Page 145 of Only for Him

Do they ever?

“Romochka,” Afanasy greets me, the diminutive rolling off his tongue like a rubber bullet. It’s both a tease and a jab, but I keep my face stone cold, professional.

“Afanasy Timofeyevich,” I respond, keeping it formal. My voice is steel against the velvet of his mockery.

“Oh, don’t be so formal.” He deliberately continues in Russian to keep Giselle in the dark. Maybe it’s for the best. I have a feeling that she won’t like a single word of what either of us is about to discuss. “Respect is less flattering on you than you think.”

If I were in a better mood, I might be amused thinking of her furrowed brow and muttered protests later, as well as how I can smooth it all out by grabbing her by the hips and using her body the way she loves it used.

But I’m not in a better mood, and my mood worsens with every second that I have to sit here.

Afanasy leans back in his chair, arms crossed. It’s like he can see where my mind is, and how I’m captivated by the memory of Giselle begging me to let her ride my cock until she can hardly think straight.

“I can’t help but feel disappointment in your dalliances with this little policewoman,” he chides, shaking his head. “I broke you out of prison foronereason, and it certainly wasn’t to watch you chase tail and fall in love.”

I look at Giselle, and it’s like looking at the sun. Now that I know she’s done something she wants to hide, everything burns.

“I’m not falling in love,” I state. My voice holds steady, but only just.

“No? But you’ve taken quite a liking to her, haven’t you?” He lets the implications hang heavy between us, twisting the knife with each syllable. “You’re just a man, Romochka. I can see why she would catch your eye.”

He’s baiting me, trying to see if I really don’t care. Because hearing him talk about my little viper like that? I want to gouge his eyes out so he can’t see anything about her ever again.

I won’t give in. Let him think I wouldn’t flay a man for less. I know that she’s mine, and only mine, and that no man will ever try to take her from me and live to tell about it.

For now, that has to be enough.

“I’m using her,” I say, and uttering those words hurts just as much as whatever Giselle’s done. Because it, too, is a betrayal. “She’s helping me break up your family.”

“What a relief,” Afanasy raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “I don’t need a lover for this job. I need a soldier.”

That, at least, I can agree with.

Iama soldier, and Iwilldismantle the Starkovs piece by piece.

Once I take them down, Afanasy will step in and take over anything still worth taking over. He has his eyes on Pavel’s New York real estate.

In truth, I don’t fucking care what Afanasy does with the ashes of his family’s empire. He can crown himself king of the wreckage for all I care.

All I want is Pavel’s head.

“I’m focused on the work,” I say, a promise to both of us.

“Of course you are,” Afanasy gestures lazily, already bored of the debate. “And since you’re so focused, you must already know that my father is dead.”

The words choke the air.

Timofey is dead?

The very idea feels unnatural, like finding out that every speciesexceptcockroaches managed to survive a nuclear apocalypse. A failure of evolution.

There was a time that man was like a father to me. To this day, he might be the closest anyone ever got to that role.

But I won’t grieve the bastard. Even if I know why he’d take Pavel’s word over mine, even if he wasn’t the one who killed Anastasia, he was still a part of it.

So no, I won’t mourn him.

I’ll spit on his grave.