Page 66 of Disgraced (Russian Sinners 3)

Michail must have been waiting because he came right out.

“You look like shit,” he greeted me, trying to hide concern in his eyes,

“Thanks,” I retorted dryly. “And you look like an ass.”

Andrey took my one side while Michail took the other.

“Just help me to the top of the stairs,” I told them. “Then I can take it from there.”

“Sure you can,” muttered Michail.

I didn’t want Scarlett to see me like this. I wondered where she was but also dreaded hearing the answer. I almost expected Michail to tell me she refused to see me or talk to me, that she demanded to go back home. Instead nothing… she just acted edgy.

At the top of the stairs, the wide front entrance door was wide open.

“Thanks for the help, guys. I got it now.”

They both let go but still remained close, as if they expected me to pass out any second. I walked slowly into my home and that’s when I saw her. It was like someone hit me in the chest. She looked the same but not exactly. She was paler than I remembered, her dark, long hair pulled up into a messy bun. She wore a loose, big shirt and tight leggings.

God, she made this place feel like home. Just by being here, in her casual clothes.

Her body was leaning against the wall, her arms over her chest, but her eyes were on me. Unlike all the other times, there wasn’t a soft smile greeting, nor arms wrapped around me. I didn’t expect it, but fuck… I hoped for it.

I came up to her and stopped a mere five feet from her.

“Hello Scarlett,” I spoke up first. Damn, I missed her so much. I had to hold back or risk pulling her into my arms. Her dark eyes held anger and resentment. We stared at each other, silence stretching with each heartbeat.

Just as I thought she’d refuse to talk to me, she straightened up.

“You are a fucking asshole,” she spat at me.

“Let me explain w-”

“No! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told her. “We are going to be married. You’ll have to hear at least some things that I have to say.”

She turned, grabbed the vase closest to her and threw it at me. I barely dodged it at the last second. It crashed against the wall.

“That vase was for you,” I told her.

“Fuck that stupid vase,” she yelled. “And fuck you, dipshit. You… you,” she desperately searched for a word to call me. “You jerk! This whole time,” Her eyes flashed in anger. “The whole fucking time, you were lying to me.”

She reached to grab another vase and despite the fact I could barely walk up the stairs, the adrenaline kicked in. I closed the distance between us and took her hands in mine.

“Let go of me, you moron,” she spat at me. I towered over her but she wasn’t concerned at all.

“Stop it, solnce.”

“Shove solnce up your ass.” Yes, she was furious. She might need a year to calm down.

“Let me explain and you’ll understand then.” I tried to soothe her but nothing was working. She was so worked up, I’d be surprised she heard a single word I said.

“I understand clearly,” she retorted. “I don’t want your explanations nor lies.”

She pushed me away, turned around, and walked away from me without a backward glance. Not exactly the welcome home I hoped for, but I remained positive. She didn’t try to kill me. A vase to the head would have only hurt a bit. And if she wasn’t mad, it would mean she didn’t care.

Right?

“I take it from that encounter you have met your future wife before?” Michail asked in Russian.

“Don’t start, Michail,” I groaned. “I am really not in the mood.”

“When did you meet her?” Andrey asked curiously.

“Over four weeks ago in St. Petersburg, at the hotel she was staying at,” I told him, suddenly feeling tired. “We were going out that week, and when she went to Moscow, I followed.”

“And there wasn’t a moment in that time to let her know who you were?” Michail asked, a clear disbelief in his voice. “What the fuck did you expect?”

I didn’t answer him, instead I just headed for my room. “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”

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