I swallow, my heart jackhammering in my throat, but I refuse to show it. I refuse to show that he scares the shit out of me, that whenever I see his face, it’s not his handsome looks that greet me, it’s a devil in disguise.
So I inhale for a few more seconds. “Shouldn’t you be with them? This whole fight is about you.”
“Nah. It’s not a real fight, so I’m not interested. Sergei started this mess and he can sort it out himself.”
“I thought you wanted to marry the Japanese girl,” I try in a softer tone.
“Nope, Rai and that fucker Kirill arranged it for some diplomatic Yakuza-Bratva shit. I couldn’t care less.”
“Won’t she be sad that you’re breaking off the engagement?”
“Why the fuck would she? We haven’t even met.”
Damn it.
I foolishly hoped there would be some form of attachment between them, that I could get in touch with her and come up with a plan to break off this engagement, but if they’re strangers, I have no hope there.
What was I thinking, anyway? This brute is not the type to get attached to anyone or anything.
“Besides, I’m allergic to anyone who doesn’t drink vodka.” He grins, clinking his glass against mine. “At least you do.”
“I don’t love you, Damien,” I murmur slowly. “I don’t want to marry you.”
“Love?” He appears genuinely perplexed. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“What Rai and Kyle have.” I motion at them, then at Adrian’s wife, who’s talking with her husband’s guard, but her attention is firmly on where he disappeared to with Papa and the others. “What Adrian and Lia have.”
“You mean marriage.”
“No. Love and marriage are different. Love is when you can’t breathe when the other isn’t there. It’s when living becomes a chore, and waking up every day is an accomplishment. It’s when you can’t stop thinking about them and need them close so you can finally exist.”
“Sounds like a fucking hindrance.”
“It’s not. Damien…please…I want to be with the man I love.”
“Fine.”
I pause, my lips parting. “R-really?”
“I told you, Nastyusha, you have time to ruin this marriage before it happens.”
“But if you tell Papa you don’t want to marry me…”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not going to get on the Pakhan’s bad side for this. It’s your mess. Clean it up yourself.”
“Do you want to marry me?”
“Not particularly. I keep saying that I’m not husband material, but everyone refuses to believe me, so if I have to go through with this, it’ll be with the Pakhan’s blessings. And also…”
He trails off, his gaze getting lost, and for a second, a fraction even, I see a spark in his usually dead eyes. It’s a fire so hot that it nearly burns me, and it’s not even directed at me.
I follow his field of vision and catch a glimpse of a petite Asian girl who’s probably my age or younger.
She’s wearing a simple black dress and heels that match her hair and eyes and contrast against her pale skin. Two Asian men in suits stand on either side of her as she carries a plate of pastries.
The moment her gaze meets Damien’s, she freezes, as if the fire in his eyes could burn her from this distance.
Then she places the plate on the table, turns around, and leaves with a feather-like grace. The men follow after her, clicking their earpieces.
Are they from the Chinese triads? Or maybe the Yakuza?
I don’t get a chance to think about it further, because Damien pushes his glass of vodka into my free hand. The fire that ignited in his eyes a moment ago is now pitch-black and seems darker than I’ve ever seen.
Even more than when he kills people.
“Hold this for me,” he says in a calm yet charged tone, then he strides in the direction where the Asian girl just disappeared to.
Oh, well.
Is it wrong to hope that she’s Abe’s daughter and he changed his mind? I feel bad for the girl, but I also can’t marry Damien.
I feel like I might die.
Opting to get some air, I abandon the two glasses of vodka on the nearest table and go out to the balcony.
I let the cold night air wash over me. Goosebumps pop up on my bare arms and I welcome the shiver.
I tried to avoid getting dolled up today, but all I have are cocktail dresses and beautiful flowery ones, so that wasn’t really possible. I opted for a knee-length one that matches the eyes I’ve been continuously dreaming about.
Blowing out a puff of air, I retrieve my phone from my dress pocket. It’s a new one Papa got for me, where only his, Rai’s, Vladimir’s, and Damien’s numbers are saved.
It doesn’t matter, though, because I memorized not only his number but also two others I probably shouldn’t have.
I type one of them. No clue if it’s the stress of the inevitable or the longing I’ve felt for the week and a half I haven’t seen Knox. Not directly, at least, because I keep stalking him all over the media.
But I don’t think about it as I hit Call. My heart thumps loudly in my ears as I listen to it ring. Is it too late to hang up and pretend this call never happened?
As I’m about to do that, the distinctive sound of someone picking up greets me, followed by a serious female, “Hello?”
“Hi. It’s me, Teal. Jane.”
There’s a long silence at the other end of the line, so long that my breathing thickens. I expected this reaction, but ever since Papa laid out her and Knox’s past in front of me, I couldn’t help feeling the need to talk to her.
Maybe I sensed this all along, which is why I memorized her and Elsa’s phone numbers. We exchanged them that one time we met, and Elsa might have forced Teal to do it. Before I changed phone numbers, Elsa used to send me good mornings and hellos and we chatted sometimes, but this is my first contact with Teal.
“This isn’t your number,” she says finally.
“I changed it.”
“Okay.”
I gulp again. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed about Teal, it’s her no-nonsense personality, so she’d expect me to get to the point soon.
“Listen, Teal…I…I’m sorry.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“He told you?” There’s a tiny softness in her voice.
“Not exactly…”
“I knew he would.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. He looks at you differently. Almost like the way Ronan looks at me, and let’s just say I never expected to see that expression on my aimless brother’s face.”
“Teal…”
“So, what now? You feel sorry for us?”
“No. Of course…I…understand, or I hope I do. My childhood wasn’t a colorful one either since I was raised by an abusive father.” I pause, then blurt, “That doesn’t mean that I’m downplaying what you went through. I know it’s much more serious, and you guys are way more stronger than me. I called my biological father for help, but you found it on your own, and I guess what I’m trying to say is that I respect that. So much.”
There’s a pause before she says in a less defensive tone, “So you don’t pity us?”
“Absolutely not. I just…just want to hug him and you…and I’m not much of a hugger. Besides, I have a feeling you’re not either. But yeah, I don’t pity you.”
“Good, because I wouldn’t let anyone make my brother feel less than what he is. He deserves better.” Her voice lowers, and I think it breaks when she says, “He deserves the world for how he stood up for both of us.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know. And even if you did, it’s only his side of the story in which he must’ve made his role seem miniscule.”
“There’s another side?”
“Yes. Mine. What happened to us back then was…bad. It was so bad that we both consider it our lives’ black holes. But I was able to escape it at a younger age. Knox hasn’t. He buried it inside and thought it would magically heal, which is never the case. If anything, it will fester and become worse as the years go by. But do you know when the first time he allowed himself to be open, even a little, was? It was with you, and I could feel it, even if he doesn’t talk about it, even if he still considers himself my protector and wants to shield me from pain. I know I haven’t really been welcoming of you, but it takes me some time to warm up to people, so if you want, if you can, maybe we can meet sometimes?”
“I’m sorry, Teal.” My voice is brittle, wrong.