Page 33 of Her Rustanov Husband (Ruthless Bullies #2)

True Monster

LYDIA

“Bully, no!”

I almost never used dog commands on my five-year-old.

Calling him my little pit bull had already gone sideways (I found that out the day he decided barking and growling were superior to English and got himself bounced from his first pre-K for biting).

But with Yom Rustanov hovering over us like a second incoming tornado, I grabbed for the voice my little boy knew translated to “Mom means business.”

“Back to the cellar,” I ordered, the Paws it would probably haunt me for life.

But what could I have said?

The thing I’d feared most as a consequence of attempting to take Yom’s 90-day deal had already happened.

“Here is your room, son,” Yom said, setting Bully down before opening the door to a room that looked like a catalog for Men Who Love Dark Colors and Zero Frippery had exploded inside.

Dark-blue walls. Gigantic bed with a heavy moss-green comforter. A leather chair and a fireplace with a television hanging above it, rather than a family photo, like at our cozy house.

But Bully just took a running leap for the bed and let out several excited barks before asking Yom, “Is this all mine? No share with Chris?”

“No share,” Yom answered behind that blank look that really meant he was furious. “I will show your mother to her room, and then she will be back to tuck you into bed.”

“Oh, I don’t need my own room,” I rushed to tell him, trying to keep my voice light. “I’ll sleep in here with Bully, since it’s his first night in a new hou?—”

“No, share, Mommy! Big boy!” Bully shouted, letting me know I’d committed the biggest mom-of-a-five-year-old sin. “Not baby!”

Oh God, Bully, could you be any less helpful? I asked inside my head, trying not to glare at him.

He’d always transitioned easily, which I’d thought of as a blessing. Until tonight.

Reluctantly, I followed Yom down the hall to a sleek white-on-white bedroom that looked like it had been designed by a sentient iPhone. I could already see myself staining everything—including the white armchair—just by breathing in here.

But it didn’t matter. As soon as Yom closed the door behind him, I turned to give him the speech I’d been mentally rehearsing since the plane ride from Gemidgee’s private airfield.

“Look, Yom, I know how this looks, and I just want to say, I am absolutely sorry,” I told him, words tripping over each other to get free.

“I did what I thought was right at the time, when I thought you were a monster. I wanted to tell you—God, I wanted to tell you—but like you said back in school, ‘Rustanovs don’t forgive.’ And no matter how many nice, amazing things you did for me during those ten days together, I couldn’t see you forgiving this.

So I lied. I omitted. Even though you’ve changed, and I should have trusted that.

I can see that now. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.

Really, really sorry. I could not be more sorry. ”

Yom said nothing.

So, of course, I kept going, just vomiting up more words.

“But Bully’s a good kid—a little odd, but basically good to his core.

Amazing, even. And, obviously, he’s taken to you.

So, please, don’t—don’t try to punish me over this.

Just tell me what to do to make this right.

I’ll do anything— anything —to make this right. ”

Silence stretched. And his eyes dragged over me in a way that did not make me feel naked, or sexy, or even distantly liked.

“Anything?” he said at last.

I nodded. Choked. Whispered, “Anything.”

“Lydia.” Yom took a step closer, gaze dropping to the floor and then cutting back up to me. “You were not wrong to think as you did when you came to me for the agreed-upon ninety days.”

“I was…” I blinked. And for a moment, the floor of the world that had been completely rocked by him finding out about Bully steadied underneath me. “You can… see my side of things?”

“Yes, of course I can,” he answered, his voice quiet, almost gentle. “Because you are not incorrect.”

He leaned forward to inform me, “You were right to see through the bunny ears I put on for you before finding out you are a deceitful little bitch who is keeping my son from me for nearly six years.”

His voice didn’t rise as he spoke. Only cooled. “And, nyet , I have not changed. I still do not forgive. And that part about me being a monster? You were right about that, too.”

He straightened to his full height, and the room’s dim light cast his ruthlessly carved face into sharper planes. “And you are about to see how monstrous I can really be. Sleep well, Lydia. You will receive further instructions tomorrow.”

With that, he strode out of the room. A dark thunderstorm that had only stopped by to zap a few people with its lightning.

And my knees immediately gave out. I fell onto the bed, wondering what nightmare the day would bring.