Page 24 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

I can’t bring myself to do anything but look at her feet on the carpet.

She presses forward and continues. “And you liked it, right? Honey, no one could possibly blame you for that. He’s a manipulator. He knew how to push your buttons. He had money and power and every ounce of control in the whole situation. It’s not your fault, boo. He pulled the wool over your eyes before you even knew what was happening.”

That’s the thing with siblings. They know so much about you. Too much. They see the guilt and shame in your eyes before you even feel it yourself.

And they know where all your scars are hidden.

I sit down slowly and close my eyes.

“Are you okay?” Mia murmurs, sitting beside me and putting one hand on my back.

I nod without opening my eyes again. “I think I just need to rest.”

I’m all alone here, trapped by myself inside the one place I never thought I’d have to be alone—my own family. I just need a second to breathe. Maybe, if she thinks she got to me, she’ll give me a little space.

“Of course,” she says, squeezing my shoulder. “You must be tired.”

I just nod again, meek with exhaustion both real and faked.

“Get some sleep. I’ll come check on you in a few hours.”

The moment she’s gone, I grab a pillow and hug it to my chest. I collapse onto the soft cushions of the sofa I’m sitting on and lie there in a fetal position until my heartbeat has slowed to a dull, aching throb.

The whole time, I think about that soft kiss Aleks gave me just before we parted. A man who kisses like that can’t be all bad.

Can he?

6

ALEKS

We’re ten minutes from the city when the car phone rings.

Demyan is behind the wheel, so of course the drive has been jerky and impatient. He swerves around a delivery guy on a motorcycle, overtakes two school buses, and then whips back into the right lane.

I answer the phone. “Yeah?”

“Boss, the target has landed,” reports Connor, my man assigned to tailing Hargrove.

“Where?”

“The High Tail,” he says. “He’s making his way over to the VIP section as we speak. Private table, smack dab in the middle.”

“Who’s he meeting with?”

“Couple of old fucks in suits. I don’t recognize any of them.”

“Keep an eye on him. Demy and I will be there in ten.”

“Roger, boss.”

“Demy and I?” Demyan repeats once I hang up. “I think you meant, ‘Just Demy.’ Where the hell do you think you're going?”

“I can stay under the radar.”

“You’re a little noticeable,” he points out. “Most dudes who are six-five aren’t billionaires, and most billionaires aren’t six-five. Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks for that scintillating bit of logic. I’m still coming. Like I said, if I don’t want to be seen, I won’t be. Now, shut up and drive faster.”

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