is rough, kids.”

Dasha goes pale as she looks between them. If only she knew their actual relationship, then she might start screaming. The situation is even more fucked than she realizes.

“Dasha’s not going to talk about her scar,” I say firmly.

“That’s her choice,” Sona answers, giving me a hard look. “If she wants to talk?—”

“She doesn’t.” I lean toward Aunt Sona. “And you’ll be polite to my wife, or I’m going to throw you out.”

“Don’t start this again,” Arsen says, sounding exhausted.

I hold Sona’s gaze. She stares right back.

And for the first time in a while, she seems to get it. I don’t know why, but she turns to Dasha and even gives her a little smile. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, dear. In our world, as I’m sure you’re aware, scars are commonplace. I sometimes forget that they’re born from trauma. Lord knows we all have enough of that to go around.”

I’m honestly a little stunned. Is Aunt Sona actually trying to be kind for once in her miserable life? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her show any empathy before.

It’s like watching a vicious, rabid dog playfully lick its owner.

“Thank you for understanding,” Dasha says lightly, and I can tell she’s struggling to control her emotions. “It was a long time ago, but sometimes it feels like it happened just yesterday.”

Aunt Sona pats her leg. “I understand. If you ever want to talk, feel free to look me up.”

The room goes quiet. I think Arsen’s shocked too. He gives me a look like,What the hell was that?Before Aunt Sona changes the subject and asks Dasha about her father’s business.

We make more small talk. I’m on edge the whole time, ready to defend Dasha at the slightest provocation. But Sona’s on her best behavior, and Arsen even manages to make her laugh once or twice, and by the time I usher them out of her room, Dasha seems pretty okay.

“I have another meeting,” Aunt Sona announces in the hall, checking her phone. “And about twelve missed calls I have to return.” Her face returns to that ugly stern glare. Life returns to normal. “Tigran, your wife is a delight, and you don’t deserve her.” She turns smartly and strides off.

---