It wasn’t proshchay.
The promise didn’t matter right now.
I wanted him back. Desperation burned in my blood, demanding I run after him and tell him it was just a mistake. Frantically, I tugged at the IV in my hand as the heartache tore through me, sending sobs up my throat that wracked my chest.
It wasn’t proshchay.
Just as I pulled out the IV, the chaotic energy inside faded, leaving me so drained I could only cover my mouth as tears poured down my cheeks. I ignored the sharp throb in my stomach. A machine began to beep, alerting me to the fact a nurse would be in here soon, but I didn’t expect a dog.
Khaos jumped on the bed and lay down beside me. Sobbing, I ran my hand through his fur, hugged him tight, and said, “It isn’t proshchay . . .”
lacuna
(n.) a blank space; a missing part
The gunshot wound in my arm throbbed and bled through my shirt. I must have busted some stitches open when I punched Alexei. And then Albert, who simply opened the car door for me after Mila dismissed me from her life. I didn’t know how to get rid of this irritable, edgy sensation beneath my skin besides violence—and even that didn’t release the tight, hollow ache in my chest.
It felt like she was stealing something from me.
Pain I could stand.
Robbery I could not.
“I flew back for ‘important’ business just to watch you silently muse on all your life choices,” my brother said in Russian, sitting on my office couch. “Care to share?”
I didn’t know how to explain the feeling in any other way, so I sat back in my chair and said, “She stole from me.”
He raised a brow. “Your pet?”
“Her name is Mila,” I growled.
Kristian sipped the vodka in his glass, trying to conceal a smile. “So what’d she take? You do have some nice crystal glasses.”
I didn’t know why I’d opened my mouth. Clearly, all of this was out of my element, and my brother was loving every second of it. I narrowed my eyes and tapped my pen on the desk as that unsettling feeling clawed at my chest.
My brother watched me with a serious expression. “You may think I got the short end of the stick between us growing up, but you’ve forgotten you were the one living in closets for years or being beat up by our mother and her clients.”
I raised a brow. “Are we taking a trip down memory lane?”
“I think it’s time, don’t you?”
“No.”
“I may be slightly out of touch with human emotion, but at least I understand it.”
I glared at him. “I understand it just fine.”
“Coming from the man who rationalizes unrequited love for the Mikhailov girl to her stealing from you.”
Being accused of “love” made me feel . . . awkward, so I deflected. “Firstly, nothing here is unrequited.” If it was, I would make it requited. “Secondly, I’ve seen the Hallmark Channel. This isn’t how love works.”
Kristian laughed. “I thought I might have to explain sex tips to my younger brother. Not love.”
“Think I got the sex thing down, but thanks.”
Staring into his tumbler glass, he swirled the vodka in his glass. “I loved Gianna for years before she ever even looked at me. Love isn’t hearts and flowers. Sometimes, it fucking sucks.”
“You’re really selling this to me,” I said drily.
“I don’t have to sell it. You’ve already gone and fallen for Alexei Mikhailov’s daughter.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t.
“I know you blame yourself for what happened to me.” The silence was heavy. “You feel so guilty over that shit you can’t let yourself care for other people—because if you couldn’t protect your own brother, why should you deserve any other meaningful relationships? Well, you need to get the fuck over it.”
Sometimes, I hated his unnatural insight. Other times, it made things easier for me because I never would have said that shit out loud.
“I feel like I should be lying on a psychologist’s couch.”
“You do have a pile of trauma-induced emotional issues on top of that if you want me to get into them.”
I gave him a “fuck off” look.
He smiled. “If anything, I should have been there for you more. I was the older brother. I shouldn’t have left the second I was released—especially knowing now how fucked-up you are.”
“This is truly therapeutic.”
“Good. Now, you can stop hitting people and start rehearsing how you’re going to tell Mila you love her.”
I chuckled. “Unfortunately, there’s no mirror in here, and I need to see myself during rehearsals.”
“By the way, welcome to the club,” he said with relish. “I’ve been waiting for the day I could call you whipped.”
Fuck.
I’d always avoided the word “love” like it was a disease, but now he’d put the idea in my head, it festered.
All that random stuff that came out of my mouth when I thought she could die was true. I’d fought death more times than I could count, but I knew I’d welcome it if it ever came down between me or her. I’d warned her about being selfless, and now it seemed I was practically sacrificial in regard to her.
The sickly-sweet girl with a soft heart and love of yellow had somehow filled a blank space inside me. And I couldn’t handle the thought of her anywhere else but with me.
Pros: My crystal glasses were safe.
Cons: It might really be unrequited.
I didn’t get time to muse on it further. The door flew open. My brother and I silently watched Kostya drag in a severed head and throw it to the floor. It rolled like a lopsided bowling bowl before losing momentum and stilling in the center of the room.
“What the fuck is that?” I asked, exasperated. My office was already a fucking mess.
Kostya was breathing heavily, covered from head to toe in blood. It dripped from the knife in his hand to the floor. Agitation worked through me. I was going to need brand new carpet at this point.
“Dimitri Mikhailov.”
I stared at him blankly, though internally, I was a second away from killing him with that knife in his hand.
“Are you hearing impaired?” I growled. “Or just fucking stupid?”
I’d ordered my men to stay away from the Mikhailovs. The desire for revenge waned the moment Mila had almost died. Retaliation wasn’t a single option after I saw her bleeding out. I needed her in my life, alive, and without the tears that somehow made me feel powerless—which unfortunately meant I couldn’t just kidnap her again.
Killing her papa might push her away forever, and I refused to accept that. Though I couldn’t see Alexei dismissing his son’s murder. Fury washed through me at the impact it would cause. I couldn’t get Mila back while I was at war with her father.
Kostya clenched his teeth, but pain glittered in his eyes. “Dimitri was the one who killed Pasha on Alexei’s orders. And since you haven’t done anything but fuck his daughter, I took it into my own hands.”
I smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly one. I didn’t want to kill Kostya and leave Vadim with two deceased brothers, but there didn’t seem to be another option.