Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(73)

Out loud, I say, “Maybe I don’t.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t believe that. That’s just what you want me to think. It’s what you want everyone to think.”

“Why would I lie?”

She leans in, voice low, and says, “Because if you share your heart, you just might lose it.”

Then she storms out, those haunting words ringing in my ears.





54

PAIGE

The garage is quiet the next morning when I tiptoe out of the house ten minutes ahead of schedule.

It’s not that I’m completely against Konstantin being my bodyguard; I just need some space. And, okay, maybe I’m in the mood for rebellion.

The keys jingle loudly as I swipe them off the key caddy, but no one seems to be coming after me. I manage to get into my little Volvo and open the garage door before Sanka pokes his head out of the door that connects the garage to the rest of the house.

Like a good soldier, he tries to get in front of the car before I can take off. But he’s too slow. I gun it, peeling out of the garage and racing through the gates before he can close them.

“Ha!” I say triumphantly. “Take that, Misha.”

Seconds later, my phone starts ringing. I answer it through the car’s Bluetooth. “Good morning.”

“‘Good morning,’ my ass. You ditched me!” Konstantin complains. “It’s not even six-thirty. Do you know how much trouble I’m going to get in for this?”

“Calm down. I’ll be at Orion in fifteen minutes or so. A solo drive is hardly going to kill me.”

“But not following Misha’s orders might kill me.”

I wave a dismissive hand, even though he can’t see it. “He won’t kill you. Maybe he doesn’t admit it, but I think he likes you. Besides, you’re in the clear; I’m the one not following orders. He’ll be mad at me.”

“Is something going on between the two of you?”

“‘Something’?” I ask facetiously. “No, I’m just his wife and the mother of his child. But nothing is going on between us. We’re not friends or partners. I’m just the woman he’s using to tick all his boxes.”

I press on the gas a little harder, flying down the straightaway in an effort to leave my worries behind.

Konstantin groans. “This is why I don’t want to get in the middle of this mess. You two need to work this out in therapy. Until then, come back and pick me up!”

“No.”

“What the hell am I supposed to tell Misha?” he barks.

I tap the brakes as I near a bend in the road. “You can tell your cousin that…”

My voice trails off as I tap the brakes again. And again.

But nothing happens.

“What?” Konstantin asks.

“Oh God,” I gasp.

“Paige! What’s going on?”

The brake pedal is all the way down to the floor, but the car isn’t slowing down.

“Oh fuck. Fuck.” I follow the curve of the road, but I feel the car tilt dangerously on one side.

“My brakes! They aren’t—I can’t stop!”

My heart is thundering in my chest. It’s not helped by the fact that I’m coming up way too fast on a busy intersection. If I can’t stop the car, I’m going to crash. Maybe even kill someone. Maybe even myself.

Maybe even my baby.

Konstantin curses. “Turn around. Drive back to the house. I’ll get something to—Fuck, I don’t know.

Crash into the gates.”

I want to tell him there isn’t enough time. There are no roads for me to turn around. The next intersection is packed with early morning commuters.

“Paige!” Konstantin yells, trying to get my attention.

But I need all of my focus for what is coming next. There is only one option.

I twist the wheel to the right and drive directly into a lamppost on the side of the street.

The impact is a flurry of crunching metal, the explosion of the airbag, and shattering glass. Smoke swirls out from the engine in big clouds.

“Holy hell, what happened?” Konstantin roars. Somehow, the car’s Bluetooth is still playing his voice through the speakers. “Are you alright? Talk to me! Paige!”

I take stock of my body. I can move my arms and legs, I’m conscious, I can still breathe. Still, it takes me a moment to find my voice. “I… I think I’m okay. I crashed into a lamppost. The brakes weren’t working.”

“Don’t move,” he orders. “I’ll be right there.”

The line goes dead.

I try to push the airbag out of my face so I can remove my seat belt, but the battered cabin of the car around me makes it difficult to do anything. The door is jammed, and no matter how hard I push, I can’t seem to wedge it open.

Suddenly, a man appears through the shattered window of my door. He’s dressed in Spandex with a workout band around his bicep.

“I was running and I saw you—” He shakes his head. “That was crazy. Ma’am, are you alright?”

“The—the door is jammed.” Saying the words out loud breaks something loose inside of me. My throat clogs with tears, and I have to swallow back the panic.

The man starts pulling on the door, and I push with my shoulder as hard as I can. Between the two of us, we manage to pry the ruined metal open. He takes my hand and helps me out on shaky legs.