Page 114 of House of Lies
“Can we discuss this later?”
“Do you still need anything from Konstantin?”
The accountant is watching us intently. All the color has drained from his face.
“I don’t think he’ll ever admit to it. And I don’t believe he’ll be of any help to us, either.”
“Good.” Kaz nods.
He takes the gun from the desk, points it at Konstantin, and shoots him in the head. I cover my mouth, muffling a scream. I feel Yuri’s eyes on me, and I try to maintain a composed façade, even though I’m anything but composed. I’ve heard Kaz speak about killing people before, but I’ve never actually witnessed him cold-bloodedly murder someone. I saw bodies fall when Mattia planned to sell me to the Spanish men, but I was too broken, beaten, and bruised to comprehend what was happening around me. I saw the bodies drop, but I didn’t see who pulled the trigger. I know he killed Ermanno. Mattia. The men who hurt me. But this? I don’t know how to process it. Kaz returns the gun to its hiding spot under the drawer and rubs his temples.
“Get someone to clean this up, Yuri,” Kaz instructs.
I swallow hard, avoiding looking at Konstantin’s body. Kaz finds himself in a precarious situation. I understand that his uncle managed his business while he was in prison, and afterward, Kaz pursued Mattia, spending months in New York. Even upon his return, some still believe they can defy him. Perhaps some remain loyal to his uncle. I don’t need a reminder of who Kaz is.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I’ve seen dead bodies before,” I reply, my voice steadier than I expected. I place my hand on his arm, drawing closer. “We’ll figure this out, I promise.”
He grasps my chin with the same hand that pulled the trigger, tilting my head. I smile as his warm and soft lips meet mine, reminding me of who he is when he’s with me. It’s foolish of me to let down my guard like this, to try to justify his actions and to overlook all the warning signs, but it’s too late to fight it.
CHAPTER 72
Kaz
Caelia is so focused on her work that she doesn’t notice me standing in the doorway. I’ve been watching her for the past ten minutes, fascinated by how committed she is to this. She hasn’t been doing anything else over the past few weeks. She didn’t say anything about Konstantin, either. I’m deeply in love with her. Every bone in my body aches to be in her presence. I smile when I recall that day last week at the gym when she nearly slipped and confessed her feelings for me. She ran away afterward, but I wasn’t expecting anything different. I know Caelia is conflicted about everything that has been happening between us. She won’t give in quickly, and it wouldn’t concern me if we had all the time in the world, but our time is running out.
“You need to take a break,” I say, convinced she won’t notice me.
Her eyes snap in my direction, and she smiles.
“I can’t afford to take a break,” she replies, shaking her head and stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.
“You can’t afford to burn out either.”
“I have to finish this, Kaz, before I lea—.” I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to complete her sentence.
She doesn’t. Her eyes widen, realizing what she was about to say. She wants to help me rebuild my accounting records before she leaves me. Because she will.
“Before you what, solnyshko?”
I step inside the room, closing the door behind me. I take off my jacket and roll up my sleeves as I approach the bed. She bites her lip, fidgeting with the papers scattered everywhere on the bed.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head.
I wish I hadn’t given her a choice in moments like this. Deep down, I know that no matter what I do for her, she won’t stay with me. She’s too stubborn; if she genuinely loves me, she sees it as a curse rather than a blessing.
“Say what you were going to say.”
I don’t want to argue with her. I don’t want to lose my patience and repeat the same mistakes as Mattia. I’ve learned my lesson. It will only push her further away. But damn, it’s difficult sometimes. I take a seat at the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to throw everything onto the floor, pin Caelia beneath me, and make her swear she’ll never leave.
“You know what I was about to say,” she says softly.
“I want to hear you say it.”
She takes a deep breath. “I want to finish this before our time is up. Before I leave.”
Her words shatter me. I often wonder if my love for her has turned me into a masochist. I lean forward, crossing my arms. It looks like I’m about to pray, and maybe I should.