Page 31 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

“Huh?” I say.

“May not look like much now, me, but I still know what’s what—and that one, he’s a dangerous man.” Her voice is hoarse, and something about her weathered, narrow-eyed face doesn’t look delusional at all, only wise. “A bad, dangerous man.”

“What are you saying?”

But she’s already turned away, muttering under her breath. I ignore the weird feeling she woke up in the pit of my stomach. The line moves on until, all at once, I’m there. In front of him, while my pepperoni slice is slapped on my plate.

He’s looking at me again.

In a way that defies description and logic. A way that conveys something: want, interest, and—this is what makes my palms sweat—ownership. Dominance. Control.

I swallow, but I don’t look away. If he thinks he can intimidate me just because I look like some homeless wretch, then he’s got another thing coming.

“What’s your name?” Gavril asks.

His voice is granite scraping on granite. It’s the voice of a man who’s seen things, done things, and learned to live with the consequences. A shadow goes over his eyes, like he’s maybe made a mistake in speaking to me.

My turn to talk, right? “Joy,” I mutter.

The line’s shuffling on, leaving me behind. Everyone is hurrying off to inhale their slice so they can pretend to be a different miserable hobo and grab another one.

“Glad you could come out today, Joy.”

“Thanks.” I’m surprised at how nonchalant I sound, that I can do a ‘devil-may-care’ tone to match his. “Had to clear my schedule, but I found time.”

He laughs. This time, it’s a real one, reaching his eyes. By the time he stops, his look is something like,Well, aren’t you something?

Ha. He has no idea.

Someone jostles me, a wino who smells like it. I shoot Gavril Vaknin one last half smile before continuing on.

Goodbye forever.

As I leave, I can feel his eyes on me. Probably trying to figure how much I’d cost, how much trouble I’d be worth.

There’s no sign of Teddy or Wanda anywhere. I’m too hungry to find a more secluded spot further on, so I sit down at one of the packed tables and get eating.

The first taste of pizza is pure bliss, even better than expected.

The rush of heat. The give of mozzarella cheese. Crisp of slightly charred pepperoni. Swish of tomato sauce. Crunch of cheese-filled dough.

Mmmm.

I close my eyes. Yes, maybe life is shit. And yes, maybe I’m homeless with hardly a cent to my name … but at least there’s pizza.

It is a rare slice of heaven.

But once I’ve eaten my way through about halfway my pizza, I realize there’s something very wrong.

Mainly, that the top crust of my pizza suddenly has fingers.

My rainbow-haired nemesis, the one I had the good sense to avoid earlier, has decided that one pizza slice is not enough for her. She tugs on my pizza, hard, almost ripping it away from me.

Suddenly, something spikes in me, wild and angry and reckless.

The men catcalling. The extended looks. Licked lips. Ruben grabbing me. Damon undoing his pants. Mom’s endless stare.

You’re ours, ours to do with as we please, it’s our world, don’t say anything, you can’t say anything, you can’t do anything!That’s what my life seems to be saying to me, over and over again, for as long as I can remember.

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