Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (75)

“This evening.”

“This evening? That’s… fast.”

“Neither one of us wants to give the other a chance to plan.”

“And you’re going in alone?”

“So is he.”

She looks out ahead to the koi pond, bordered in lush, sprawling vines of ivy. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can I come with you?”

I freeze. “What?”

“I want to come with you when you meet Maxim this evening.”

“Why?”

“I… I need to see him. To talk to him.”

And just like that, I feel the existing peace between us implode. Has she been working up to this request the whole fucking conversation?

I think back, combing over every sentence, every response. It’s been an hour-long manipulation. And I fell for it hook, line, and sinker, like a goddamn fool.

“Isaak?”

I explode from my spot and leap to my feet. Cami just blinks up at me, clearly taken back by my reaction. I discard my soiled shirt on the ground and turn to face her.

“Listen,” she says, “I know how you feel about him, but—”

“But what?” I demand. “But what, Cami? You need to talk to him? You need to be with him?”

She recoils. “You realize that, since you told me who he really was, I haven’t said a word to him? He hasn’t said a word to me?”

“How long have you been planning to ask me this?”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Planning? I haven’t—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I growl. “You’re on thin ice as it is.”

“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child.”

“You are a child if you think talking to Maxim is going to solve anything.”

“And you’re a jerk if you think that I don’t need closure.”

“Closure?” I repeat, dumbfounded. “Is that what you’re claiming this is about? For fuck’s sake, at least put some effort into your lies.”

I’m pushing her into the argument she’s wanted to avoid, but I don’t give a shit. We’re having this out now. Once and for all.

“I’m claiming it because it’s true. Not that I owe you an explanation.”

“Why shouldn’t I believe this is just an excuse to reunite with him?”

“What if it is?” she demands. She jumps up to her feet. “What if you’re the villain and he’s the good guy, huh? What if you’re the one who’s full of shit and he’s been honest since the beginning?”

“What if, indeed,” I mutter dangerously. I narrow my eyes. “Tell me: that whole performance you just gave… was it just a way to manipulate me?”

She frowns in confusion. “What performance?”

“Oh, you know,” I drawl. “Rewind to fifteen minutes ago, when you begged me to fuck you until you came on my cock.”

Her eyes go wide with shock. But it’s quickly replaced with anger. Hot, burning anger so deep that her knuckles go white when she balls her hands into fists.

“You asshole,” she spits, her emotion turning the words into a sob. “You fucking asshole.”

“Oh, grow the fuck up, Camila,” I say, digging the knife in. “It all makes sense now.”

Her anger writhes on her face. I’m expecting a slap. I’m ready for it. But what I get instead is…

Tears?

That’s not right. Is the little kiska this good of an actress? Or have I misjudged things?

“Tell me you’re joking. Do you really think that the only reason I slept with you just now is to get you to agree to this?”

I meet the question with silence.

She shakes her head at me, stifling a furious sob. Her green eyes have turned the color of moss. They’re masked by a veil of tears that are only now beginning to fall.

She bites down against them, and turns her back on me. Then she starts storming up towards the manor.

And even though I want to go after her… I stay rooted in fucking place.





30





Isaak





“You okay?”

I send Lachlan a piercing glare. “Is there a reason you’re asking?”

“I’m just concerned, Isaak,” he continues, totally unaffected. “You’re about to walk, unarmed, into a meeting with your vengeful cousin who definitely wants you dead. You just seem a little… distracted, given the circumstances.”

It’s a fair question, but I resent it anyway.

“When I have I ever been distracted from a fucking job?” I snap. “When have I ever botched a mission?”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Lachlan,” Bogdan says, entering the office dressed in a bulletproof vest. “If he says he’s fine, he’s fine.”

I turn my back on both of them and slip on my own vest. Two guns and a knife rest on the desk, but I ignore all of them.

“You can conceal a knife easily enough,” Bogdan says, gesturing to the desk.

“No. I will not break my word.”