rose to his feet, pulling up his trousers. I could feel him growing further and further away. “And that is your only proof?” he asked dangerously.
I rose to my feet as well, not bothering to hide my nakedness. “Why do you think the hundreds of doctors you sent for couldn’t find anything, Konstantin? Because there was nothing to find. She made it up—the entire thing!”
“Then why is suddenly better?” he inquired. “Why did she choose you to heal your fake illness instead of anybody else?”
“Well, I imagine it’s because she probably thought I wouldn’t notice,” I snapped.
Konstantin stood tall, fury emanating from every pore. I had never seen his temper so out in the open, so easily identifiable. “Tatiana has been a part of this family since she was eighteen. Not once has she ever acted dishonestly or dishonorably.”
“That doesn’t mean she can’t do shitty things, Konstantin.” I snapped.
“Tatiana is not dangerous,” he warned. “She is a good woman, who has been nothing but kind and caring to her husband and son. She has never harmed anyone—”
“Unlike me?” I hissed.
Konstantin held a hand. “You know that is not what I meant.” His eyes caught my bare legs, goosebumps pebbling on the exposed skin. To my surprise, he unbuttoned and slipped off his shirt. “Cover yourself,” he growled. “And let’s end this conversation here.”
I refused the shirt. “This conversation is not over. I will not be a pawn to Tatiana’s game. Nor will I let you be.”
“Enough, Elena,” he repeated. “These accusations are grounded in nothing—”
“They are grounded in fact! Open your eyes. She faked getting sick, she faked getting better. Not really the behavior of a good woman, now is it?”
His features warped, teasing the beast beneath his skin. “I said enough.”
“And I said no.”
Konstantin looked down at me, “Then I guess we are at an impasse,” he growled. “But I am still Pakhan and when I order you to keep these theories to yourself, you will obey.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, cushioning my breasts. “When I want to keep my theories to myself, I will. Until then, go fuck yourself.”
“Enough rebellion,” he warned. “I am ordering—”
“So when my rebellion is against everyone but you it’s okay?” My tone had taken on a near-savage sound to it, equivalent to a wolf shrieking at its prey. “I won’t make myself more appetizing so I’m easier for you to swallow. You can choke for all I care.”
His lip curled back. “Very well. You have made your decision.” His eyes were nothing but rage as they pinned me to the spot. “I hope you can handle the consequences, lyubimaya.”
28
Konstantin Tarkhanov
“I believe her.”
The sentence coming from Roman’s mouth made me stop in my step.
November wind swirled all around us, bringing the cold over the Narrows. We had traveled to the usual meeting spot via boat, the journey rough and uncomfortable, but the choppy waves hadn’t been the only reason the tension had been high.
My men were walking on eggshells around me.
As they should be.
There was no word equivalent to how I was feeling.
Rage and fury were too tame to describe the boiling of my blood and red of my vision.
Pens and papers split beneath my grip, bratok cowered beneath my stare, and even the ocean seemed to shudder beneath my attention.
But Roman, it seemed, had lost his survival instincts for the time being.
I turned to him slowly. I heard some of my men cuss softly under their breath at Roman, but I paid them no mind.
“What did you just say?” I asked quietly.
Roman shifted on his feet, showing he wasn’t a complete idiot. He sent a few glares to his fellow byki, meaning he wanted them to offer us some privacy.
There was no need. News had travelled quickly through the men. From my office, to Artyom and Feodor, with Roman and Olezka following. Soon the entire Bratva, including the women in my household, knew about the accusations towards Tatiana.
She had not revoked them. Had not apologized or compromised. She had borne the consequences, the cold shoulders and biting comments with her chin held high.
If I wasn’t so angry, I would’ve been impressed.
Roman cleared his throat as he said, “I believe Elena.”
Elena.
Her name cut through the wind, as demanding and wild as the woman herself.
“And why,” I asked, “do you believe her?”
“I just don’t see why she would make it up.”
I rose an eyebrow. “But you believe Tatiana made it up? The woman with whom you have lived side by side with for