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Freely.
Willingly.
Not in the vile way they had taken my sister.
I release a shaky breath, watching the three of them.
Mikhail leans back in his chair—inmychair—like he owns the goddamn room.
And now that I’ve known him for some time now, he probably thinks that he does.
Russian brat.
When Chiara turns to speak to the other twin, Mikhail flashes me that grin, the one that almost pushes me to the edge.
Hit me,it screams,I dare you.
My fist tightens, the one I’ve forced by my side so my sister won’t see it.
I’m fucking close to throwing hands with them both, and I don’t care if Chiara will hate me for it.
But when she turns away to look at me, I know I can’t.
Those eyes…Mama’s eyes…
It’s the only reason why I haven’t been more stern with all of this.
If Papa is happy with this arrangement…I’ll need to be happy with it too.
Beside Chiara, Nikolai sits there, as still as a goddamn statue.
Cold.
Calculating.
He watches me like he’s monitoring my every move, ready for me to doanythingso he can jump into action.
So he can prove himself to be thegoodguy my little sister thinks he is.
And as I look back to Chiara…I can’t lie any longer.
My little sister isglowing.
She’s sitting between these two men—these awful beings who once had eagerly taken my sister from me—and she looks happy.
Safe.
Like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.
I hate it.
I respect it.
Ihatethat Irespectit.
It doesn’t make sense—none of it does.
But they make her happy, and they keep her safe.