Page 42 of Cruel Juliet

“I know when I’m being lied to. And she isn’t lying about this.”

Kira doesn’t look particularly swayed. “You’re betting everything on a woman who has every reason to trick you. That’s not your style, Petyr.”

“I’ll make sure,” I growl back over the agreement of my own doubts.

“How?”

“I don’t know yet. But I’ll find out. I won’t take her at her word. I’ll know the truth myself.”

Kira studies me for a beat longer, then nods slowly. “Good. You should. You can’t afford to be tricked again.”

She gathers her coat and leaves me alone in the office, but her voice echoes long after she’s gone.

I sit there, staring at the empty chair, and admit to myself what I didn’t want to say out loud: She’s right. My bloodline is too important to take Sima’s word for it. I can’t afford to be wrong about this.

I’ll make damn sure I’m not.

18

SIMA

The breakfast tray sits on the table by the window. Eggs, toast, fruit, tea. I try to make myself eat, but the fork feels heavy in my hand. My stomach turns with every bite I force down.

It’s not the food. It’s the memory.

The kiss.

I told myself I’d never let him touch me like that again. But the second his lips brushed mine, all of that resolve crumbled.

I know it was a mistake. A huge one. Letting him pull me back into that fire only tangled me deeper in the mess I swore I’d escaped.

And yet, I can’t deny what it did to me. Turns out the Sima that once wanted Petyr never really stopped wanting him.

I push the fork aside and wrap my arms around myself. The morning light catches the edges of the curtains, soft and gold, but it doesn’t warm me. I shiver anyway.

Because I remember him the way he used to be. The man who could be gentle when he wanted. The husband who made me think, for one reckless heartbeat, that we might have a future.

That Petyr is buried now under layers of anger and ice. He’s cold, calculating. Cruel when it hurts most.

But sometimes, I see him again, in flashes. Just enough to give me hope, then rip it all away.

I pick at the corner of the toast and crumble it between my fingers. My chest aches. The silence presses in. I wish I could talk to Lara, to tell her how badly I’ve screwed up, how desperately I need someone to remind me who I am. I want to see my sister’s face instead of the memory of Petyr’s eyes in the firelight.

I push the tray away. The food’s gone cold, but it isn’t why I can’t eat. It’s him. Always him. No matter how far I run or how hard I try to cut him out, he’s under my skin.

And last night proved he always will be.

My line of thought breaks when I hear the lock rattling. Seconds later, the door slams open so fast the tray trembles on the table.

I jolt. My hands fly to my lap as Petyr strides inside without knocking.

“Petyr, what the hell?—?”

“I’ve scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you.” Those are the first words out of his mouth. I’m not expecting “hello” or “how do you do” or even “sorry for running off on you last night,” but surely alittlebit of manners wouldn’t kill him. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll be going with you.”

I sit up straighter. Confusion fills my head. So close to my due date, I’m not against the idea. But…

“Why are you suddenly so interested in going with me?”