Deceitful Lies by Brook Wilder
Chapter 16
Paige
I have no idea what time it is, except it’s the middle of the night when Andrei leads me to the secret stairwell.
Cautiously, I follow down the steep circular stairs, using my hands against the brick wall to guide me in the dark. A chill of dread clings to my skin and I feel as if I’ve plunged into the darkness in Andrei’s eyes. He stops at the bottom landing and pushes the hidden door open.
A faint light enters the stairwell. A man turns to face me. With a start, I notice his hand and the missing finger. It’s the man whose death I ordered.
The way is blocked, and he reaches for me as I scream.
Strong fingers take hold of my wrist and drag me through the door. I stumble inside, and suddenly I find myself back in that dark cellar in my cage. A figure is hunched over what looks like a body on the other side of the bars. Somewhere in the dark, Talia is slicing into her enemy as he begs for mercy.
The breath hitches in my throat when she turns, but it’s not Talia.
It’s me.
Knife in my hand, I grin like a madwoman as I approach.
My eyes snap open, and I jolt upright in our bed, struggling with the sheets tangled around my legs. Bright morning light illuminates our bedroom and I look around for Andrei, but I’m alone. The time on my phone says 7:00 a.m. and I crawl out of bed. It’s better to get up than to try to go back to sleep.
The alluring aroma of coffee wafts its way into the room, a welcome distraction after a night of tossing and turning. I pull on a light cotton robe and go in search of the smell. And to my surprise, I find a small kitchen I hadn’t noticed before in his—in our—private rooms.
Hidden behind a sliding pocket door, the galley kitchen is equipped with compact stainless-steel appliances, and it contains something else equally surprising—Andrei cooking over the stove. Dressed down in jeans, he stirs oatmeal and blueberries in an enamel pot as I peek around his shoulder. He’s never done anything domesticated before, or worn anything but a suit.
He looks so ordinary, and this unusual mundanity excites me more than any of his displays of extravagance and power.
“Dmitri is taking care of business today, so I can spend the time with you,” he announces, checking on an egg-white omelet frying in a skillet.
“This is a surprise.” I smile graciously, nervous I might say the wrong thing. “Did Eva teach you how to cook?”
He nods. “She kept me close as a child whenever she could.” Andrei leaves the stove long enough to kiss me, and his gaze travels down to my still-flat belly.
But his kindness makes me nervous—it’s as if Andrei is being someone he isn’t, just to charm me. To lure me in and trap me again by being the good father he claims he can be and not the cold-hearted killer I know too well.
Maybe … I have something else that he wants.
My hands trace over my belly. He turns and flashes the knee-melting smile that leaves a silly grin on my face. When his attention returns to the stove, I stare at his slim hips and solid, shapely ass in his jeans. The thrill leaps back into my heart, snakes its way down my belly, and flutters teasingly between my legs.
A little romance is all it takes to make me doubt myself again. I wish Andrei was always like this, but it won’t last. So, why not enjoy it?
We eat in silence in the living room near a large window that overlooks the estate. The food is delicious, and my stomach doesn’t object. As I take the last bite of my breakfast, I feel compelled to say anything to encourage Andrei’s transformation to last.
“You’re actually an amazing cook.” I feel my heart race, and a nervous jitter knots my stomach.
Andrei finishes his coffee as the conversation lags again, his direct gaze interrogating me, and I turn to avoid his eyes. He pulls his chair around the small table until our knees are touching. He pauses for a moment, as if he’s choosing his words carefully.
“What are you thinking?” he asks. “What is worrying you?”
I laugh shortly. “Can I pick more than one thing?”
He doesn’t laugh at my lame attempt at a joke, and seriousness tightens his jaw. Andrei may turn back into that dark monster again, and fear surges through my body.
I have to stop it.
The words rush from my mouth, eager to keep him this way—attentive and even loving.
“I feel guilty about what happened,” I confess. “I never imagined I’d ask for something like that. I thought I was a good person, and now I don’t know what else I’m capable of.”
“Because you think you could be like me?” He looks away for a moment, as if uncomfortable with my confession.
Nodding my head, my heart breaks because he understands what I really mean. But I don’t understand why it seems to bother him more than it should. Doesn’t he want this? Doesn’t he want me to be like him? Or Talia? To be a pakhan’s wife?
“There is nothing for you to feel guilty about, Paige. Some men are evil.” He takes my hand and his tone softens. “And there is only one solution for them.”
I stare, shocked by the obvious irony. Andrei kills to maintain his power and status in the world. His whole life is based on evil. I look down, not wanting him to see my confusion. But I have to say something; my voice is barely audible.
“Aren’t you one of those men?” I ask.
Andrei pulls me into his arms, his grip tight but not painful—almost as if he’s afraid to let go. I stay in his arms, holding him until the tension in his body subsides. Finally, he pulls back to meet my desperate gaze. I need an answer.
“Aren’t you?” I whisper.
At first, he doesn’t answer me, but his thoughtful expression shows he’s not angry. Andrei takes his time to reveal his thoughts to me.
“That is what you see,” he replies. “But we live in different worlds. You live in one where people are good, decent, and lawful. I live in a world where power through any means is necessary for my survival, one where power is rarely obtained without doing evil things.”
My surprise is palpable, and I look up at him, dumbfounded by his honesty. This is the first time he hasn’t tried to hide or deflect his true feelings. I wonder how long this will last.
“Do you need power?” I ask, my voice trembling. “Can’t you want something else?”
Andrei releases his grip on me and drops his gaze. “What I do …” he says softly. “I do it out of duty, out of a need to protect those I am responsible for. I cannot survive if I act differently.”
My heart aches as Andrei reveals more of himself. I reach out and take his hand in mine, giving it a soft squeeze. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other, Andrei. You can protect someone without taking justice too far.”
“Does it bother you?” he asks, not letting go of my hand. “Being in this world? My world?”
Yesterday, I felt the immense weight of guilt when I held that awful box in my hands. Guilt pressed down on me like an invisible force, trapping me under my bad decision. It kept me from being who I really am—a good person. But at the same time, I wanted to be feared, so I did something awful to belong. To prove I could be like them—the Bratva. I hope Andrei can understand.
Smiling, I press my hand to my belly. “I want to be happy. That’s all I want in any world.”
Emma told me to accept the gifts and privileges Andrei wants to shower on me. Right now, I will take them for as long as I can.
Maybe he’ll choose to be in my world after the baby is born.
Maybe he’ll be a good father, and there will be more days like this. Maybe we’ll be happy together. But how I can make that happen is something I’ll have to figure out.
