Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder
Chapter 47
Andrei
I keep glancing over at Paige on the ride home. She looks frail from distress, as if one wrong word might break her into pieces. I say nothing as she looks out the window in silence.
Her cousin Kenney knew what I was. He also knew who I was before he asked. He just wanted to see if I had the nerve to tell him.
She sniffs as I pull into the driveway leading to the gate. I wonder if it’s a relief to be back here for her. I glance over again as she stares at the trees rushing past the window. The sunlight is swimming in her eyes, and the crystal blue shimmers like the ocean.
They’re so transparent; she cannot hide what she feels from me. She sighs again, choking back a sob. Her weakness makes me protective. I want to take her into my arms, press my mouth against her skin, and inhale her scent.
Shamefully, I feel something else. A monstrous desire stirs in my chest. I want to feel her tighten around me as I claim her. I want to turn her tears into moans. I want her to look at me helplessly while she begs for harder strokes.
I am a monster.
It’s only then that I notice her bare ears. “Where are your earrings?” I ask.
“I wasn’t going to advertise them in that bar.” She gives me a dirty look for asking, reminding me that she’s not weak—even in sadness. “They’re in my purse.”
“You should wear them,” I say.
Paige stares at me, and I can read her thoughts. Diamond earrings aren’t important now. Not compared to what she has lost.
I know she thinks it’s my fault somehow. But she doesn’t ask the question. Her mind is made up. The Rovers are parked beside us, hemming in the Lamborghini. The men wait to make sure we enter the house unharmed, but who dares to come here? I grip Paige’s arm before she can spring out of the car.
She stares into my eyes until suddenly, a large tear falls down her cheek.
“I’m sorry for what happened to your mother.” The stilted words sound insincere despite how I feel. “We will find the person.”
“No, Andrei. Let the police do their job,” she lashes out. “I don’t want any more trouble. I don’t want my family destroyed by the Bratva. By you.”
“Paige, I can handle this.”
She wavers between tears and curses, and finally, she breaks.
She slumps against the car seat and covers her face with her hands. I reach for her and pull her against me. I can kill a man with my bare hands, but can I do this? Can I tell her how much I feel? How sorry I am for her pain?
Paige clings to me, pressing her face against my chest as she cries. Maybe I won’t have to speak? But I know better. I’m not off the hook. Paige was only supposed to be a means to an end, but now she’s worth more than the stolen money to me. She can never find out why she is here.
Her arms wrap around my neck, and she brushes her cheek against my chin.
“Please don’t make this any worse,” she finally whispers, her voice soft and trembling.
It’s effortless for her to share her emotions, but I can’t indulge in this behavior after what has happened. I saw the picture of her mother’s corpse. It wasn’t a botched robbery. It was a message. They know they can’t touch me, but they can hurt me through her.
And to touch her now, knowing that … She’d hate me more for tricking her. And yet, the brush of her lips ignites something in me. I feel a familiar heaviness settle past my stomach into my core.
Desire. Lust.
I am a monster.
I pull her arms off my shoulders. “Let’s go inside, so you can lie down.”
Paige bites her lips, the lips I want to kiss desperately. “Will you stay?”
“I will.” I nod. “For as long as you need me to.”
“Is this how it feels to lose someone you care about?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “And I don’t want to find out.”
Paige looks at me with an unreadable expression, and maybe I should say it. Apologize for the role that I have in her loss. But I can’t. My ego overrules my heart. I quickly step out of the car. Oleg is standing by, and I motion him forward. He helps Paige out of the car. Will they laugh if they know I am afraid to touch her? Why am I afraid? I’ve already ruined her.
I watch as she clings to Oleg’s hand, and instantly jealousy stabs me hard. The way she holds him, innocent and caring, as if they’re lovers—a love not tainted with greed and revenge.
I stride over and pull Paige from his grasp like a beast ripping them apart. I lift her into my arms and carry her into the house. With each step, I remind myself that her reaction to the death of a parent will never be the same as mine.
My father’s death left me an empire. Her mother’s death left her a shell of herself.
Her father’s death will leave her an orphan.
Paige’s hand grabs the lapels of my jacket, and with each step, I grow more enraged. Whoever did this will pay—painfully and slowly. This won’t go unpunished. I walk past our bedroom door and enter the secret stairwell.
In my private suite, I gently lay her down on the bed, but Paige doesn’t loosen her grip on my jacket. I pull her hand off, and she gazes at me, hurt and lost. I take off my holster and disappear into the closet. When I reenter the room, Paige is sitting up and looking around.
“I always wondered where you disappeared to.”
I sit beside her, looking around the sparsely furnished room and wondering what she thinks. The room is decorated in a modern industrial style with only a few pieces of furniture. A TV I rarely watch faces the bed. It’s the first time I’ve noticed there are no photos in this room, not even of Mother.
I brush my hand over Paige’s soft, tearstained cheek, and she closes her eyes. Innocence is what I always see in Paige. I want her to stay that way. She’s not a Bratva wife, but she is mine. For that, I will protect her from what I am.
Paige forces a slight smile that crumbles on her lips as she reaches for me, whimpering. I pull her toward me, and she rests her head on my lap. I stroke her hair as she softly cries herself to sleep. I’m thankful Paige doesn’t demand more of me. She’s not who I expected because I assumed good women were a myth—an act to trap a clueless man.
She’s a rare find—a woman who doesn’t play games or have an ulterior motive. I found a woman who only wants to be wanted for being herself, and that’s strange to me. I look down at Paige’s face as she drifts off to sleep, her cheeks pink and her lips parted. But the stained line of tears on her face remains.
In her sleep, she mumbles something and her hand tightens around mine ever so softly. Her lower lip trembles, and I remain seated next to her.
Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into hours. I know I should get up, but I don’t. My eyes are fixed on the stained lines marring her face, and my mind churns with a desire for revenge.
Igor Karamazov made a lethal mistake going after Cynthia Reyes.
And in response, I will show him neither pity nor mercy.
