Page 20 of Scarlet Vows
A small smile breaks out on Santo’s face as he runs a finger around the rim of his glass. “You know, I thought you were full of shit when you said you were engaged, but here you are with your fiancé, clearly in love.” He raises a hand. “No shade from me for finding love again so quickly. When it happens, it happens, and you two are… Congratulations.”
My stomach flips and catches on a corner of guilt.
We’re not in love, obviously not, but the fact Ilya and I look so natural together unnerves me. It feels…almost like a betrayal to Max.
“I’m not a liar,” I force out.
This is true, even if I’m lying about me and Ilya.
This is a rebuttal gone astray.
Santo refills our glasses and takes a sip, then he tosses a glance Ilya’s way. “What did you say your name was?”
Every muscle in Ilya’s body vibrates and tightens, and I put a hand on his iron-like thigh to stop him from doing something stupid.
“Ilya,” he says, his jaw clenching.
“You’re a lucky man, Ilya.” Santo lifts his glass. “I’m not used to being turned down, especially for someone so clearly beneath both me and the beautiful Alina.”
I didn’t think the man could tense any more, but Ilya does. I hear the almost soundless growl.
I look at Ilya, my stomach tightening. I shouldn’t have dragged him into this mess.
Santo’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Ilya is trying to bore bullet holes into Santo’s skull with his gaze.
“Is there a dessert menu? Or do you want to call it a night, honey?” I say, wincing inwardly at the horrible generic term.
Neither man glances at me nor acknowledges me, though Ilya’s thigh muscle twitches once.
“I mean, you’re Demyan’s little bitch boy, right? I have my own fucking empire.” Santo’s words sound cruel and boastful. He looks at me. “Is it a pity thing?”
“Alina makes up her own mind,” Ilya says. “Even if she was single, she wouldn’t choose you.”
“Or her fucking brother decided to reward his pet with his sister?”
“Actually, my grandfather is Aleksandr Belov. You’ve heard of the Belov Bratva, right?” Ilya says calmly. “Pretty soon, it’s all going to be mine.”
I bite down on a gasp and struggle to keep the shock off my face.
I’ve known Ilya forever, since I can remember. He’s part of our family because he lost his so young. So why am I hearing about this for the first time right now?
Obviously, I’m just bratva by birth. I keep out of it all, as much as I can, so I have no idea who this Aleksandr Belov is.
But Santo knows.
Surprise blooms on his handsome face, and there’s a glimmer of unwanted admiration in his eyes.
Ilya’s family must be important.
Because the big blond man is not only impressed, but his pissing contest ends as his demeanor changes to one of abject interest.
“Interesting. How did I not know this?”
A lesser man may try to jump on that and take Santo down, but Ilya doesn’t.
“It’s not something I advertise,” he says.
“Apparently so.” Santo clicks his fingers, and the waitstaff brings a cheese board as well as a dessert trolley over. “Whatever you wish for, Alina.”
