Page 55 of Deceitful Lies

At first, I thought it was to make sure I hadn’t run away, but one night, he touched me. He didn’t know I was awake, and his fingers grazed my cheek, brushing my hair back. I waited for him to climb into our bed, but after a few seconds, the door clicked shut and he was gone.

Tonight, everything is off. I feel it deep in my gut that something is wrong. Andrei isn’t petty—he doesn’t have time for that passive-aggressive nonsense. He wouldn’t stay out all night to vex me.

No. Something is wrong.

I open the door of our suite and listen to the movement below me. It sounds as if the whole house is up and my first thought is panic, but I fight it back.

I am the pakhan’s wife, and I told Andrei I’d look after affairs at home. I hurry back into the bedroom and dress appropriately in the uniform of a Bratva wife—a Victoria Beckham wrap dress, ridiculously expensive Prada pumps, and Tiffany diamonds—before going downstairs.

“Paige?” Emma stands in her doorway, peeking out. “What’s going on?”

I place my hand on her shoulder, pushing her gently back into her room. “Nothing. Lock the door and wait for me.”

Emma frowns with doubt but does as I tell her. My family is safe. Now to check on my husband.

Vanya and Natasha stop speaking and watch me as I descend the grand stairs. My head held high, I approach them with confidence. I don’t dare ask what is happening. I pretend to know. “I’ll be in my husband’s office. Tell him I’m there.”

I know little about Vanya other than the fact that he is from Twin Rivers, and his grandparents were immigrants. He lacks the roughness of the other guards; his light brown hair and hazel eyes are closer to a college kid’s than a killer’s.

He nods. He’s only known me as Andrei’s wife, not his captive.

I pace the floor of Andrei’s office, waiting for him to come home. I pick at my nail polish, ruining another costly manicure as footsteps pass the door and continue down the hall. The sound of gravel crunching under tires sends me out into the hallway and hurrying into the living room. I peer out an unlit window and my skin cools with relief. Andrei’s Lamborghini is in the drive.

I hurry toward the front door. I don’t care if I look like a clinging wife. I’ll throw my arms around his neck and tell him how much I missed him. No more of this sullen bullshit, waiting for the other one to crack and spill their feelings. But Vanya’s hand grabs the doorknob first, preventing me from swinging it open.

“Please, Paige Geraldovna. Allow me to check first.”

My frustration comes out in a whine. “It’smyhusband’s car.”

Vanya doesn’t budge, silently obeying my husband’s unspoken orders. He knows what Andrei would expect, despite what I want.

I calm myself down and return to the window, peering through a space between the heavy drapes. I look at the car again—it’s electric blue, not silver. And a woman gets out of the driver’s side. Her silhouette is tall and lean as the spotlights suddenly flood the drive. I recognize that walk. Talia swings her long dark hair before she confidently climbs the steps to the front door balanced on sky-high heels.

My agitated gaze connects with Vanya’s before he opens the door. “Let her in. Bring her into my husband’s office.”

I scurry behind Andrei’s desk as if it’s a fortress of stone. I listen as the front door opens, and voices rise into heated words. Talia steps in the office doorway with Vanya close behind her. She tries to step forward, but Natasha appears in a flash and grips Talia’s shoulder, stopping her on the spot.

“Dobriy noch, Natasha,” Talia purrs, but she watches me. “So nice to see you again.”

Natasha doesn’t answer and checks Talia’s tiny purse. Expressionless, she hands it to Vanya to check again. Natasha kneels in front of Talia and pats her down in her tight spandex catsuit.

Talia laughs. “Careful, girl. You don’t want me to get excited. Or I’ll expect you to use your tongue.”

Natasha ignores the crass jibe and hurls a subtle one of her own. “No weapons,Mrs.Barinov. Shall I call for extra security?”

Talia scowls at her. “Watch your mouth, bitch.”

I force myself not to fidget or play with my jewelry. I want to run at her, beating Talia as my guards watch. Yes,myguards, not hers. But there’s a sliver of fear in my body as Talia eyes me like a shark.

I toss my hair before I sit down gracefully in Andrei’s chair. “Thank you, Natasha. Stay with me and watch her. If she so much as twitches in the wrong direction, shoot her.”

I’m no threat to her, but I won’t hand her control over the situation. Talia laughs as if I’m playing make-believe. She doesn’t know me anymore. Not after what she’s done. She’s changed me, and I’ll prove it.

“I’m carrying no weapons, silly girl.” She spins in a circle, showing off her toned figure in an outfit tighter than skin. Her heels are a glossy patent leather, and her jeweled bag bumps against her hip as she enters the room. “Where would I hide a gun?”

Natasha shadows Talia as two more guards stand by the open door. Talia sits down on the couch, crossing her legs, acting like an invited guest.

“He’s changed the furniture since the last time I was here. Eva must have picked it out.” Her gaze flicks over my outfit. “She has taste.”

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