Page 179 of Wicked Proposal

“Calm down,” Maksim sighs. “You’re not wrong, but you’ve got no reason to think that. No proof. When I talked to her, she seemed fine.”

“They always seem fine.”

“By your logic,Icould be an enemy plant, too.” He covers the buttons with his palm, preventing me from crushing them with my urgency. “There’s no reason to panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Maks, I swear to God, if you don’t shut up right this second?—”

“What?” He gets between me and the buttons. “You’ll find every excuse under the sun to bury the truth?”

“Whattruth?”

“That you love her.”

It’s like getting sucker punched. All the air goes out of me, leaving only anger in its wake. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He crosses his arms. “You gave up your best shot at revenge for her. You chose her over twenty years of single-minded obsession. And now, you’re afraid it’s not going to matter.”

“I’m not fucking?—”

“Yes, you are!” Maksim raises his voice to match mine. “Goddammit, brother. You know it as well as I do: You’ve painted too big a target on her back. It’s too late to pull the plug now. That’s why you’re scared out of your wits, seeing enemies in every shadow. Even your best friend’s.”

It hits too close for comfort.

Too close to the truth I’ve been burying deep inside my conscience, where I can no longer feel it clawing at me.

“Shut up,” I snarl.

“You love her,” he repeats, undeterred. “And you didn’t realize soon enough. And now you’re trying to undo it all, but youcan’t,Yulian! You?—”

I grab Maksim by the lapels of his jacket and slam him against the elevator wall. The powder keg of my fury is this close to exploding, and he keeps dangling the match close enough for sparks.

“I said,” I growl into his tattooed face, “shut the fuck up, or I’ll make you.”

“Fine.” He spits that word like it’s an insult. “Just don’t come crying to me when you’ve got two more graves to clean.”

I hit him before I can stop to think why I shouldn’t.

Blood spatters on my shirt. Maks clenches his teeth, but doesn’t cry out—he’s made of stronger stuff than that.

I let him go and slump against the opposite wall, panting hard.

He’s right.

It’s all I can think of. I thought I’d made a choice last night, but the truth is, I didn’t. I didn’t even make a choice when Maks came to me in my office a week ago, telling me about our enemies’ movements.

There was only one choice to be made, and I made it the second I let Mia climb into a car with me, the night of Brad’s wedding.

Put a target on her back, or spare her.

“Fuck.” I drag my hands over my face. “FUCK!”

Maksim spits a bloody glob on the elevator floor and cleans his face with his sleeve. There are no tooth fragments, nothing broken.

“Yeah,” he echoes. “‘Fuck’ is right.”