“Does she occupy a lot of your thoughts, kukolka?”
I feel my knuckles go white as my hands clench into fists. I never used to be a violent person. But I’ve been transformed in the last year. Into a person whose fists have become hungry for the relief that her soul can’t seem to find.
Now, Leo smiles, and as much as I want to launch another attack, I feel the barest hint of hesitation. Because as monstrous as he is, he has a beautiful face. It would be a shame to destroy it. Even if it’s deserved.
“Tell me,” I demand.
He raises his eyebrows, noting the change in my voice. “That was very good. Commanding. Confident. Almost believable.”
“Almost?”
“Your eyes,” he says, pointing. “They give you away.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
“How?”
“The tone was pure Viktoria Mikhailov. Self-assured and powerful. But the eyes?” He tips his head to the side like he’s studying a piece of art. “The eyes are Willow Powers. Nervous. Filled with doubt.”
“You don’t know me anymore.”
“That implies I ever bothered getting to know you in the first place.”
These sparring contests are dangerous, mostly because he’s so damn good at them. But my pride is involved now. I don’t back down, even though I know I should.
That’s another thing that’s new. The pride. You can’t survive in this world without it. Without pride, what are you? Just a random person with nothing to prove. Nothing to protect.
He smiles. “But I see you, Willow. The girl you once were is still there, hiding behind that tight little body and some slapdash combat training. Little Willow has been forced inward by an exiled queen who respects only brutality and strength.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I bite back at him. “How can you accuse her of something that you yourself are guilty of?”
“Because I would never use my child as a weapon.”
His words lance through me like blades. I fight to hide my reaction. “You used me.”
“You’re not my child. You’re not my blood.”
“And you hold her to higher standards?” I ask. “Why should that matter? She didn’t raise me. She doesn’t know me, either.”
I regret it the moment I say it. This is why talking to him is never a smart choice. My mouth runs ahead of my caution.
“Life with your mother hasn’t been as smooth sailing as you’d have me believe, then?”
I bite my tongue and curse myself for being so easily manipulated. “It’s been educational. I needed it.”
“Is that right?”
He doesn’t believe me, but I’m telling the truth. Anya did teach me a lot. Without her, I’d already be dead.
“Are you going to answer any of my questions?” I ask.
“I might,” he says. “But it’ll have to wait until dinner.”
He eyes the dresses on the bed, and I shake my head. “If you think I’m dressing up for you, you’re delusional.”
“Do you have something against nice clothes?”
I take a step towards him, summoning up all my strength, all my resolve. “I’m not your doll. I’d rather walk around naked than dress up in anything you choose.”
He raises a brow. “If you insist.”
I blanche. “I…”
“See?” he laughs. “Stop fighting me, Willow. You can’t win.”
He heads for the door, but stops at the threshold and looks back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late.”
Eleven fucking months of training, and standing in front of Leo makes me feel like I’m back at day one.
But I can’t give up.
Leo wants me to earn the name Viktoria Mikhailov?
Fine. Challenge accepted.
7
LEO
I follow the smell of cigars to where Jax and Gaiman are sitting on the porch.
“Want one?” Jax offers.
“I’m good.”
“Nervous about tonight?” Jax asks.
I glare at him. “It’s just business.”
He smirks. “Wish I had business like that. Lucky bastard.”
He’s ignoring his cigar now, drumming his fingers on his legs. Gaiman won’t even look at me, but he sighs.
“What’s the bet?” I ask.
Jax practically leaps out of his seat. “How the fuck did you know?”
“I know everything, sobrat.”