Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (48)

“It’s all about perspective.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure. One woman’s villain is another woman’s hero.”

“Are you claiming to be mine?”

“I’m merely pointing out that two things can be true at the same time.”

“Your logic is beyond flawed and beyond sickening.”

“Everything is flawed. Even logic. You know why? Because people interpret everything and the people who do the interpreting are fundamentally flawed.”

“Are we back to discussing philosophy?” I ask. “Because I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think I can hack it today.”

“Shall we pencil it in for later then?” he asks, his voice dripping with condescension.

I want to scream. I don’t understand how he can act as though he’s the one occupying the moral high ground when I’m literally his captive.

“I can’t believe I ever thought you were charming.”

The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. His eyes widen instantly, but the fight in his expression doesn’t back down. Not by a long shot.

There’s something he wants from me.

And he hasn’t got it yet.

“You think I’m charming, is that it?”

“Thought,” I repeat vehemently. “I used the past tense, meaning I definitely no longer hold that opinion of you. And just FYI, this is what I thought six years ago, before I knew who you were. Who you really were.”

“And who is that?” he asks. He hasn’t budged from where he’s standing just inches away from me, hands still planted on either side of my face. He hasn’t stopped smirking that fucking smirk. He hasn’t stopped being totally and completely Isaak Vorobev.

“Honestly,” I say, “you are the cockiest, most arrogant man I’ve ever met in my fucking life.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is.”

“You need to become a better liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

His smirk only gets more pronounced. “Yes, kiska, you are.”

“Don’t pretend like you can read my mind.”

“I don’t have to,” he acquiesces. “I can read your face. Your body.”

I tense immediately. “I don’t know what you want from me,” I say quietly. “I don’t know what you hoped to achieve by abducting me and forcing me into this sham of a marriage. But I don’t have the power to help. And even if I did, I wouldn’t waste it on you.”

“Is that loyalty talking?” Isaak hisses. “Or love?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Call it professional curiosity.”

“You need to learn to lie better,” I say, savoring the feeling of throwing his own words back in his face. “You know what you sound like? A jealous boyfriend.”

He snorts. “I’ve never been jealous of Maxim. Not in my whole fucking life. Why do you think he’s trying so hard to take what’s mine?”

“That’s all this is then?” I ask. “A dick measuring competition?”

Isaak shrugs. “Call it whatever you want. The bottom line is I’m going to fucking win.”

“There you go again,” I say. “Win. What a joke. This is not a fucking game, Isaak, and I’m not a fucking pawn or a prize. I don’t deserve to be caught up in the middle of it.”

“And yet you are. Denial serves no purpose other than to get you killed sooner.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“I told you once before, Camila,” Isaak says, pressing against me. “I’m a dangerous man. There’s no fucking doubt about that. But I’m no danger to you. Not if you do as I say.”

My skin is tingling. Is it fear or excitement that’s causing that, though? When it comes to Isaak, I don’t know. I haven’t known since the beginning.

I shake my head. “Don’t you understand?” I say softly. “You pose the most danger to me.”

Confusion ripples across his face, but I don’t bother trying to explain. There’s too much that’s lying unsaid between us. I can already feel the tension of all the conversations we have yet to share.

“How’s that?”

“You’re the one who’s taken away my freedom.”

“Maxim was planning the exact same thing.”

“He asked me, Isaak. You never did.”

“No,” he growls. “I never ask for what I want.”

“Of course not. Because if you ask, then there’s always the possibility of a no.”

“You are not to contact Maxim,” he says instead of arguing further. His voice is low with deadly command. “Ever.”

“I deserve the right to get some closure.”

“I can give you all the closure you need.”

“You think wining and dining me is going to make me forget that I have a fiancé out there? A real fiancé?”

His eyes flash dangerously. And at that sight, I feel a flux of power I’ve had felt or had before.