Page 67 of Ruthless Reign
He narrows his eyes, irritated at the interruption. “What’s the rush? We have our own balcony.”
“I just… I don’t want to miss any of the show.”
He sighs in annoyance and tells his companions that he’ll join them for a drink later.
Clamping a hand around my elbow, he leads me toward his private balcony. “What’s gotten into you?” he snaps when we’re out of earshot. “You look unwell.”
“Just a headache,” I assure him. “Nothing Tylenol won’t fix. I have one in my clutch; I’ll just pop into the washroom to take it. I’ll meet you at our seats.”
He grunts in response, his attention already captured by his phone.
It takes me a few minutes to steady my breathing and rein in my emotions. I expected to see Roman and Katerina together, but I wasn’t prepared for that kiss and how he looked at her as he pulled away—like she meant something to him. Seeing Roman with Katerina feels like a slap in the face, a painful reminder of my gullibility.
How could I have been so blind? How could I let him fool me so completely?
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take a deep breath and push out of the stall, fumbling in my purse for Tylenol because my headache is real.
“I see you didn’t take my advice.” That voice. Like nails on a damn chalkboard.
“I happen to think I look nice in red.” I refuse to make eye contact with Katerina. Instead, I focus on my reflection in the mirror. Just because I know she’s watching, I take out a tube of fire-engine red lipstick and apply it to my full lips.
“As long as you feel comfortable, that’s what counts.” She smooths down her already perfect blonde waves, admiring her reflection in the mirror. “Roman and I are sitting in the Belovs’ box tonight because we want a little privacy.” A slow, deliberate smirk spreads across her face. “Honestly, I don’t even know if we’re going to make it through the full opera with his wandering hands.”
My shoulders stiffen, a tight smile fixed in place. She has no clue how I feel about Roman. For her, it’s all about scoring one of Moscow’s most eligible bachelors. He ticks all the boxes: handsome, wealthy, and influential. And let’s be real, the bad boy vibe only adds to the appeal. For a woman like Katerina, those are green flags
“I’m so happy for you.” I put the cap back on my lipstick and drop it in my clutch. “I’m sure the rumors about Roman going through women faster than tissue aren’t true. I mean, I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice, but who knows. Maybe you’ll be the lucky one to stick around.”
Satisfaction zips through me as the smug look melts off her face, replaced by a pout. Part of me feels bad for leaning into Roman’s reputation—a reputation I wasn’t convinced of until tonight. Because I know what I saw. If he’s into someone like Katerina, he’s clearly not the man I thought he was.
I smooth down my dress, adding a little spring to my step as I pass her. “I’ll say goodbye now, just in case I don’t see you later. Oh, and don’t forget to bag it up. I hear herpes itches like a bitch.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ROMAN
I fucking hate opera. To me, it sounds like cats yodeling after a few shots of tequila.
I might be the only one that feels that way, judging by the rapt crowd. Everyone’s attention is on the stage, on the performance of Carmen, while my attention is wholly captured by the woman in the box directly across from mine.
She refuses to look my way.
I deserve her wrath, and I’ll fucking regret that kiss with Katerina until the day I die. It was unwanted and definitely uninvited. She tasted all wrong, nothing like Liza’s sweet, sun-kissed flavor that’s forever imprinted in my memory. I pushed Katerina away, but the damage was already done.
Hurting Liza was never part of the plan. The flash of pain in her eyes when her soon-to-be sister-in-law pressed her artificial, pillowy lips to mine made my heart twist.
Liza might wear another man’s ring, but I’m the one she wants … and the man she’s going to get.
Truth be told, the plan to stay away from her shattered the moment I laid eyes on the bruise below her eye. Because I know a bruise is never just a bruise. First it's a bruise, and then a black eye, then a broken arm, and then it’s your mother lying in a pool of blood while your father gets to move on with his life because you were too chicken-shit to stop him until it was too late.
I won’t make that mistake twice.
I’ve spent my whole life making calculated decisions, thinking with my head and not my heart. In the time since London, my head and heart have finally gotten on the same page.
I’m not willing to stand by and watch Liza marry a man who doesn't deserve her and whose abuse will only get worse. But I have to restrain myself because my ruthless actions will have major consequences. For me, for Liza, and for the Belov Syndicate.
Now, more than ever, I need to bide my time until the moment is right to make a move. Judging by Antoly’s shadiness, that time might come sooner than later.
From across the opera hall, Liza finally turns my way, and damn, she’s practically spitting fire from her eyes. If looks could kill and all that.