Reign (The Syndicate_ Crime and Passion Book 2)(34)

It shouldn’t have been.

Sergei was kind to me, but I wouldn’t allow myself to rely on it, and I wouldn’t pretend that he was incapable of terrible things. But the “brutal animals” Michael described were nothing like him, and I didn’t like Michael talking about him that way.

In fact, I decided, right now I didn’t like Michael talking at all. It was time for this visit to be over.

“Do you need something?” I asked as he sat in one of the lawn chairs and reached for the crystal water pitcher in the center of the table.

His hand stilled at my question, and he looked at me frowning. “I was coming to check on you,” he said.

My anger flared again. He’d only come the day after the wedding at Sergei’s behest, and I hadn’t seen him in the days since. But he was here now, probably thought the worst was over so he was willing to risk it.

I thought I would be sick.

“As you can see, I’m fine,” I said tightly.

He frowned, stood, and then came to stand in front of me. I’d once thought him handsome, but now I could see how opportunistic he was, how he played every situation to his advantage, and that included me.

“Daniela, this will be over soon,” he said. As he spoke, he again reached for my arms, and I wanted to recoil from his clammy touch against my skin.

“I’m fine, Michael. Sergei will be home soon,” I said.

“Ah, I see,” he said, understanding lighting his eyes. “So he’s going for a different approach, trying to win you over.” He stared at me, assessing. “And it’s working.”

“It was good to see you, Michael,” I replied, feeling nothing but the urge to be away from him.

He watched me for a second longer and then nodded. “You too, Daniela,” he whispered, but I heard the good-bye that went unspoken, waited for the grief to come at the sudden loss of an old friendship.

There was nothing but relief when he was gone.



* * *



Daniela

It had been hours since Michael had left, but I was still reeling from his visit when Sergei arrived. I again reached for the poise that I had relied on so often and gave him my best smile and then stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

When I lifted eyelids I had closed, he stared down at me, his own eyes swirling.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. I’m…”

I trailed off as I continued to watch him and saw the flash of warning in his expression. Sergei was calm, not at all quick to anger, but he somehow always knew when I was lying to him, and he never liked it.

I sighed. “Just a difficult day,” I said.

“Any reason why?” he asked, still staring at me.

I couldn’t tell whether this was a question he already knew the answer to or if it was designed to test me, but I didn’t have the energy to lie, nor did I have the desire.

“Michael came to see me today,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

He didn’t sound angry, nor did he look pleased, though.

“He said he just wanted to check on me, see how I was,” I said.

“See how I was treating you?” he asked.

I nodded, and Sergei scowled.

“Pretending he cares,” he said.

“He does, in his own way,” I said, the instinct to stand up for Michael, for any of Santo’s men, moving me automatically.

“Bullshit. If he cared, he wouldn’t have let you marry me,” he said.

“I made my own choice, Sergei,” I said, not angry but not wanting the responsibility for my actions to reflect on someone else.

“And that weasel let you. If you were mine, I would have never allowed it,” he said.

“But what choice did he have?” I asked.

“There’s always a choice. Michael made his, and it’s a bitch move for him to come back now to make sure you’re okay,” he said scornfully.

I went quiet. I’d thought much the same thing when Michael had visited earlier, had known that Sergei would too, but to hear him say it, hear my perception of him confirmed, gave me a deep joy that chased away all the worries that had clouded my mind.

One glimpse at Sergei, though, and they threatened to come back. His expression was stern, bordering on angry, so unlike him. I reached up and touched his cheek, stroked my thumb along the corner of his mouth, trying to soothe away the tension there.

It didn’t work.

“Are you fucking him, Daniela?”

I dropped my hand, recoiled, my eyes wide with shock. “N-No! Of course not. I would nev—”

“But you used to,” he said, brows now dropped in a tight furrow.

My heart thudded as I watched him, not sure what to make of this. I had been honest about my past, though I hadn’t identified the person. Still this anger was surprising, and there was no choice other than to be honest with him. And I didn’t have the desire to be anything else.