Deceitful Lies by Brook Wilder
Chapter 28
Paige
We sleep on opposite sides of the bed, and when morning comes, Andrei leaves early while I stay in bed, blaming it lamely on the baby. Eventually, I sit by the window, gazing out at the lawn, but I don’t take anything in. My heart races as my nails bite into my palms. Yesterday when we were in bed, I thought Andrei would say it. There were moments when I thought I saw love in his eyes as he looked down on me. I wanted him to lose control and say it. I wanted him to say that he loved me, even if it was a lie.
Instead, he did everything I asked him to do. I demanded that he cross the line, and he did.
A soft tap on the door breaks me from my thoughts, and Emma slowly opens it, peering in.
“Come in,” I tell her. “Let’s talk.”
The timid look on her face is replaced by one of dread as she walks into the room.
“The maid said you were still in bed, so I came up to check on you.” Emma looks around. “I’ve never been on this floor before.” She plops down in the armchair near mine. “I wouldn’t mind being kept in here.”
I frown.
“It’s a joke, Paige.”
“Did Andrei take Viktor with him this morning?” I ask, only to confirm my suspicions.
She nods. “He …Viktor wouldn’t talk about it. Not that he should,” she hastily adds. “I don’t get into his business.”
“Emma, I should’ve stopped the two of you from getting close.”
“Not this again, Paige.” Emma rolls her eyes, fully recovered from our last talk. “I only came up here to see how you were doing.” She starts to get up.
“Sit.” I glare at her until her ass is back in her seat. “I don’t want you to get hurt. And I’m going to keep reminding you until you get it, understand?”
“I get it, Paige,” She folds her arms. “They’re dangerous people, and we aren’t. I could get hurt.”
I hold her gaze, my voice both stern and desperate at the same time. “You could die.”
Emma nervously chews on her bottom lip. “Natasha is teaching me how to shoot.”
“Do you have any idea what Natasha does?” I ask in disbelief. “She kills people, Emma. That’s her job.”
Mumbling, Emma pushes the toe of her sneaker into the rug. “I know that. Your best girl shoots people your husband wants gone.”
My temper flashes, and I throw my coffee mug at the window. The hot liquid runs down the window, but the glass doesn’t shatter. Emma stares at it and the broken mug scattered on the floor. Concern dots her eyes, but she remains silent.
Is this what I looked like yesterday?
“Do you know why the window didn’t break?” I don’t wait for a snarky response. “It’s bulletproof. This isn’t a home, Emma. It’s a fortress to keep people out as well as in. The Bratva wants something from us, and what will happen when we can’t provide it?”
Emma’s eyes are wide as she clutches the armrests of her chair tightly. “What do they want, Paige?” she whispers.
“I can’t tell you because I don’t entirely understand. I swear it, Em. But be thankful you don’t know anything. Your ignorance might be what saves you.”
Emma glances away, her breathing intense as a tear slides down her cheek. “Paige … what happened?”
“Emma.” I reach for her, but she leaps from the chair as if I’m a spider trying to trap her in its web. “Emma, I promise I’ll protect you.”
“But you can’t!” she cries out. “Who killed Mom, Paige?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I reply softly.
“Why can’t you ask your husband?” Her voice grows louder. “He must know, Paige. He has to know.”
We both jump when the bedroom door swings open, and Andrei appears. He used the secret stairs to enter our suite, something else that Emma knew nothing about. Emma and I were close once, but I feel the distance growing between us as she rushes out of the room.
I want to stop her from running to Viktor, but I freeze when I see Andrei’s disheveled state. His suit jacket is ripped, his tie is missing, and his shirt is open to his waist. He has a bruise on his cheek and blood around his lips. I hurry toward him but stop when he raises his hand.
“What happened, Andrei? Were you in a fight?” I cringe at my obvious question, but he doesn’t give me a stinging look. Andrei strides back into the bedroom, carefully removing his tattered suit jacket. The cuffs of his white shirt are smeared with blood.
“Andrei, what happened?” I plead.
But he refuses to answer while gingerly stripping off the rest of his soiled and torn clothes.
“I’m upset,” I explain desperately. “Because I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Like what? Beaten?”His gaze narrows, darkening with each word. “My opponents look worse than I do, dear. Does that make you feel better?” He pulls off his shirt, and his body is still solid and strong. His skin has a few marks, and I’m relieved that his injuries may only be superficial.
But the bitterness in his tone and his disregard for my feelings only increases my anger. “What you do affects our child, Andrei. I have a right to know what happened.”
He stops undressing and glares at me until I shiver. “Then why did you keep your pregnancy a secret from me?”
I swallow hard but don’t answer.
He scoffs. “Were you planning on leaving with my child? You know I’d never let that happen.”
My voice finds strength. “Is that why you weren’t rough with me last night? Because of the baby? It means more to you than me.”
His mouth twists into a scowl. “Our baby is important to both of us.”
I swallow hard, knowing that’s the truth. The baby is keeping us together until it is born, even if I don’t think Andrei desires anything else from me besides his stolen money and our unborn child.
“Is Viktor safe?” I ask, changing the subject.
He looks at me with a dangerous flicker in his eyes. “Are you worried I killed him?”
I vigorously shake my head, hoping he’s joking.
Andrei speaks plainly. “Igor Karamazov attended the private meeting I organized with the Novikovs. He said he was just a mediator and had nothing to do with the wedding massacre. We got into a fight after I refused to believe him.”
“That was reckless,” I tell him. “What if you had been killed?”
“Then you would be free.”
“That’s not what I want,” I reply, “not anymore.”
“Why the change of heart? Is it the baby?” He smirks. “You will be a wealthy widow if my enemies get a hold of me.”
I flinch but don’t argue with Andrei.
Let him think whatever he wants. I won’t confess how much my emotions have changed, but I’m afraid that my eager gaze gives me away. Standing in front of me in his boxers, his body is fit and powerful like a warrior, but graceful, without the overdeveloped muscles favored by most of his guards. Andrei is tight, skillful, and more dangerous because of it.
I begin to walk away from him, but then Andrei pins my body against the ensuite doorframe. His erection—hot and hard—presses against my body as his hands start tugging at my clothes.
“No,” he says. “You asked for this, and now you’ll get it.”
