Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(118)

“Fuck,” Anthony mumbles, his hand tightening around mine as his eyes go as wide as saucers. “Are you in love with him?”

He asks the question incredulously, as though the notion of me loving another man is completely shocking to him. And right now, I’m pissed off enough that I don’t mind admitting it.

So long as Misha’s not in the room.

“So what if I am?”

“We were together eight fuckin’ years, Paige! We built a business and a life together. And in a matter of months, you’re married to another guy? What’s wrong with you?” I shake again, but he’s still refusing to drop my hand. “I thought you married him because you didn’t have another option.

Because you had no home and no money. That’s why I came back—to give you another choice.”

“Well, aren’t you a knight in shining fucking armor?” I spit. “Give me back my hand.”

His eyes flare with surprise again, but he tempers his response. “I know you’re mad, baby. I get it—”

“You get nothing. You have to leave. Now.”

“But I can’t just leave you here with this man. Like I said, you’re not safe with him.”

“I’m pregnant!” I blurt, wanting nothing more than to shatter this moment and make Anthony disappear.

“You’re… you’re…” He looks torn between doubt and wonder. “B-but the doctor said you couldn’t get pregnant.”

“He was wrong.”

“Fuck.” His eyes narrow. “Is it mine?”

“Jesus Christ. Of course not! They’re Misha’s.”

His eyes bug out even further. “They?”

“We’re having twins,” I say, not sure why I’m telling him that part. The less he knows about my life with Misha, the better. “And if my husband finds you in here, I’m gonna have a hard time convincing him not to kill you.”

“I don’t give a shit even if he does. I just want you to be safe, Paige. Come with me. I’ll take care of you and the babies.”

I’m genuinely shocked that he’s agreeing to take on another man’s children. For just a second, it makes me question if this white knight act of his is legit or not.

No, no—of course it’s not. There’s an ulterior motive at play here. I just haven’t figured it out yet.

“Paige—”

I stop listening to him the moment I hear the subtle shoosh of the door.

Anthony has his back to the entrance. He has no clue death’s shadow is looming over him. “Baby, if you’ll just—”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Misha growls.

Anthony jerks around. He still has my hand clasped between both of his, but he takes one look at Misha and drops it. His shoulders square and he pulls himself up to full height. But his fingers are trembling and he takes an instinctive step back.

“I… You… Paige is not safe with you,” he stammers. “I’ve come to—”

“On second thought, I retract my question. I don’t give a flying fuck why you’re here. I believe I made it clear to you last time we spoke that you were not to come within a mile of my wife ever again.”

Wait. What? “Last time we spoke”?

“She almost died today,” Anthony continues. I’m impressed that he’s holding his ground in light of the expression on Misha’s face. If looks could kill, Anthony would have died a thousand deaths by now.

“I can make sure she’s safe. She’s never going to be in danger with me.”

Misha moves forward, murdering Anthony’s words on his tongue. He grabs my ex by the scruff of his collar and drags him out of my room like he weighs nothing at all.

“Paige!” Anthony yells, his feet kicking cartoonishly in the air. “Wait. I need—”

I don’t care about Anthony for a second, but I don’t want Misha going anywhere with him. I want him to stay here with me.

“Misha!” I exclaim, struggling to get out of bed.

Misha turns his darkened silver gaze on me. “Stay there,” he orders. “I’ll be back. He, on the other hand, will not.”





91

MISHA

“You’ve got balls on you, I’ll give you that,” I snarl. “More than I would’ve guessed.”

Anthony lands on the hard tile with a dull, ungainly thump of a sound that works perfectly as an overall description of him as a person.

The nurses in the ward take in the scene with mouths agape, but when they catch sight of the fury radiating off me in toxic waves, they wisely do their best to ignore us.

“Listen—”

“No.” I don’t shout, but my voice carries across to blanket every inch of the circular room. Anthony falls silent at once. “This is the part where you listen. I told you in no uncertain terms to stay away from my wife. For some reason, you thought I was joking.”

“I—”

I hold up my hand and he falls silent again. He’s made no attempt to get up off the floor. Good. He’s where he belongs. At my feet. Groveling for his miserable fucking life.

“Now, you’re going to learn why it’s important to listen the first time.”