Page 91 of Cruel Juliet

“Nice cover story.” I shift just enough for him to glimpse the baby. “But I don’t think I’m the girl you’re here for.”

Luka’s face is so transparent that I almost burst out laughing.

He hesitates at the doorway, but eventually steps inside. His usual stiffness is gone. He looks tired, though. Unsure of himself in a way I’ve never seen before.

“Hey,” he coos quietly to the baby. He’s shoving down the biggest grin, I can just tell. “I heard she’s doing well,” he says to me.

“She’s perfect.” I lift her a little higher. “Come see.”

He moves closer and stops at the edge of the bed. When he sees her, his expression softens. “Wow.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“She’s beautiful,” he says, and I can tell he means it.

“Thank you,” I preen. “I made her myself. Not bad for my first baking project, hm?”

Luka covers his face with both hands. He’s blushing furiously. “Please, never refer to a human child as a baking product again. I won’t ever be able to get the image out of my head.”

I bite my cheek and make no promises.

Luka exhales slowly. “I need to say something. It’s overdue.”

I look up, uncertain. “What is it?”

He shifts his weight, eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry. For how I’ve treated you since you came back. I was… cruel. And I shouldn’t have been.”

“Luka… You don’t need to apologize again. We already?—”

“Let me finish. I wasn’t angry atyou,Sima. Not really.” He pauses. “Well, I was kind of pissed at you, too. But just because it’s not every day you get your nose punched in by your boss.”

“Or get locked in a closet with a belt.”

“That, too.” He inhales deeply. “I acted out towards you, but it was never you I felt hurt by.”

I’d always suspected that, deep down, Luka’s anger wasn’t anger at all. He’s way too gentle for that. His temperament is barely Bratva material. I bet giving me the silent treatment stressedhimout more than it stressed me.

“I told you the Danilos wiped out my family, but I never told you what happened. Not specifically.”

“You don’t have to,” I hurry to say.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I blamed you. I made it your business. You deserve to know what went down and how.”

My heart clenches. I hate how pained he looks. Most of all, I hate that I know exactly who’s behind that pain.

My family.

He draws in a breath. “Your father murdered mine.” He says it so matter-of-factly, it takes me a few extra seconds to process the true meaning of the words. “I was twelve. He ordered the hit over a stupid territorial dispute. My father was Bratva, loyal to his faction, but your father…” His jaw clenches. “He made it personal.” His gaze drops. “Later on, my mother hanged herself from grief, and I was left alone.”

My throat tightens.Twelve.The same age I was when I lost Lara and ran.

But Luka didn’t just see his sister get married off. He didn’t just run away from home. He saw his father die, and then his mother, and then there was no one else for him to turn to.

We’re not the same. Not by a long shot.

“Luka… I’m so sorry,” I whisper uselessly. I can’t look away. “I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” he replies. “I hated the Danilos for years. Every one of them. When I found out who you were, I thought you were just more of the same. I saw your father in you. It made me angry in ways I didn’t even understand.”