Page 83 of Sweet Deception
“Is that what you really want?” His voice was quiet, raw.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
Gleb exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. “You... you can’t just leave.”
“Why not?”
He didn’t answer. His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was fighting something inside himself.
“Can you at least let my siblings go? Matteo and Salvatore?” I asked, voice barely steady.
“I can’t just walk in there and pull them out, Anna.”
I glared at him. “You’re the leader of the Bratva. You order executions without blinking. But you can’t free my brothers?”
His jaw clenched. “Not without risking a war with my own family.
A pause stretched between us. Finally, he nodded. “I will see what I can do.”
I pulled off the ring and held it out to him. “Have it. Give it to your new wife.”
He didn’t take it. Didn’t even look at it. Instead, he grabbed my wrist, forcing my fingers closed around the ring.
Gleb: “Keep it.” His voice was low, dangerous. Final.
As he walked toward the door, I forced myself to speak. “You say no one will hurt me again.”
He paused. “I mean it.”
I swallowed. “And what about you?”
He turned, his expression unreadable. “What about me?”
“Will you?”
For a moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper. “I have done enough damage.”
I let out a shaky breath.
I should have felt relieved. I was finally alone. Finally safe.
But the silence of the house felt suffocating. I gripped the sheets, my chest tightening. Would I ever truly be safe?
As if sensing my unease, Gleb turned back and said, “I’ve replaced the security. They answer to me alone, but we both know loyalty can be bought. If my grandmother tries, I’ll know.”
His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the deadly finality in his words. “But they are loyal to you, Anna.”
“If they’re really loyal to me, I could walk out that door right now.”
“They’re loyal to you but they still answer to me.”
“Then they aren’t mine, are they?”
“I’ll let you rest.” The door clicked shut behind him.
I tried to sleep, but the images wouldn’t stop. Hands restraining me. Clothes tearing. Hot, whiskey-stained breath on my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to focus on my breathing, but it did nothing to quiet the storm in my mind.
I gasped awake, my breath shuddering. My chest felt tight, my skin crawling with an invisible touch I couldn’t shake.
