Page 94 of The Bratva Betrayal

“Say it, Cady.”

“I’m not going to say something I don’t mean.”

I watch the emotions move across his face, from confusion to offense, and then anger. He’s never been told no by someone he wanted, and he has no idea how to handle it.

“You know what your problem is?” His voice drops. “You think you’re better than me. You walk around with that face, and that family name, and you think that makes you something special.”

“Let go of my arms, Misha.”

“I’m offering you everything.” His eyes are glassy and mean. “My name. My family. Five million reasons your father said yes to without blinking. And you’re standing here in your fancy kitchen acting like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Don’t you mean five million dollars to pay off your three-million-dollar debt?”

His skin reddens because his little secret is out, and there’s nothing magic around us anymore.

His ego is bruised because I won’t blindly follow him into marriage while he tries to look like a guy in love.

But he’s not in love with me.

He’ll never be in love with me.

“The sex wasn’t bad either, right, baby?” His fingers dig into my flesh, and I’m seconds away from kneeing him in the balls. “I wanted you to want this. I wanted you to be… different.”

“I am different,” I say quietly. “That’s the problem.”

Something shifts around him, and Misha suddenly lets go of me. And for one breath I think it’s over, think he’s pulling back, coming down from whatever edge he’s been standing on since he walked through my door.

Then, he reaches into his waistband.

The gun comes out smooth and practiced. He presses the cold barrel underneath my chin with enough force to tip my head back.

I can’t move. He’s unhinged, and I’m the reason he’s upset.

“I’m not asking anymore,” he whispers. “I’m telling you. You will marry me. You will smile at the right people and say the right things, and you will do it because your father agreed and Benedikt agreed, and because the only person in this situation who seems to think your feelings matter is you.”

This is the moment where panic gets people killed. I’ve been raised in rooms full of men like this my entire life. I know that the worst thing I can do is react to what he’s just said.

“Put the gun down, Misha.”

“When you say yes.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m asking you a question.”

“You’re not asking,” I say carefully. “You’re threatening. And threatening me won’t get you what you want.”

“Fine,” he says. “You want to see a threat? Let me show you what happens when I stop asking.”

He turns his head toward the doorway, where the brunette still lingers, watching with wide, eager eyes.

A vulture circling the tension.

“Lena,” he calls. “Come here.”

She moves, hips swaying and a faint smile on her lips. Oh, she knows her role tonight.

Misha doesn’t look away from me as she approaches. He backs up until he hits the edge of the granite kitchen island, then leans against it, spreading his legs. Lena steps into the space he makes, her back to his front, and he curls an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.