Page 2 of Twisted Pact

She’s right. Alexei’s eyes lock on mine across the room and don’t let go. Those stormy blues pin me, dragging me straight back to that restaurant six months ago.

One of the men beside him speaks, but Alexei doesn’t answer. Doesn’t look away. Just sips his whiskey slowly, making me bear the weight of his attention.

“Go talk to him.” Oksana nudges me. “Grovel enough, and maybe he’ll give you another chance.”

“I don’t grovel.”

“Then whatdoyou do, Mila? Because from here, all I see is bad decisions that keep hurting our family.”

The champagne, humiliation, and six months of biting my tongue finally crack something inside me. I shove my empty glass at Oksana and storm toward Alexei Kozlov, my heels striking the marble with every furious step.

The men part like the Red Sea, and suddenly, I’m standing in front of him with no idea what to say.

“Mila Andreeva.” His voice is deeper than I remember, rough enough to spark heat low in my belly. “I wondered if you’d show tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Your brother’s wedding is apparently the social event of the year.”

His mouth quirks. “And yet, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. How’s grad school treating you?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I make it my business to know. Especially about a woman who walks away from me.”

His arrogance makes my blood boil. “I didn’t walk away from you. I walked away from an arranged marriage—to a man I’d never met—where I was the second choice.”

“You met me.” He spreads his arms like the proof is right there. “For most women, that’s enough.”

“I met you for five minutes while my sister broke down, and your brother looked ready to kill someone. I was staring at the disaster, not at you. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t need to flatter myself. Your body does it for me.” He smirks. “Like it is right now.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your pupils. The way your heart is racing in that pretty throat. Tell me, Mila. What were you so afraid of?”

I frown, glancing away. “I wasn’t afraid of anything.”

“Then why refuse?” His voice drops low. “Your family needed the alliance. I was willing. You said no, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.”

“Because I’m not cattle to be traded,” I snap through clenched teeth.

“No one said you were.”

“Didn’t you, though?” I lift my chin, meeting his eyes even as my heart slams against my ribs. “That’s all arranged marriages are—daughters traded like livestock to seal a contract.”

“Or partnerships that benefit everyone. You could’ve had everything, Mila. Protection. Power. A future. Instead, you let your family fall apart.”

His words knock the air from my lungs. “My family’s problems aren’t mine to fix.”

“No? Then whose are they?” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “Your sister wrecked the arrangement. Your father’s drowning in debt and enemies. And you’re hiding behind textbooks, pretending you’re untouchable.”

“I’m not hiding.” But it comes out breathless and unconvincing.

“Then what are you doing here, Mila? Because if you’re not hiding, you must be looking for something.” His mouth brushes the shell of my ear as he adds, “Or someone.”

Every nerve sparks to life. I should step back. Tell him to go to hell. Do anything but stand here and let him unravel me like this.

“You’re an arrogant bastard.”