Page 61 of Savage Beauty

I’m angry. Very angry. But I love him. And I can’t walk away from him now. Not when I know the real Sasha—strong, decisive, terrifying, intelligent. He’ll find a way through this if he has the incentive. And the baby and I are more than enough motivation.

“I’m not going,” I say.

Sasha’s brow furrows, and he does his best to give me a cold glare, but I see his eyes light with hope. “You promised you’d go,” he murmurs. “Why would you stay, knowing what you know?”

“Because I love you, Sasha.”

It’s true, and he needs to hear it now more than ever. He has to find his mettle and push back against this disaster. Lives now depend on Sasha doing what he does best—exerting his dominance and coming out on top.

He stands and comes to me, wrapping me in his arms. The familiar scent of his skin overwhelms me, and the tears begin in earnest. I bury my face in his shirt, and he cradles my head to his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “What the fuck am I gonna do?”

“You’re gonna find a way out of this mess,” I say. “No, let me rephrase—weare.”

41

Sasha

I’m numb with shock, and I cling to Josie’s hand as we head for the parking lot. It’s as though she might vanish into thin air if I let her go. She allows me to hold onto her, but I feel her fury in the air between us like a gathering storm.

“So what now?” she asks as I open the passenger door for her.

“I need time to think.” I get into the driver’s seat and start the engine. “As far as Igor is concerned, you and I are under his thumb and awaiting his instructions. I don’t know if anyone is spying on us, but when we get home, I will have to call him and let him know I’ve done what he said.”

“I can’t believe it’s come to this.” She gives a hollow laugh. “It’s kind of ironic. You told me it was up to me whether I stayed with you, only to send me away, run after me, try to send me away again…talk about blowing hot and cold!”

The bite in her tone is undeniable, and of course, she’s right. But her bitter anger is nothing compared to the heat of her presence. She burns even brighter now, fueled by indignation and raw courage. What kind of woman comes back to stand at her man’s side in the face of life-threatening danger?

My wife.

I’m lost in admiration for Josie’s sheer moxie. I have to justify the risk she’s taken by staying with me. Is there anything I can do? Anyone I can leverage?

My thoughts refuse to go where I want them to. Instead, my mind is awash with slivers of memory, catching the light like splinters of broken mirror.

Piccolo cuoco. Vlad remembers Mama calling me that nickname, and now, so do I.

I can see myself in the kitchen of our home. I must be young, as I can’t see over the countertop, and Mama has to stand me on a stool. She got me a chef’s toque, the pleated hat I’d seen cooks wearing when we visited restaurants, and I’m wearing it with pride. She’s showing me how to roll fresh pasta dough on a ribbed board to make pieces of fusilli.

I blink hard, trying to clear my head. I don’t wanna remember her, not now. Not when I’ve ruined everything.

Mama is laughing, ruffling my hair to get the flour out. “Ah, my Sasha!” she says. “You get your hair from the Italian side of the family. Never cut it short!” She takes my cheeks in her hands and kisses me. “Ti amo, caro figlio. I love you.”

My eyes are stinging badly. I want to punch somebody, smash something to shit, or scream until I throw up. Maybe all three.

Vlad had more of our mother’s attention, but that was because she was at war with our father for Vlad’s soul. He wanted his oldest son to be a brutish sociopath like him; she knew her boy was better than that, and she fought for him. It doesn’t mean she didn’t love me.

I miss her.I miss her every day, and in the many years since her death, I kept my heart buried beside her, not willing to be hurt again. It seems insane to just lie down and play dead in the face of treachery. Mama would expect me to do what I can for my family, and that’s what I’ve done so far. I got them to safety, far from here. Now, I need to work out how to bring them back.

I can’t let people believe I’m like my father. No fucking way. He hurt me my whole life, and he murdered my best friend—

“Ohfuck!” I cry. I slam on the brakes and sling a right.

“What?” Josie stares at me as my body floods with panic. “What’s the matter?”

“I forgot about Signora G. We gotta go to her.”

“Do you think Igor will do something to her?” Josie asks.

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