Page 150 of Shutter and Sin
I stare up at the older man. He has controlled every aspect of my life since I turned twenty. I worship his power and resent his authority at the exact same time. He’s always right about these gang wars, and I hate him for his perfection.
"Is my order clear?" he repeats.
"Yes, uncle," I grumble.
"Good." He walks toward the heavy doors and pauses in the frame. "And Dato? If you ever call me a failure again, I will remind you of what I did to the last man who disrespected me. I do not care if we share blood." He casts a cold glance over his shoulder. "Your brother got his weak softness from somewhere. He didn't get it from me."
I sit alone in the wrecked sitting area minutes after my uncle leaves. Broken glass and splintered wood surround my chair. The heavy silence of the guards presses against my ears. They all just watched their boss completely fall apart.
Three days. Levan wants to wait three entire days.
Romanov is planning a massive counterattack. I can feel the danger in my bones. A heavy storm of violence is approaching our doorstep. Static electricity prickles across my skin. My little brother sits trapped in a dark basement somewhere in the city. He’s bleeding and broken. He whispers our darkest secrets to the exact man trying to destroy our empire. And I can’t do anything but wait for the clock to run out.
I lean down to pick up a sharp shard of glass from the rug, rolling the piece between my fingers and watching the ceiling light catch on the jagged edge.
Three days.
If Stanislav survives the next three days, I will storm that compound to rescue him. And then I will execute the boy myself for being so fucking weak.
Chapter 45
Zoya
"What time is it?" I mumble into the pillow.
"Early." He kisses my jaw, his dark stubble scraping my skin. "Go back to sleep."
"Hard to sleep when you're chewing on my neck."
"Is it a crime now to kiss my wife?"
I close my eyes and let him have his way for a while longer. The kisses get intense and unhurried, with his large hand cradling the side of my face. I kiss him back even with more passion. When he pulls back, his eyes hold a rare, unguarded softness.
"Good morning,Vedma."
"Good morning, Alex."
He kisses my nose before rolling out of bed to head for the bathroom. I stay under the covers and watch him walk away. The dark scars and tattoos shift under his skin with every step, the pink marks from Portugal still looking angry across his shoulder.
I drag myself up, scooping his shirt off the floor and tossing it on before heading downstairs. I just want something easy to cook,, like eggs and toast, I’m pretty sure my stomach can handle that. I dig out a skillet and turn on the heat. The butter foams, and I crack the egg over it, letting out a proud breath as the edges start to cook.
Look at me acting like a chef, I praise myself as the egg crisps up in the butter. The good mood, however, is cut short.
Alexei strolls into the kitchen just as the room fills with a haze of thick smoke. With his hair wet from the shower and dressed in fresh sweatpants, he stops in his tracks. He stares at the burning pan, looks over at me, and then looks right back atthe pan. The eggs are a ruined, blackened mess, and the toast looks like actual charcoal.
He stands frozen in the doorway. "What are you doing?"
"Cooking."
He walks over to peer into the ruined pan. "It smells... interesting?"
I thud the plastic spatula onto the marble counter. "Why did you make that sound so much like a question?"
"I didn't. It was a sincere compliment."
"Alexei, it's burnt. I can see it. You can see it. Don't gaslight me in my own kitchen."
"I'm not gaslighting you," he counters, his lips twitching into a smirk. "I'm impressed. Making burnt eggs smell edible is a real skill."
