Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) Nicole Fox (people reading books TXT) 📖

that admission doesn’t hurt me deeply. Like that little spark of hope I’d been nurturing never existed.

“Did he force himself on you?” Tamara asks. “Because so help me God, if he did, I will slice his cojones…”

I start to fumble for an answer, but before I can, Tamara’s phone pings again.

Honestly, I’m glad for the distraction. I really don’t want to get into the weeds of my relationship with Artem. It is—was, I correct mentally—too complicated, too confused, too filled with betrayal and regret for me to wade through by myself, let alone share it with someone else.

“Sorry,” Tamara says, picking her phone up again. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Weird of her to walk away to answer a call from some thirsty boy. Tam never cares about that kind of thing. “Kiss and tell” is her middle name.

But if she has gotten shy since the last time I saw her, that’s okay. I’m too tired to care one way or another.

I start eating the grapes, and now that the edge of my hunger has been sated, I feel a little more balanced, a little more capable of clarity. I can hear Tam pacing on the balcony outside and whispering rapid-fire.

She comes back in a few moments later. As soon as she sees me, she smiles. But again, there’s something in her face—an edge, a shadow—that troubles me.

“Sorry about that.”

“Tam,” I ask, “is everything all right?”

“Of course,” she says, with so much surprise that I find myself wondering if I’m just being paranoid. “Everything’s fine. It’s just…”

“A guy.”

“Right. A guy.”

“I’ve never seen you pay much attention to one man for too long,” I say. “Is this one different?”

She lets out a burst of laughter. “This one is definitely different.”

“Is it serious?”

Tamara nods. “He wants it to be,” she replies. “I just… I’m not so sure about him.”

“Hence the texts and calls,” I nod.

“Right,” she replies. “But enough about me. I can’t really deal with him right now. Not when my cousin needs me.”

I smile, feeling a warmth in my chest that I haven’t felt in a while. She sinks to her seat next to me and tucks her toes under my thigh.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through these past several weeks,” she says. “You’re like, my hero.”

“It’s been difficult,” I admit. It feels good to be honest. I’ve spent so many long days and nights putting on a brave face to spar with Artem.

Being truthful, being vulnerable—it’s a welcome change of pace.

“How did you get away from that bastard?”

It takes me a moment to realize that she’s talking about Artem. I jolt at the curse, but when you look at it from Tam’s perspective—he kidnapped me, killed my father, burned my house down, forced me to marry him… “bastard” starts to feel very appropriate indeed.

So why does it bother me?

Because he’s more than that to me.

“His father died,” I murmur. “And we were ambushed at this funeral.”

“No way.”

“We got to a safe house and… and…”

My words stall as I realize that I don’t want to explain the next part to her.

I don’t want to relive the moment that broke my trust in Artem. Mostly because, while it did break my trust in him, it hasn’t succeeded in breaking my desire for him.

I still want him.

I still miss him.

That’s the thing about falling—there are some cliffs you can’t climb back up from.

“Esme?”

I glance at Tamara. She’s staring at me curiously. “Sorry. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

“Of course,” she nods. “You look like you could use a nice, long sleep.”

The thought of a warm bed beckons me, but despite my exhaustion, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.

“I wish I could. But I have to get out of here, Tam,” I tell her. “I don’t want to put you at risk, too.”

She waves away my concerns. “I can handle myself. That door triple locks, baby. You think your Russian boy toy is the first crazy motherfucker that’s tried to bust in here? Nuh-uh.” She grins, then her expressions softens into sympathy. She reaches out and brushes back a lock of my hair. “I just want you make sure you’re okay, honey.”

My hand lands over my belly subconsciously, but I move it away before Tamara zones in on the gesture.

“I think you need to stay here with me, at least for a day or two,” she says. “You need a plan and a destination. Once you have that, then you can leave if that’s what you really want.”

I smile at her, incredibly grateful for how supportive she’s being. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Tamara gives me a sad smile as she reaches out and takes my hand. “Don’t thank me yet, cousin.”

“You let me in. That’s enough.”

Tamara actually looks a little emotional as she leans in and hugs me tight. When we pull apart again, my eyes are wet, too.

“I’m glad you came to me,” she says. She squeezes my hand and gets to her feet. “Why don’t you go to my room and get some sleep? I’m going to pop downtown and grab us some real food.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I protest.

“You look half starved, Esme,” Tamara insists. “The least I can do is send you off with a full tummy.”

I smile and nod. “Thanks, cuz.”

“Of course,” Tamara chuckles with a wink.

I stand up as she grabs a light faux-fur jacket and her bag. I walk her to the door, but at the threshold, she whirls around suddenly and pulls me in for a hug that I don’t expect.

“What was that for?” I ask with a confused smile.

Tamara shrugs. “For my peace of mind.”

I watch as she sashays out the door and down into the elevators before turning and locking the door behind me. She wasn’t kidding—there are three top-of-the-line locks on the door.

I’m half-asleep and getting sleepier with every step towards Tamara’s bedroom. I’m hoping for a few uninterrupted hours of no-dream slumber before I have to face tomorrow.

Before I have to decide what to do