Terrible Beauty: Molotov Betrothal: Book 1 by Anna Zaires

Author:Anna Zaires [Zaires, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ♠ Mozaika Publications ♠

Chapter 13

Present Day, Location Unknown

Breaking eye contact with Alexei, I push up from the table in a sharp motion and stride over to the side of the boat, where I grip the wooden rail and stare out at the endless blue ocean, my chest heaving with uneven breaths. The memories press down on me, so heavy they suffocate me even after all these years.

My father killed my mother.

My brother killed my father.

I saw it all, and not a day has passed since that night during which I haven’t thought about it, haven’t remembered… whether consciously or in my nightmares.

Warm hands land on my shoulders from behind, strong thumbs digging into the tightly knotted muscles around my neck. It helps. The painful tension eases, the worst of the memories receding even as my spine goes rigid for a different reason… one that has nothing to do with that night.

“I’m sorry about what happened with your parents,” Alexei says softly, continuing the insidiously soothing massage. “I wish I’d known right away, but your brothers did a good job of covering it up.”

Yes, they did. As far as our family’s friends and acquaintances were concerned, my father died of a heart attack, and my mother perished in a car accident on the way to the hospital. And even these fake facts were kept out of the papers by the sheer force of my family’s influence, to cut down on unsavory speculation.

“How did you find out the truth then?” I ask, trying to ignore the effect his touch is having on me. “Was it through my therapist, as I suspected?”

“Yes.” There’s no remorse in his tone, no guilt at this terrible invasion of privacy. “I had to know what was happening with you, so I could decide what to do.”

I squint against the sunlight reflecting off the water. “And what did you decide?”

He steps closer, pressing his body against my back and hooking his hands on the rail on either side of me, once more caging me in his embrace. Resting his chin on top of my head, he murmurs, “I decided to give you more time. Time and space to heal.”

Yeah, sure. Because he’s such a saint. “You were just afraid I’d slit my wrists if you came near me.”

He’s silent for a beat before admitting quietly, “That too.”

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