Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(142)

Rowan glances at me awkwardly. “You’ll probably tell me that I’m being stupid.”

“Try me.”

She hesitates for a moment, and then groans. “I just don’t trust the charming ones. The sweet, charismatic men who say exactly the right thing at exactly the right time—they terrify me.”

“Sounds like you’ve known a few.”

“My first boyfriend was… um… he got angry a lot.” Her skin has erupted in goosebumps. “Half the time, I didn’t know what set him off.”

There’s a note in her voice that snags my attention in a way I really don’t like. “Oh my God, Rowan.

Did he hit you?”

She shakes her head. “No, no, no. He threw things and he broke stuff and he yelled, but he never hit me.” She gives me a wobbly smile. “I guess my experience with men has just made me a little jaded. I actually prefer being alone.”

She doesn’t say it with the conviction of someone who really believes that, though. I can sense the loneliness in her like a bruise that won’t heal.

“There are decent men out there, Rowan,” I assure her quietly.

“Statistically speaking, that’s gotta be true, but I sure am shit at choosing them. Even the ones that seem really sweet end up being… Well, anyway.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m more scared of men than I am interested in them.”

It strikes me that even though I probably have a ton of reasons to be scared of Misha, I never have been.

“I should know why I pick the men I do,” she says softly. “But I don’t.”

I had often wondered why Clara picked Moses. It wasn’t like he had approached her. She was the one who had dragged us into the bar that night. She was the one who had approached him with her coal-smudged eyes and her overlined lips.

Is it because she knew he would be the death of her? Maybe not quite so literally, maybe not quite so viscerally, but part of her must have known that he would take away part of her and she would never, ever get it back. Maybe she wanted that. Maybe she craved it. Maybe she needed it.

Maybe I’ve made the same mistake.

“It could be that there’s something in yourself you’re trying to fix,” I suggest to Rowan, remembering that sinking feeling in my chest when I had watched Clara and Moses dancing. “And you think these guys have the solution.”

“Could be,” she agrees. “I just wish I knew what it was.”

I squeeze her hand again and for a moment, I feel like I’m squeezing Clara’s. It was just a feeling back then, but it feels so obvious now, why Clara picked Moses of all the men in the bar that night.

She wanted to self-destruct.

And I was too na?ve and stupid to see it.

“I’m always here if you need me. You know that, right?”

Rowan smiles. “Thank you, Paige. It’s been a while since I’ve had a friend I could talk to like this.”

“Me, too.” I swallow down tears.

A strange wave of emotion skitters over my skin. It’s not Clara’s presence; that’s another feeling entirely. But I’m reminded of how I felt when I was with her.

Maybe that’s what friendship feels like.

Maybe this is how it feels to move on.





110

PAIGE

“Is there anything else I can do for you before I head over to the office, Miss Paige?”

Rose stacks together all of the paperwork I just spent the last hour combing through. I’ve had a lot to catch up on after being away for a couple weeks, and Rose has been a lifesaver.

Once I managed to put aside my misplaced jealousy, I came to really like her. She is hardworking and efficient. Like me, it’s clear that she enjoys being busy. It’s hard not to root for her. Plus, the more often I see her, the less and less I think she looks like me.

“No, I think that’s it.” I flip through the files on my desk. “Oh wait—I did want to take a look at the tax return for last year. Is that here?”

“Oh, shoot. I had it on my desk at the office, but I forgot to grab them yesterday. I can swing back by here in the evening and drop the forms off.”

I wave her away. “You don’t need to do that. Just bring them in tomorrow.”

“It’s really not a problem, I promise. I’ll just stop by and drop them off for you. I don’t mind, truly.

It’s the least I can do after you loaned me your car,” she says with a shy smile.

“It’s the least I could do. I just wanted to make sure it was being used. Misha’s garage is chock full and half of them barely get touched. It’s criminal.”

Rose chuckles as she puts the paperwork in a binder and pops it into her faux leather satchel.

“Nice nails,” I say with a grin.

She laughs and waggles them, each flashing with a different color. “I have a five-year-old. She likes going crazy with the colors.”

“You have a little girl? How did I not know that? I can’t believe this hasn’t come up before!”

“Molly,” Rose tells me, beaming. “She’s amazing. Smart as a whip, too. But I guess all parents think that about their kids.”

“Which is as it should be.” I pat my stomach. “Any new mama advice for me?”