Page 56 of Beautiful Ruin

Power has made monsters out of men like Ivan Kuznetsov. But does that mean that is what has happened in this scenario?

The longer I stare at Sofia, the more anger rises to the surface in her eyes. It is clear to me that all of this is a culmination of her lashing out at the wrong, though most conveniently available, target.

None of that is lost on me no matter how tempting it may be to put her right back in her place. She is frightened and being haunted by ghosts that have suddenly risen from the ashes of their graves to hunt her down. Her father’s words have reached into the deepest wound inside her and twisted until she no longer knows where the pain is coming from.

She wants someone to blame.

Ivan is the mountain in the far distance, and I am the nearest cliff face.

I know.

I know this.

So why does it hurt so badly?

She lets out a slow breath. “If you’d just talk to him, Rowan, you would see it for yourself.”

“I said no. The answer will always be no. You can tell me that a thousand times and that answer will never change.”

“Why?” she hisses, stepping forward and pushing at my chest.

I barely move, but the contact burns. It lands too close to the memory of her hands on me earlier when her body trembled beneath mine. I’m brought back to the impossible softness of her mouth on mine and the way she looked at me after coming with too much trust in her eyes as she slowly drifted to sleep.

Everything about this feels inverted now. The same hands that clung now aim to hurt. The same mouth that gasped my name now throws accusations hard enough to gut me.

“Because he is dangerous and you are not seeing that,” I growl at her.

Her laugh is short and furious. “I am surrounded by dangerous men.”

“This is different.”

“Why?” she challenges. “Because he calls himself my father?”

“Because he wants something from you.”

“You all do in one way or another.”

I go still.

Sofia sees it instantly, assessing it for what it is. Even angry and hurt, she is still able to watch me close enough to see when the fractures in my armor begin to show.

“Everyone wants something from me. Ivan wants obedience, you want me contained. My dad wants…” She falters, trying to come up with something. “I don’t know what he wants. But at least he’s willing to speak to me and give me answers.”

“Again, that’s different.”

She huffs at me before collecting her laptop and her clothes off the floor, keeping my T-shirt on as she storms across the room toward the door.

“Sofia,” I growl. “Come back here.”

She doesn’t stop, completely ignoring me.

“Do not walk out that door.”

I fight the urge to get up and stop her.

I could very easily grab her by her waist and turn her back around, make her face me so she can understand that leaving like this is another kind of fracture. But the thought of physically stopping her after everything, after accusing Dmitri Orlov of using her and Ivan of controlling her and me following those exact orders, turns my stomach.

I do not want to become another man who proves her right.