Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (111)

“You’re leaving?”

I have to resist the urge to sneer viciously. “I’m leaving,” I confirm. “I meant what I said, Camila. You think I’m manipulating your vulnerability by exploiting your attraction to me? Then I’ll stop.”

She twitches suddenly. A spasm like words are trying to force their way out of her and she won’t let them free.

“That is what you want… isn’t it?”

Her eyes go wide, and then the anger’s back. Quick as a flash. “You want me to prove you right, don’t you?” she hisses. “You want me to beg you to stay? Beg you to fuck me?”

“No one ever said anything about begging.”

“Attraction is not love.”

“I never said it was.”

“Then why do you and everyone else keep implying that I—” She cuts herself off.

“Implying what?”

“Nothing.”

“You think everyone else is trying to manipulate you, too?” I ask, leaning into her anger. “You think this is all some complex conspiracy to make you want to stay with me?”

She shakes her head. “Stop… stop talking. You’re confusing me.”

“Don’t blame me for that,” I snap. “You’re confused. Leave me out of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re fighting some sort of internal battle about who you are and what you want. A part of you wants me, but you’re just too scared to admit it.”

“And you?”

“And me what?”

“What do you want?”

I stiffen, trying to sift through the implications of that question. “We’ve been over this before, little kiska. I have what I want because I take it.”

“Like you took me.”

I laugh cruelly. “I didn’t take you anywhere, Camila. You came with me.”





42





Camila





I’m a mess. A total freaking mess.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Bree asks the moment she hears my voice on the phone. “What happened?”

“It’s Isaak.”

“Did he hurt you?” she demands immediately, her tone turning hard as flint.

“Not… I… No,” I whimper. “Not like that.”

“Jesus, Cami.”

“What?”

“That wasn’t convincing at all.”

I take a deep breath, but before I can get my thoughts together, I burst out crying. I can’t remember the last time I cried like this. Big, blubbering tears that make me feel like I’m seven years old again.

I hear Bree sigh and plop down onto their squeaky couch. “Cami, honey, I can make a call to Eric. I can tell him where you are. It’ll take him some time to get to you, but—”

“No, no,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry, that was… I feel like an idiot.”

“You wanna start the call over?”

I give a watery smile and nod.

“Are you nodding, Cami? Because you know I can’t see you, right?”

I laugh, choking on it for a moment before I finally manage to compose myself. “Sorry. Yeah, I was nodding.”

“Thought so.”

“How do you know me so well?”

“I practically raised you, remember?”

Just like that, the tears resurface again. “I know you did. And now you’re raising my child.”

“Hey now, you know I love that kid like she’s my own.”

“Of course you do. You have a remarkable capacity for love. It’s one of your superpowers.”

“Darling, you’re starting to worry me.”

“Because I’m singing your praises?”

“Because you’re acting like you called to say goodbye.”

That takes me aback for a moment, and I realize that for as much as I’m going through, Bree’s going through just as much in her own way—lingering on the outskirts, worrying about me every step of the way without being able to do anything to help.

“Oh God, no. No, of course not, Bree.”

She exhales. “Well, thank fuck for that.”

“You’ve really got a sailor’s mouth on you lately,” I observe.

“I think this current time in our lives calls for it.”

“Tell me about it.”

There’s a short pause. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Bree asks. “Does this have to do with you telling Isaak the truth?”

“No,” I say. “I haven’t told him about Jo. And I’ve decided not to.”

“Really?” Bree asks. I don’t miss the note of disappointment in her voice.

“Do you think I made a mistake?”

“How can I, when I don’t know the whole situation?” she muses. “I’m assuming you have a good reason or two.

“Yes. At least, I think so.”

“You wanna tell me what it was?”

“I can’t trust him,” I tell Bree. “And I don’t trust his world, either. He’s a Bratva don, Bree. Crazy as that is to say, the stakes are high. I don’t want Jo getting mixed up in that world.”