Page 146 of Ruby Mercy

He barks out a laugh. “Don’t play dumb with me. You’re the reason we’re here in the first place.”

“It’s Mr. Kozlov’s party, not mine.”

Sasha carries on like I said nothing at all. “I actually couldn’t believe it when I saw you earlier. I can’t believe Kirill would bring you here the night we’re supposed to shake hands and make nice. What the fuck was he thinking?”

“It was Leonid’s idea,” I repeat.

I’m not sure if that helps, but I don’t like the way Sasha is saying Kirill’s name. I don’t like the anger that seems to be wafting off of him in waves like heat off of an asphalt road.

Sasha studies me with predatory eyes. “Are you already one of Leonid’s mistresses? Am I about to step on two different allies’ toes at the same time?”

“Having a simple, polite conversation won’t step on any toes.” My voice wavers as I try to swallow down my panic. “But no, I’m not his anything. Leonid was at Kirill’s house today and said he was short-staffed. He asked me to—”

“What were you doing at Kirill’s house?”

I have a feeling how I answer his question will determine how this interaction goes, but I’m not sure which answer will protect me. Ultimately, I land on the truth.

“I’m his maid,” I admit.

The smile that spreads across Sasha’s face tells me everything I need to know.

Wrong answer.

“You’re still his maid?” He pushes the door behind him mostly closed.

The only light comes from a small lamp in the corner with a purple cloth draped over the top of the shade. It casts the hollows of his cheeks in eerie blue shadows.

In the darkness, his eyes gleam. “After the way he acted at the last party, all protective and possessive, I would’ve thought you’d get a promotion, at least.”

“I didn’t have sex with him to get a promotion,” I snap.

There’s amusement in his eyes. He’s enjoying this far too much. “No, you did it because you had real, genuine feelings for him, I’m sure. You look like that kind of girl.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Sasha says. “Any insult is aimed at Kirill. He should have realized what he had when he had it. If he wanted you to be his shiny trophy on the shelf, he should have put you high up out of reach.”

He’s stalking towards me one step at a time and there’s nowhere else for me to escape to. I’m against the back wall and the purple light from the lamp is making my red dress look like a day-old bruise.

“I thought you all were here to reconcile. Leonid won’t like it if you're getting into trouble. Wouldn’t your dad expect better of you as his heir?”

I’m flailing for words, throwing absolutely anything and everything I can at the wall to see what will stick. To see what will crack through Sasha’s hard shell to the tiny, pulsing humanity I hope is hidden somewhere in his chest.

Because it’s becoming more and more painfully obvious how alone we are. How aloneIam.

No one is coming to save me.

I can only save myself.

Sasha’s nostrils flare and he crosses the distance between us at double speed. Suddenly, he’s in my space, the bitter scent of alcohol thick between us.

“My father was a pathetic, preening tagalong who worshiped at the altar of Kirill Zaitsev for far too long,” he hisses. “He refused to claim power himself to avoid stepping on Kirill’s toes.‘We can’t start a war with the Zaitsevs, Sasha. Kirill is an ally. His father was an ally.’What kind of ally forces you to remain small to be in their good graces?”

“The kind that doesn’t want a psychopathic son to take over the reins when his dad dies and drive tenuous alliances straight into the ground,” I suggest with a shrug. “Just a guess.”

I don’t want to antagonize him, but playing sweet and innocent won’t save me, either. If I have to go down, I’m not going without a fight.

Sasha’s smile is false and unsettling, almost like someone is manually lifting the corners with a hook and string. He reaches out and pinches a strand of my hair between his fingers. “Maybe it’s time I prove my loyalty to Kirill then. What do you think?”

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