Page 44 of Empire
He stops in front of me, close enough that I can smell the cold air and the familiar scent of copper on him. “Salvatore.”
The way he says my name should not still do this to me. Not after everything I found out tonight. I look away first, because if I don’t, he’ll see too much.
He reaches for my hand, takes the glass, and sets it down on the counter next to me. “Talk to me.”
No.
I nearly say it out loud. The word rises all the way to my teeth before I swallow it down.
No. Don’t touch me. Don’t ask me anything. Let me go. We should end this.
But I simply shake my head. “I’m not in the mood for your interrogations tonight. You did it enough this morning with your talks of freedom.”
His jaw flexes once. “And I’m not in the mood to walk back into my house to find the man I love looking like he’s already halfway out the door.”
I cross my arms over my chest and force my voice to be flatter. “Then perhaps you should have chosen a less dramatic lover.”
I hate myself the second the words leave me, but not enough to take them back. Cruelty is easier. If I can make him angry enough, maybe I can survive the next few hours without breaking open. Maybe I can make him pull away first.
His gaze hardens. “That’s a fucking thing to say.”
I shrug one shoulder and immediately regret how cold the gesture looks.
“Salvatore,” he breathes, “don’t do this.”
I glare at him. “Do what?”
“This!” He gestures between us, angry now. “That fucking thing you do where you turn to ice and think if you act cold enough, I’ll stop pushing.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe you should stop giving me reasons to!”
That almost undoes me.Almost.So I do the only thing I can—I get meaner.
“Not everything is about what you want, Dragovich.”
Ruslan stares at me because this is the cold tone I use when we argue at summits or dinners. The tone I use when I want to impress my father with my nonchalance.
“Is this because I left?” he asks, the heat dropping out of his tone. “If this is because of me leaving, you know I can’t—”
“This is not about your summons.”
“Then what the fuck is this about?”
You, I think.My father. Lucia. Your safe, and the way you trust me enough to leave your whole life hidden behind a combination I can guess because I know how your mind works.
I scoff and push him away, needing distance between us, but he catches my wrist before I get two steps. “Don’t walk away from me.”
“Let go,” I say. “I don’t owe you any answers right now, Ruslan.”
“No, you don’t,” he says, and the volume of his voice doesn’t rise, but the force of him does. “But you owe me enough honesty not to stand here looking at me like I’ve done something unforgivable, when I don’t even know what fucking crime I’m meant to be apologizing for.”
The wordunforgivableslams through me, and for a second, I think I’m going to spill it all. The truth presses up against my teeth, desperate to become sound.
Ruslan must see something in my face, because he goes pale under the anger. “Salvatore, what is it?”
I pull once under his grip and shake my head again, but he doesn’t let go. If anything, he pulls me closer, and I can’t do anything but sink into him.
