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Chapter Twenty-Seven

DEMYAN

Fuck everything.

I storm into my study and slam the door, stalk to the wet bar, and pull out the vodka in the freezer. There’s some in the wine fridge, and in the actual fridge there, but I want the good stuff. I want it cold and thick.

I want it to numb the burning that blooms in my chest.

There’s a glass on my desk, but I ignore it, throwing myself into my chair, and I just drink from the bottle.

The burning inside is something heavy and clawlike. It’s made of anger, jealousy, and frustration and it’s wreaking havoc, leaving a path of destruction behind it. Yet it’s not even remotely touching the burning.

Worse, I can’t figure out if it’s hot or cold, that burn, only that it’s there.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Of course I don’t answer myself because there’s no answer to that. How can there be? I’ve got a temper, yes. And I’ve come to blows with Ilya before, but not like that, not where I’ve wanted him dead. Not over a woman.

I snapped .

The horrible part is I know there’s nothing between them. Ilya’s loyal and even if he wanted Erin, which he’s never shown even an inkling of doing, he’d never ever come close to crossing a line.

As I sit here, it dawns on me what my problem was.

Jealousy.

A new breed.

With Erin, sometimes it’s an uphill battle for me not to pull things apart, to keep even-keeled. I like her so much I can’t breathe, and I don’t know how to tell her. Or show her. Every time I try, I fuck up. And every time I fuck up, it gets harder.

Seeing how easy they are together, seeing how Ilya makes her smile and laugh and display an openness I only had when we first met, it does things to me. Debilitates.

Seeing them like old pals drove me insane.

And I know Sasha loves him, too.

Alina told me. She told me my son asked about me. But I’ll admit it. My anger and fury had nothing to do with Sasha.

Everything to do with Erin.

I want what Ilya has with her.

I want that openness. That level of comfortable.

She’s mine.

And I can’t stand to see her with someone else. Not even my friend. When it was innocent.

“Shit.” I take a long pull on the vodka. Then another.

I fucked up.

Royally.

Cataclysmic comes to mind, too.

And now I’ve got the problem of Stefina, because Sergio informed me it’s going ahead. Wedding invitations, the works, are ready to go.

He’s doing this to manipulate me. He even brought up Erin. Not her specifically, but the hot blonde I turned up with at that event. Someone must have mentioned her to him.

What the hell was I thinking agreeing to marrying Stefina?

I know my excuse is sound. Avenge Max. I was so focused on that and on sending a message that no one messes with my family, that instead of me just going for Niko, I tried to trap him so I could bring him down and extract that revenge.

I’m still after that revenge but maybe Ilya was right—there were better ways than Sergio.

Because it seems in a bid to protect what’s mine, I might have sacrificed my own happiness.

I want to be with Erin. With Sasha. But if Sergio makes good on his threat of announcing this fucking wedding, then… Fuck

Me humiliating him is an option. Point-blank denying it, backing out. But then a man like Sergio, if he is working the Niko angle for himself, will have more power than he should. And he’ll be out for blood.

Then Niko?—

Someone knocks on my door. I look up and over, then take the bottle and another deep swallow.

Ilya’s not respecting my previously closed door.

“When you knock,” I say, “You just fucking wait.”

He closes the door, looking irritated and concerned. “What the fuck was that? Erin’s already skittish about your temper, because remember how you locked her up? This whole house arrest for everyone here’s playing on that. So, what the fuck was that?”

“Sergio.”

He stalks up and grabs the bottle, pouring a glass, then hands it back. He drinks it, then leans on my desk in a way that would have most shot dead. “I warned you.”

“You think I don’t know that? ”

“We’re handing it, so if we need more pressure…”

“He was less than pleased with the raid.” I think about how much he should know, but my keeping this deal from him is perhaps what got me in this situation. And I breathe out slowly. “He’s going to retaliate.”

“I figured that might happen but—” I flicker a glance at him. “What?”

“Shit, Ilya, I wanted to play him, and he wants my name to boost him.”

“Along with Niko?”

I don’t answer that. “He wanted me to marry Stefina. We made an arrangement. That for help with bringing down Niko. I told him it was null and void because of his false information and now he’s claiming he’ll be announcing the nuptials.”

Ilya stares at me, grabs the bottle, and sits opposite me.

I fill him in on what actually happened when I met with him that first time, how I figured once I got what I wanted, I’d get out of it, and now… this new threat.

One he can make good on.

Because if I kill him, then it’s a complete mess, and I’d probably still be left having to marry his fucking daughter.

“Well, shit.”

“I can’t see a way out of it. He didn’t come through for me, but if he releases the wedding invites, even a sniff of a wedding between the two families, I’m going to look weak if I back out or be stuck with her.”

“We can get out of it.”

“How? I figured he wouldn’t have the balls to push me.”

“He doesn’t. But you know who does? Fucking Stefina. That girl’s been sniffing after you for so long. How could you—” He stops.

“Be so stupid?” I shrug. “Alina needs her revenge.”

“She needs her brother, Boss. ”

I just nod and lean over and take the bottle, filling up his glass. I grab another one and pour some in, setting down the bottle in the middle of the desk.

“She needs revenge, too.”

“So you marry Stefina?”

“I’ll find a way out of it.”

He taps his hand on the glass. “And Erin? What are you going to say to her?”

“Nothing.”

His gaze is sharp.

“She doesn’t need to know.”

“Not until the wedding day?” I glare, but he shrugs. “It might happen. Even if it doesn’t, she might get word of it. Then what?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“Demyan, she’s not one of us,” he says, voice low. “She won’t understand. She won’t get the way of things. And I thought you told her she was marrying you.”

“I did.”

“And?”

He wants me to find an answer, tell him how to handle this. Take out Sergio and his family, or maybe he wants to know what that burning is in me. Because I think I know what it is.

“I want to marry Erin.”

“Why?”

“She’s the mother of my child,” I say, fighting it.

He shrugs. “A mistress? Or just you putting her in a position where she has to deal with whatever you throw at her because you want your child?”

“I want her.”

“Why?”

I grit my teeth. “You know why. Because I wanted to kill you for being so cozy and easy with her earlier. Because I want that. Because, fuck, I’m falling fucking in love with her.

That’s why I want to be with her. I want her.

” I sigh, defeat weighing me down. “But Sergio will do anything for his princess. We both know he’ll never let this go. ”

“Forget fucking Stefina for a moment.”

“I can’t.”

He stands. “You can if you want to keep Erin. You need to get in there.”

I stand too.

“She’s freaked out by your display. Me? I don’t give a fuck what you do. I’d have fought you if you were hurting me. But you pushed your sister. You pushed her. And she… Shit, Demyan. Deal with that, then we’ll deal with this mess.”

I kick the wall the pain ricocheting up my leg. “Go.”

“You need to?—”

“Go. I need some time alone to figure this mess out myself.”