Page 24 of Cruel Longing

Deep down I knew the answer. He was behind the fire. He had to be. It wasn’t a coincidence that Luka had left New Orleans rebuking my father’s offer to marry me into the Novikov family and publicly embarrassing him.

“I don’t appreciate your tone.”

My eyes fired. “My tone? You’re upset about how I sound? His offices were burned. He could have been hurt. He could have been killed. What about the people who work there? The people who are also at the Novikov compound? You’re worried about how it sounds instead of human life?” I scoffed. “That’s your takeaway? Really? My God, have you ever heard yourself talk?”

“Say what it is you’re thinking instead of being a coward. I’ve raised you to at least do that much. What’s on your mind?”

“You mean train me,” I snarled. “You never raised me.”

“Say it,” he snapped, ignoring the dig I had made at my upbringing. “What is it you think about your dear papa?”

“I’m thinking that the arsonist hasn’t been caught. According to the news report, the police have no suspects. I’m thinking there is a good chance my father had someone set that fire just to screw Luka over a little bit more. Maybe ensure he never returns to New Orleans. I’m thinking this has your signature all over it. You are trying to destroy him. Punish him for turning you down.”

“What would be the point in that?” he asked. “Why would I waste resources like that?”

“But you don’t deny that you did it.” I exhaled, standing from my chair. Rage had started to mix with despair. It was a sickening sensation. I knew it was him. It had to be.

“Sit back down. You have breakfast to eat.”

I laughed at my father as if eating was important in this moment. All I could think about was calling Luka. I wanted to hear his voice. I needed to know he was okay. That he had all his limbs with no scars or burns. There was a desperation inside me thatwanted to put us back together, but I had no idea how or where to start. The fire had the opposite effect my father wanted. It drove me to Luka, not away from him. Luka needed to know I was worried. That I cared. That I still loved him.

“I’m not hungry.” I turned from him. “I have work to do.”

“Don’t do it, Amara,” he warned.

“Do what?” I spun just quickly enough to make my hair lift from my shoulders.

“He’s gone. Leave him alone. He has work to do too. You’ll only interfere with what he has to do to rebuild. He doesn’t need you.”

“He has a name,” I hissed. “Luka.” My voice was defiant. “Novikov.” Inciting his name was the match that lit the fuse. I was defiant, but I wasn’t prepared for the explosion.

My father slammed his fist on the table. Everything clattered. The coffee cup slipped and shattered on the patio. Shards flew around his feet, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

“Don’t raise your voice at me. And do not speakthatname inthishouse.” His cheeks turned a ruddy red as if his veins could crack through his tough skin. “The son of my enemy is also my enemy.”

I swallowed. I had retorts. I had mean, awful things to say. But uttering any of them was dangerous. Loving Luka had cost so much. Some days I thought I paid for that kind of love with the outer edges of my soul. When my training was over, would I have any pieces of it left, or would it have eroded all the way to the center? Would I remember how to love? Would I remember what it felt like to care about someone the way I cared about Luka?

I took a step backward. There were so many times I wanted to run. I wanted to quit my training and abandon my family name.

“If he loved you,” my father continued. “He would have taken you with him. You and I both know that’s true.”

I shook my head. “You don’t know anything about him or his circumstances. How could you? You never bothered to get to know him.”

“I know he’s not good enough for you. He’s Bratva. I know he’s never going to be good enough.”

“That’s not true.” I was close to cracking. Close to collapsing. Close to showing my father I still knew how to cry.

“Amara, he was here for the wedding. Did he call you?”

I didn’t answer.

“Did he call you when he was in New Orleans?” The anger in his voice reverberated around the pool.

“No.”

My pain shouldn’t have been his triumph, but it was. There was joy on his face. A smile that should have been reserved for happy moments, not when his daughter’s heart broke all over again.

“Don’t forget what he has done. What he continues to do.” He balled his fist at me. “Hold on to that shame. The utter embarrassment he caused you. Remind yourself that he deserves everything coming to him. He had a choice. They all did. They’ll realize their mistake. You and I will make sure of that.”

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