Fractured Ties by Bethany-Kris Page 0,15

belt, or some other form of degradation and humiliation, Ivan Kozlov never once thought it appropriate to let his daughter live down her legacy.

She was the child of a whore.

Abandoned, and unwanted.

To be used where there was a need, and nothing more.

So was her life.

“Well, she knows Russian,” Konstantin grumbled.

Maya’s cheek twitched when he again spoke like she wasn’t in the room. “She is right here.”

“Stop doing that,” Kolya snapped at his brother.

Maya sat a little straighter at the same time Konstantin’s brow furrowed when he stared at his brother. What was happening?

“You’re not okay, are you?” Konstantin asked.

“I … fuck off,” Kolya grumbled. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like that, Konstantin! Stop looking at me like I’ve got two fucking heads sprouting out of either side of my goddamn neck.”

“Is he usually this … emotional?” Maya asked the man still standing in the doorway.

Kaz sucked air through his teeth and rocked back on his heels while the rest of the room went completely silent. “We like to say he’s been stuck in a bad mood for a while. It’s an easier way to deal with him, yes?”

Kolya cursed roughly. “I am not emotional.”

Konstantin cleared his throat, saying quietly, “Okay, brat.”

“I am—”

“What happened to my father?” Maya asked suddenly.

All eyes turned on her again.

The silence stretched on.

“Something bad, then,” she murmured knowingly.

“We’ll handle that later,” Konstantin said quickly, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Yes, later,” Kaz agreed.

Kolya, on the other hand, tipped his head to the side, and his gaze narrowed on her. “It depends, Maya.”

Jesus.

She was pretty sure that was the first time he had said her name. And like everything else that came out of his mouth, he spoke her name roughly, as though it had to be pulled from his lips in the harshest way to even be heard. And yet, everything else he said was delivered with a cold flatness that he clearly didn’t care about.

Except her name.

She heard the heat—felt the pull that came with it.

As though he wanted to yank her name right back between his lips the moment he let it out because it didn’t sound like everything else he dared to say out loud.

She blinked.

He kept staring.

“Depends on what?” she dared to ask.

A part of her didn’t want to know.

Another part wanted to keep him talking.

“It depends,” Kolya murmured, “on how you might feel about him being dead.”

Huh.

Well …

“I know you can speak,” Kolya said when she stayed quiet. “We’ve all heard you do it. I don’t like being left in suspense, so talk.”

“You don’t have to be rude,” Maya mumbled. “Tonight was a lot to take in, okay?”

“Prosti, Maya.”

His soft-spoken apology all but took every bit of air that was in the room out with it. She didn’t know why, but the change in atmosphere was fucking tangible. Like something she could actually reach out and feel.

That was the best way she could describe it.

Kolya was still staring at her, sure, but the other two men in the room were gaping like fools at one another.

What just happened?

Did Kolya not apologize, or something?

Was it because he spoke softly?

Was it both things?

“He is dead,” Kolya added. “Your father, I mean.”

Maya glanced down at her hands and nodded. “Thought so.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“Luck always runs out, and karma is heavy-handed when it strikes.”

Was she supposed to be sad?

Hurting?

Crying, even?

Maya couldn’t dredge up more than a pang of resentment in her chest for a man who had spent her whole life calling her names, beating her down physically and emotionally, and even going as far as to make her sleep with dogs because he didn’t think she was worthy.

At least the dogs were always kind.

They only wanted love, too.

“Where do you live, or stay?” Kolya asked her.

Embarrassment filled Maya instantly. Heat colored her cheeks with a light pink, and she refused to look up so the rest of them could see it. “Why?”

“Because I asked.” Kolya cleared his throat, adding, “And I asked nicely.”

He had.

Still … her pride made her keep quiet.

Apparently, that was not going to be acceptable to Kolya. “Well?”

“I don’t have a home,” Maya admitted. “My father wouldn’t allow me to move out on my own, and so I stayed with him, or he made me stay here.”

She did look up then, to see Kolya’s gaze had all but narrowed into slits. “And where did you stay when you were here?”

That, Maya refused to answer.

Someone else had the answer, anyway. Cutting her with shame even deeper than before.

“I would say with