Lies of My Monster (Monster Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

A foul taste explodes in my mouth at that thought.

Lover.

I should fucking kill her for betraying me, but that’s just too light a punishment. She has to wake up every day and fall asleep every night tasting the bitter pill I’ve been surviving on ever since I woke up in the hospital.

With another flick of my finger, I destroy the half-built house of cards and stand up.

My physical strength has been slowly coming back, but I still have to be careful or else I’ll suffer a longer recovery period, and that’s just not something I need.

I step out of the office and go down the stairs.

“Kirill!” Karina catches up to me halfway to the entrance and interlinks her arm with mine.

She’s been joining me for my daily walks around the garden ever since I was able to start getting around.

Now, I only do them because she actually willingly leaves her room, usually dressed in some princess dress and boots, as if she’s going to a fashion show.

I don’t like the way some of my men look at her, which is why I had Viktor threaten to gouge their eyes out of their sockets if they ogle her again.

What? My sister is still too young.

She’s the same age as Lipovsky and you’ve been fucking her regularly for almost a year.

I shut down that sinister voice as a muscle works in my jaw.

“Are you better today?” Karina asks in a super cheerful voice that’s a reminder of her younger self. It’s reminiscent of a time when she either rode on my shoulders or hung onto my and Konstantin’s pants.

She used to ask him to carry her, too, but after she was yelled at by Yulia for being a spoiled brat, she’s never done it again.

“I’m fine.”

“You look so much better.” She strokes the stubble on my cheek and grins. “I like this look.”

“Should I keep it?”

“Yes! I’m going to get you the best suit that goes well with this look so when you get back out there, people will think you’re a model, because, duh, you totally are—” Her humor disappears as Yulia comes inside the mansion, followed by her ‘only’ son.

Karina subtly cowers behind me, her hand gripping my bicep hard. That woman not only failed as a mother, but she also made her own daughter scared and wary of her—for reasons unknown.

She lifts her head high like an arrogant monarch and doesn’t speak to us as she passes us by. It’s almost as if we don’t exist.

“It was nice to see you by my bedside, Mother,” I say out of pure spite.

She whirls around and narrows her eyes. “Oh, I was by your bedside, but only to make sure you finally died. I even prepared a funeral dress for the occasion. Unfortunately, you survived like the devil.”

“Aww, were you worried about me? I’m so touched.”

“Worried about you?” She laughs, the sound so venomous that even Konstantin cringes. “You are nothing to me, Kirill. Nothing.”

“Glad we feel the same.” I step closer to her, and Karina tightens her grip around me. “Since we mean nothing to each other, I’m happy to inform you that I have allies in your bank, dear Mama. Your own brothers and sisters prefer me in business matters. After all, I’m part of their family, too, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise.”

“You—” She lifts her hand, probably to slap me. Karina forces her eyes closed, but the hit doesn’t come.

Konstantin grabs that hand and interlinks his arm with hers as he leads her to the stairs. “Don’t waste your breath on the likes of him, Mother. I will talk to my aunts and uncles…”

He continues offering vague consolations and everything someone like Yulia wants to hear. Before they disappear up the stairs, he subtly casts a look in my direction.

It’s brief, almost unnoticeable, but there’s that soft edge of my little brother who always tried to shield me and Karina from his mother’s toxic favoritism.

That side of Konstantin was supposed to be long dead, so why the fuck—

“Did you see that? Did you see that?” Karina asks with contagious excitement. “Kosta stopped her for us!”

“Don’t be so sure. He’s too far up his own ass to do anything for us.”

She swats me on the shoulder. “Don’t talk like that. He was really worried about you when you got shot and visited every day. Well, every day until you woke up, because he knew you’d be an asshole if you saw him.”

“He was probably spying for Yulia.”

“Stop it, Kirill. Just stop it. If you’re suspicious of people all the time, how are you ever going to be happy?”

What the fuck is happy?

Maybe happiness is reaching the top. Being so far above people that they fall and splinter to pieces if they ever attempt to get near me.

I don’t answer Karina, though, as we step out of the house. She’s about to tell me about a book she’s reading—which is usually what she talks about with this much enthusiasm—but stops herself when we’re faced with a small commotion.

My jaw clenches, and my wound burns as I stare at none other than Lipovsky. She’s standing by the main entrance wearing a dark gray suit and a blue button-down. Her hair is styled back, and her expression is solemn, cold, and, most of all, determined.

I want to grab her by the throat like I did over a week ago when she dared to demand to talk to me.