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“It might help with your condition.” “What condition?” Alex sounded bored. “Stickuptheassitis.” I’d already called the man an asshole, so what was one more insult? I might’ve imagined it, but I thought I saw his mouth twitch before he responded with a bland, “No. The condition is chronic.”
“I was in the area, and you’re Josh’s little sister. If you died, he’d be a bore to hang out with.”
“Josh has the worst taste in friends,” I bit out. “I don’t know what he sees in you. I hope that stick in your ass punctures a vital organ.” Then, because I’d been raised with manners, I added, “Thank you for the ride.”
“People see what they want to see,” I countered. “Are there awful people in the world? Yes. Do awful things happen? Yes. But wonderful people exist and wonderful things happen too, and if you focus too much on the negative, you miss all the positive.”
He flicked his gaze down. I followed it…and realized, to my abject horror, that I was touching Alex Volkov’s dick. Unintentionally, and he had on sweats, but still. I. Was. Touching. Alex. Volkov’s. Dick.
“Please remove your hand from my cock unless you plan on doing something with it,” Alex said coolly.
“So?” she prompted. “What did it feel like?” “I don’t know what you want me to say. It felt like a penis.”
“Well? What do you think?” I injected fake pep in my voice. “Good?” “You baked these.” Not a question. “Yep.” “You baked the red velvet cookies, and you baked…these.”
“Fresh air, good food. Don’t you feel happier already?” “No. There are children screaming everywhere, and a fly just landed in your salad.”
Most people thought the biggest sacrifice they could make was to die for something. They were wrong. The biggest sacrifice you could make was to live for something—to allow it to consume you and turn you into a version of yourself you didn’t recognize. Death was oblivion; life was reality, the harshest truth that had ever existed.
“You’re twenty-seven! That means you have to take twenty-seven shots.” His frown deepened. “Absolutely not.” “It was worth a try.” I grinned. “Just wanted to see if you were dumb enough to do it.”
“You miss me,” she said. My hands curled around the edge of the counter. “I do not.” “You showed up at my work and bought me a new phone because I didn’t text you for a few days.” Ava’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “I think that amounts to missing me.”
“Promise?” “I promise.”
“Maybe I like trouble.” I tightened my grip, and he hissed out a curse. “Maybe I want to stay there.” “I’m beginning to think you’re the trouble I need to stay away from,” he muttered.
Every inch of you belongs to me, and if you ever let another man touch you—” My other hand closed around her throat. “He’ll end up in pieces, and you’ll end up tied to my bed and fucked in every hole until my name is the only one you remember. Do you understand?”
And that was when I realized I was well and truly fucked. “You’re right, sweetheart,” I said, dropping my forehead to hers with a resigned sigh. So. Fucked. “But the rules don’t apply to you.”
Alex gripped my chin and brought my gaze to his. “What did I tell you? You’re mine, Sunshine. You’re never touching another man unless you want him six feet in the ground. So yes, we’re fucking exclusive.”
“Do you realize these are the first photos we have of the two of us?” I waved the Polaroids in triumph. “If you don’t hang them in your living room, I’ll be offended.” “I don’t know. You don’t match my decor,” he said in a bland tone.
Dread and shock coiled at the base of my spine and flared their wings, enveloping me in their dark embrace. “Michael Chen.” Ava shook harder. “Alex, my mom didn’t try to kill me. My dad did.”
“In this case, Father—” Josh walked in, his face darker than I’d ever seen it. “I think I’ll believe ‘the punk.’” He slammed his fist into Michael’s face, and all hell broke loose.
You are the light to my dark. Without you, I’m lost. Beautiful words that made my heart pound…but I couldn’t help noticing none of them were “I love you too.”
The man responsible for my family’s death wasn’t Michael Chen, Ava’s father. It was Ivan Volkov, my uncle.
A small, triumphant smile spread across Bridget’s face. Between her and Jules, “annoying as hell” must be a requirement for Ava’s friends.
“Because I love her!” I slammed my hands on the table. “There, happy? I love her so much I would rather give her up than hurt her. But if you think I’m letting her go to another country alone, with no protection, you’ve got another think coming. Now give me her fucking flight info.”
Something told me that if she were to get on that plane, that would change. We—or whatever was left of us—would change. And I was terrified.
“I never claimed to be Prince Charming, and my love isn’t a fairy-tale type of love. I’m a fucked-up person with fucked-up morals. I won’t write you poems or serenade you beneath the moonlight. But you are the only woman I have eyes for. Your enemies are my enemies, your friends are my friends, and if you wanted, I would burn down the world for you.”
