Chapter 23
629 Words
23Lucas
Yulia’s eyes are enormous as she stares at me, her slender wrist caught in my grasp. She looks like I just tore her heart out, and something resembling regret cools the burning fog of rage surrounding me.
Releasing her wrist, I say in a calmer tone, “Yulia, that’s not what I—”
“Why don’t you just do it right now?” she interrupts, her gaze unflinching as she steps back. “Go ahead, kill me. You will anyway. When I’m no longer such a ‘hot lay,’ right?”
“No, of course not.” My anger returns, only this time it’s directed at myself. “I told you—you’re safe with me.”
“Not if your boss wants me dead.” Her upper lip curls. “Isn’t that what you just told me?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I curse myself ten ways to Sunday. Esguerra seemed as good of an excuse as any to stop her from pleading for her lover, but I should’ve realized how Yulia would interpret my words. “I promised you I’ll protect you, and I’m going to keep that promise.”
“Then why can’t you protect him?” Her gaze fills with desperate hope as she comes toward me again. “Please, Lucas. He’s an innocent—”
“Stop.” I refuse to hear her beg for him. “I don’t give a f**k about his guilt or innocence. I told you—one person only. That’s the deal.”
I expect Yulia to back down then, to accept that she lost, but she lifts her chin instead, her eyes like blue coals in her starkly pale face. “Then spare him. I want Misha to be that person, not me.”
Misha. I file that name away even as my ribcage tightens with renewed fury.
She’s ready to die for him—for her weakling of a lover.
“What you want doesn’t matter.” My words are as caustic as the jealousy burning my chest. “I decide who lives, not you.”
She reacts like I just struck her. Her lips quiver, and she backs away, folding her arms around her middle.
“Yulia.” I come after her, her pain cutting me like a blade, but she turns away to face the window as I approach. I lift my hand to lay it on her shoulder, but change my mind at the last moment. There’s nothing I can do to make her feel better, except the one thing I’m not willing to promise.
I want this Misha dead, and I won’t let her manipulate me into sparing his life.
Lowering my hand, I step back and survey Yulia’s rigid figure. My captive is even more gorgeous than usual today, her short white dress making her look innocently sexy. With her hair streaming down her back in a sleek waterfall, she’s temptation personified—and I know it’s on purpose.
Like everything else Yulia has done over the last couple of days, her dressing up today is an attempt to save her lover.
The thought fills me with bitter anger. Turning away, I pack up the remainder of the meal and wash the dishes, using the time to cool down. Yulia doesn’t move from her spot by the window, and when I approach, I see she’s still deathly pale, her gaze distant and unseeing.
Steeling myself against an irrational urge to console her, I reach out to take her arm. “Let’s go. ” My voice is quiet. “I have to tie you up.”
And holding her arm tightly, I lead Yulia to the library.
She doesn’t say a word as I secure her in the armchair, making sure the ropes don’t cut into her skin. When I’m done, I step back and look at her. “Which book do you want?”
She doesn’t respond, her gaze trained on her lap.
“Yulia. I asked you a f*****g question.”
She glances up, her eyes dulled with pain.
“What do you want to read?” I repeat, trying not to let her obvious distress get to me. “Which book?”
She looks away, but not before I catch a glimmer of moisture in her eyes.
Fuck.
“All right, suit yourself.” I grab a random thriller off the shelves and place it on her lap. “I’ll be back before dinner.”
Yulia doesn’t acknowledge my words in any way, and I leave before the fury simmering inside me boils over.
- Writer
