Corrupt - Lana Sky Page 0,3

pushing me away.

“A one-night stand?” I prod. Somehow that possibility stings more than him having a genuine relationship. I couldn’t convince him to let me suck him off during our first meeting, and yet some other woman managed to snag his child in one go.

Lucky her.

“No,” he says, confusing me further. “It is…complicated. More than you can imagine.” His jaw clenches in that telltale hallmark of when he’s reflecting on that which haunts him the most—his past. As angry as I am now, I can’t seem to broach that topic.

So, I do the next best thing and march over to my makeshift suitcase. As I stoop for the strap, his voice rings out.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?” I hiss, placing my hand on my hip instead. “Give me one reason why I should stay? I didn’t sign up for this. You may enjoy treating people like toys, but I won’t serve as your smiling Barbie so you can acquire some poor little girl—”

“I can’t do this alone. I can’t.” His voice is so guttural each word resonates in my bones, sinking deep. “I can’t do this by myself, and I’ve worked too damn hard to secure her placement. I… I need your help. It’s why I wanted to hire…” He grits his teeth, his expression grim with determination. “Stay. I’ll give you whatever you want—”

“I want honesty!” I snap, but my voice rings out hollower than I’m used to. Broken. “I want you to tell me more than the basic, generic damn answers. Tell me the truth!”

“I will,” he counters, raising his tone to match mine. “I will. But you yourself stated that you had a perfect childhood. I was not so lucky. So do not doubt that my sole concern is Magdalene, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure that she is safe with me.”

“Is that a threat?” I try to sound nonchalant—like I’m not afraid. But when he looks as he does now…I am. His eyes blaze, ruthlessly determined.

And not for the first time, I’m forced to reconcile the fact that I have no idea what he’s capable of.

“Stay with me,” he commands, his voice slightly softer. “I cannot risk losing her to some bureaucratic miscalculation. I’ve worked too damn hard… The sacrifices I’ve made for her? You think I’ve betrayed you, fine. But understand that I can’t risk losing her placement. I can’t.”

And he’s begging me to prevent just that from happening.

“Fine.” Overwhelmed, I lift my hands in surrender. “I’ll stay until she’s placed with you—but I’m leaving after that.”

He sighs in relief. “Thank you—”

“But that is all you’re getting out of me,” I say over him, desperate to put distance between us—any petty way I can. “Forget our ‘relationship.’ There isn’t one. And I suggest you find somewhere else to sleep. Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“S’il te plaît! Just listen to me…” A groan escapes him, so pained, it stops me right in my tracks. “Tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness.”

“Nothing!” I snarl. Why am I so angry? I still don’t know. Or maybe I just can’t admit it, even to myself—a stinging pinch in my chest reveals the answer anyway. Jealousy. Jealousy. Jealousy.

It festers on a million different petty observations. Like how he listened to me pine for a child I’ll never have, while hiding his own. A child connected to him in ways I suspect he’s deliberately not revealing—her mother’s identity, for one. Those eyes, he said in that hollow tone reserved only for those who matter most to him, like his horse Zzazza. I only had to see her face, and I knew. Those eyes…

The mere thought of him withholding something from me hurts in ways I can’t explain. Tears spill from my eyes as I whirl to face him, my voice scathing, “I escaped a marriage with one self-centered asshole. I’ll be damned if I’m jumping into another with someone ten times worse, fake or not. Jim didn’t pretend to be anything other than a prick. So, fuck off, Vadim. I suggest you continue your search for a fake fiancée.”

I turn on my heel and leave him there. Storming into the bedroom, I slam the door behind me so fiercely the sound echoes like a gunshot.

Then I sink onto the bed and cry in earnest, like I haven’t in a very, very long time. Shoulders shaking, voice breaking, full-throttle sobs. It’s a pity party, for sure. I can admit

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