Page 141 of Cruel Romeo

I force myself to breathe and meet his gaze. “We need to talk.”

Petyr eyes me with no particular expression. That blankness on his face unnerves me, but I tell myself I must be imagining it. He’s never this neutral, not within the four walls of our bedroom.

Huh. Since when have I started thinking about this bedroom as “ours”?

I shake my head and make myself focus.

“The day we met, I didn’t tell you the truth,” I confess. “Or rather—Ididtell you the truth, but I didn’t mean to. And it wasn’t the full truth anyway. I…”Shit.I resist the urge to bury my face in my hands at how badly I’m fucking this up. “My name isn’t Sammi Banks. You know that, of course.”

Petyr gives me a look that cannot be translated as anything other than,No shit, Sherlock.

I do my best to ignore the shame creeping up my cheeks and go on. “But what you don’t know is that my name isn’t just Sima. It’s…”

I take a deep breath.

Now or never.

“It’s Sima Danilo.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for his response. For him to curse and yell at me. Maybe punch a wall or two.

Instead, silence follows. A thick, heavy, awful silence.

I open my eyes again. Petyr’s jaw is clenched tight, but he isn’t otherwise moving. Or speaking. He’s just staring at me, and it makes me feel exposed in a way I don’t like.

I swallow hard and decide to press on. If I’m explaining myself, I might as well do it properly.

I’ve already stepped over the edge of this cliff. No use trying to climb back up now.

All I can do is pray that he catches me. Like he promised he would.

“When I was twelve,” I begin, voice unsteady, “I ran away from home. I’d just watched my older sister be married off to some old, nasty man my father owed a favor to. I knew the same fate was coming for me, too. I couldn’t let that happen. Losing Lara was hard enough. So I ran.”

When Petyr still isn’t saying anything, I force myself to meet his gaze and continue.

“I survived any way I could. Small jobs, a fake ID so I could pass for eighteen, a new name to keep hidden. For the past twelve years, I’ve been dead to my family.”

I wring the hem of my sweater, trying to ease the ache in my chest at the memory of all that. No matter how long it’s been, the pain of losing the only home I’d ever known is still as fresh as that first night spent on the streets.

“It was a desperate plan, but… somehow, it worked. Until the wedding.”

Petyr’s jaw flexes again. It’s the only reaction I’ve got to go off on, and it doesn’t look good.

If anything, the lack of expression cuts deeper than anger would. At least anger is something I could understand. But this stillness hurts in a way I can’t name. It feels too much like indifference.

But what else can I do at this point except finish my story?

“I was afraid you’d find out.” It comes out as barely more than a whisper. “Afraid you might do something to me. But then Maksim found me. When I was out with Jemma, he saw me at the café. He realized who I was. And I figured it was only a matter of time until—” I stop abruptly. “No, that’s not right. I should have told you anyway. I wanted to tell you so many times. So many… Well. But in the end, it was survival that pushed me. Like always.”

Still nothing from Petyr. No flicker in his eyes, no twitch of his mouth. Just that solid, unreadable stare.

The silence makes my stomach roil, but I push forward anyway.

Almost done now.

“Maksim told Anatoli.” I say. “And Anatoli found me. At school, today. He said he wanted me to set up a meeting between you two. Tell you he wanted a truce.” I bite my lip, trying not to shiver. “But it was a lie. He’s planning to kill you. He told me outright. He said…” My throat closes around the words, too horrible to say, but I shove them out anyway. “He said he’s got someone working on the inside. Lev. And that he would betray you at the meeting.”

Finally—finally—something flashes in Petyr’s gaze. A sharp, dangerous edge.