Page 62 of Imperfect Desires

“I—” My throat closes up. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Viktor’s voice is low and deadly. “You crossed a line, Lev. You know that right?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No.” His tone sharpens. “Don’t lie to me. You meant it. You knew exactly what you were doing when you slept with my sister.”

I close my eyes, pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose.

“You were like a brother to me,” Viktor says coldly. “And you betrayed me.”

“I know,” I say quietly.

Viktor’s breathing is steady. Too steady.

“But because of those years we had,” he continues, his voice even sharper now, “I won’t hunt you down.”

My breath hitches.

“But if I see you — if you set foot anywhere near me — I will not be responsible for what I do to you.”

My stomach clenches painfully. I grip the phone so tightly my knuckles ache.

“Do you understand me?” Viktor’s voice drops an octave.

“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.

There’s another long silence. Then Viktor’s breath hisses through the line. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

The line goes dead, and I sit there for a long time, the phone still pressed to my ear. The sound of Viktor’s voice, the coldness in it — it cuts deeper than I thought it would. I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees, hands clenched together; my pulse hammers in my ears. I should have known this would be his reaction. I did know. But hearing it is different from preparing for it. Viktor might kill me, but I’m not walking away this time. Life without Alina would be worse than death.

I toss the phone onto the couch and rise to my feet. I won’t go to Viktor right now. He needs time. He needs to cool off — if he ever will.

But Alina?

My hands tighten into fists at my sides.

I left her once.

I’m not making that mistake again.

My chest tightens painfully as I walk toward the window, the city glittering beneath the night sky. I don’t know how this will play out, but I know one thing. I’m going after her. And this time, I’m not letting go.

21

Alina

I sit stiffly in the back seat of the black SUV as it glides through the streets of New York toward the airport. My hands are neatly folded in my lap, my nails pressing into the soft leather of my purse. My head rests lightly against the window, but I’m not looking at the passing cityscape. My gaze is unfocused, and my mind repeats the same thought again and again.

I’m going back to Russia.

Viktor made that decision without considering me. Of course, he didn’t have to. I knew this was coming; it was inevitable after I told him I was pregnant. He didn’t yell at me or rage, but the quiet disappointment in his eyes was far worse. My brother had always been a force, a man who commanded respect and loyaltywith nothing more than his presence. And I had betrayed that legacy.

I close my eyes, pressing my forehead to the cool glass. My stomach twists painfully, the telltale churning a grim reminder of my pregnant condition.

There’s a piece of Lev growing inside me- a reminder of the man who left me behind. I don’t regret it—not even for a second—but shame burns beneath my skin when I think about going back to Russia like this. Yelena married into one of the most powerful Greek families, securing an alliance that strengthened our bratva’s position. And me? I’m the sister who became pregnant out of wedlock and couldn’t even keep the father of my child.

It’s humiliating.

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