Page 109 of Porcelain Lies

“Maybe that’s exactly what you are,”Boyana whispers.“A dirty little secret with his baby in your belly.”

“Stop it,” I mutter, but I don’t sound convincing. She’s right. What else could I be? Is this what I’d been reduced to? A vessel to carry the child of a Russian mafia boss because Miss Perfect Tits down there won’t have stretchmarks on her belly?

My hand is on my stomach again. This baby complicates everything. What place could we possibly have in Aleksei’s world of perfect fiancées and mansion wings?

For so many reasons, I don’t belong here.

Chapter Thirty-One

Aleksei

The door slams against the wall with enough force to rattle my desk.

Sofia storms in, her designer heels stabbing the hardwood floor like daggers. The scent of her signature Chanel perfume hits me — cloying, suffocating.

“How dare you humiliate me like that?” Her voice reaches that shrill pitch that sets my teeth on edge. “In front of everyone!”

I don’t bother looking up from the contracts spread across my desk. “Zatknis.” The Russian command to shut up slips out before I can stop it.

“Don’t you dare tell me to shut up!” Sofia’s manicured hands slam onto my desk, scattering papers. “You made me look like a fool in front of the entire Bratva!”

My patience, already wearing thin from lack of sleep and thoughts of Stella, snaps like a rubber band pulled too tight. I rise slowly from my chair, letting my height and size remind her exactly who’s territory she just wandered into without an invitation.

“You want an explanation, Sofia?” The quiet in my voice carries more threat than any shout. “Here it is — I won’t marry you. Not today. Not ever.”

Her perfectly painted lips tremble. “But the alliance—”

“Fuck the alliance.” The words feel like freedom. “Your father’s support isn’t worth a lifetime of this.”

Sofia’s face contorts, tears threatening to ruin her immaculate makeup. “Is there someone else? Did you find yourself a whore?”

The accusation ignites something dark inside me. I lean forward, palms flat on the desk, watching her instinctively step back. “Choose your next words very carefully.”

Sofia’s face crumples, mascara-stained tears tracking down her cheeks. “You humiliated me, Aleksei. In front of everyone!”

Ah.

Now we’re at the root of the matter.

I remain unmoved by her display. Tears are weapons women use to manipulate men weaker than me. “You’ll get over it, Sofia.”

“Never!” she sobs. “My reputation is in ruins. I am a laughing stock!”

“People forget. Next week, they’ll be laughing about something else.” I shrug.

“I can’t believe you’d say such a thing!” She shakes her head. “It’s not just me, you know. My father’s good name has been dragged through the mud. Not to mention the money he spent.”

I raise an eyebrow. “He can afford it.” Considering the old piece of shit made most of his fortune on human trafficking, I don’t feel any guilt.

“My dress alone cost $283,000! As for my hair and shoes—”

I snort out a laugh. “Who the fuck spends $283,000 on a wedding dress?”

She gasps. “Kim Kardashian spent $400,000 on hers and Salma Hayek’s cost $613,000!”

“Well, there’s your problem. You should be marrying Kanye West.”

“You’re not taking me seriously,” she wails.

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