Page 15 of Sweet Deception
In a swift, brutal motion, he ripped himself out of my grip. I wasn’t expecting it. One second he was there, the next, gone.
"Gleb!" I screamed after him, but he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
My pulse pounded in my ears. Was he really going to kill him?
Panic seized my body.
I dragged myself into the wheelchair, trembling, and raced down the hall after him.
I barely made it down the hallway before Gleb appeared again.
I froze.
His white dress shirt was drenched in blood.
“Please tell me you haven’t killed that innocent man?”
A strangled scream escaped my throat when I saw what he was holding.
Something heavy landed on my lap.
It was a severed hand.
My blood curdling scream ripped through the air.
"You butchered him!” blood soaked into my skirt. I shoved it off, my voice breaking into anguish sobs. “You’re a monster! You’re the fucking devil!”
Gleb didn’t flinch. He wiped his stained hands on a handkerchief, his movements slow, deliberate. “He touched you,” he said, as if that explained everything.
His gaze lifted to the doorway, where shadows shifted, his men, always watching. “And now they’ll all know. Cross me, and you lose more than your pride.”
I choked on my tears. “How will Ignat ever dance again?”
“He won’t.” Gleb tossed the bloodied cloth aside and leaned close, his voice a venomous whisper. “Let that be a lesson, to him, to you, to every bastard in this house. No one forgets what’smine.” He straightened, brushing a speck of blood from his sleeve.
This was the third time I had seen him since our wedding and I had only known his cruelty in flashes, the cold dismissal on our wedding day, the murder of my chaperone, and now this: a man maimed because someone dared touch me.
He didn’t even listen to apologies.
"Enough stalling. Take me and get me pregnant already so I can finally be free of this hellhole," I spat, trembling with rage.
His icy gaze flickered.
He took a slow, deliberate step forward and bent down, his fingers lifting my chin.
I jerked away. "Don't touch me!"
"I will."
His hand returned to my chin, firmer this time. I slapped it away, but he caught my wrist effortlessly, tilting my face toward his.
"You want to learn how to dance?" His tone was laced with both menace and a mocking tenderness.. "I’ll teach you."
As if you know anything about dancing," I shot back, bitterness mingling with defiance.
His lips curled into a predatory smirk. "10 AM tomorrow. Be ready."
"I'll never learn from a psycho like you," I retorted.
