Page 36 of Claiming Genevieve

“No, I’ll handle it,” I say quickly. I’m not entirely sure that Alek might not come out himself, and that’s going to open up a whole other nest of problems if the two of them get into a fight. I don’t need someone else knocking Chris out cold. “I promise, it’s fine. Just let me talk to him, and I’ll be inside in a minute.”

“If you’re sure.” Dahlia frowns, but she gives Evelyn a quick hug, slipping out of the car. I do the same, gathering up my crutches and following Dahlia, who I see shoots Chris a dirty look on her way toward the front door of the brownstone. The moment she opens the door, I hear Puff barking, and Chris makes a face.

That contemptuous look doesn’t fade as his gaze sweeps over me, taking me in as I hobble toward him on my crutches. He looks at me with what seems like a mixture of disgust and pity, and then his expression smooths as he straightens, just as I stop in front of him.

“You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts.” He looks at me, his bright blue eyes meeting mine. “Did that driver who came to the penthouse not give it back to you? I know, by the way,” he says derisively. “I have security cameras.”

“I know you do. And Rory did give me my phone back.”

“So why haven’t you answered me?” He looks genuinely confused, and it almost makes me want to laugh. He clearly can’t fathom why I wouldn’t be inclined to talk to him.

I open my mouth to reply, when Chris’s gaze drifts to my hand, and he sees the engagement ring there.

His eyes narrow, darkening with anger in an instant, and his gaze flies back up to mine. “Well, there’s my answer,” he says coldly. His tone drops, every word icy as he speaks. “Is it that Irish dickhead, Genevieve? Were you lying to me the whole fucking time?”

I take a slow breath, stepping back a little as best as I can on my crutches. “Yes, and no,” I start to say, but Chris cuts me off before I can keep speaking.

“Fuck you, Genevieve,” he spits. “Fuck you, bitch. You told me there was nothing going on. You fucking lying cunt?—”

“Stop it!” I snap. “If Dahlia’s husband sees or hears you acting like this, you’re going to regret it. You should go.”

A cold smile spreads across his lips. “Is that a threat?”

I shake my head. “I’m not threatening you, Chris. I’m just giving you the facts. You don’t want to deal with Alek. I’ve been trying to keep all of this quiet, just between the two of us, so that neither he nor Dimitri gets involved. If they knew you hit me?—”

“Apparently you had it coming. Cheating bitch,” he spits, and I take another step back, staggering a little at the venom in his voice.

“I never lied to you,” I say evenly. “Rowan asked me to marry him after I left the penthouse with him. It was very—unexpected. There was nothing going on between us before that.”

“And you just expect me to believe that?”

I shrug, and I can see that my nonchalance is pissing him off even more. “You can believe whatever you want. But it’s the truth. He offered me an arrangement that made sense, and I said yes. That’s all there is to it, and it happened after we were already done.”

“I don’t believe you, you fucking bitch?—”

“Alright.” I shake my head. “Enough. We had a good run, Chris, but it always had an end date. I don’t know why you’re acting like this. It’s not like you wanted forever either?—”

His eyes flare with anger. “You have no idea what I wanted.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I think I have a pretty good idea. You wanted the prima ballerina that I used to be. I don’t think you’re interested in me as I am now. You wouldn’t want me like this if you met me today. And the way you’re acting just proves what I think.”

Chris sneers at me. “And what do you think?”

I take another step back, my heart hammering behind my ribs. “I think you’re just pissed that your toy got taken away beforeyouchose to ditch me—not the other way around. And you’re angry that another, more powerful man stepped in.” I smile tightly at him, anger pulsing at my temples. “We’re done, Chris. I don’t want to see you again.”

Chris glares at me, and I see the muscle in his clenched jaw leap. “We’re not done, Genevieve,” he hisses. “You have no idea what kind of connections I have, the hell that I could make your life. More powerful? You don’t know the half of the people I do. You’re going to fucking regret this, you fucking?—”

The front door to the brownstone opens, and he looks up sharply. I follow his gaze and see Alek standing there, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he looks at Chris. I have no idea if he heard any of the conversation, but Chris backs down quickly.

“Watch your back, cunt,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes at me as he yanks open the door to his car. “Your Irish boyfriend can’t do shit about what I could do to you.”

He disappears into the car, revving the engine and spitting gravel as he speeds down the driveway, leaving me stumbling back to get out of the way. Alek comes down the steps, hurrying to my side and offering me his arm as he watches the Jaguar drive away.

“Are you alright,mladshaya sestra?” His accent is thick—unlike Dimitri, who spent his whole life in New York City and has a lighter accent… and only ever speaks Russian to Evelyn—Alek often slips into it. A side effect of having spent years in a Russian prison, Dahlia told me once.

“I’m fine.” I give him a tight smile. “Just an ex being a dick. It’s nothing to worry about. What does that mean, anyway?” I ask, as I take his arm to help steady me up the driveway.

“Little sister.” Alek grins. “I always wanted one. Lucky for me, my marriage seems to have come with two of them.”

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