Page 62 of Cruel Romeo

Ivan steps in between us to silence Mikhael before he says more shit he’ll come to regret.

“Find the truck,” I order as Ivan helps Mikhael up. “No more excuses. I want those weapons, and I want them yesterday.”

“Yes,pakhan,” Lev says from the door.

Trust him to be the only one smart enough to keep thirty feet away from the drama.

I stride out and go back to my car. As the wind whips my face, I remind myself of what really matters: finding those weapons, securing my position, and stomping down the ambition of rowdy upstarts like Mikhael.

Nowhere on the list is there room for Sima’s name.

25

SIMA

When I wake up, Petyr isn’t next to me.

It takes a beat before my brain catches up. I feel the other side of the bed, but the sheets are smooth. Cold, untouched. He must not have come back at all.

I don’t know why the thought makes a knot tighten in my stomach, but it does.

I slip out of bed and pad barefoot into the living room. That’s where I finally find him.

He’s standing near the windows, fully dressed for the day. His sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, exposing the lean lines of his muscles. The skyline stretches out behind him, all sharp angles and silver light, making him look like the king of the world.

But it’s his face that draws me in. He hasn’t seen me yet. And his expression when he thinks no one’s looking—real, unguarded—seems…

Tired.Not just physically, but mentally. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept in a week.

But then he sees me, and the spell is broken. “Sima.”

I flash him a casual, sleepy smile, pretending I just walked in. “You always get up this early?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Or did you finally find out I wasn’t lying when I said I’m a snorer?”

The corner of his lips flickers. “I’m an early bird.”

“Must have caught a lot of worms, then.” I survey the takeout bags on the table, take a sniff at what’s inside. “You ordered breakfast?”

“Eggs and bacon sandwiches,” he says. “Nothing fancy.”

As if on cue, my stomach growls.Plenty fancy by my standards,it seems to say.

“Your coffee,” Petyr says, sliding a lidded cup towards me. “Splash of cream, two sugars.”

My lips fall open. “How did you know how I take it?”

“You mentioned.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Yesterday.”

But it’s not “nothing.” I did mention, yeah, but it was just the once. In passing. As a joke. Even Jemma mixes up my order on the regular, and we’ve been working side by side for years. The fact that Petyr heard my preferred coffee order once and stuck it in his brain? It’s…

Caring.

He cares what I like.

I shake that thought off and sit down to eat.

The eggs and bacon sandwiches look heavenly.Smellheavenly, too. It’s not breakfast in bed, but it’s more than anyone has ever done for me.

I take a grateful sip of my coffee. The warmth seeps through me, slowly bringing me back to life. I can never function without my cup of liquid productivity in the morning.