Kiss A Villain: A Dark MM Mafia Romance by Mia Darling

Author:Mia Darling [Darling, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-28T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

YARIK

Kirill. Kirill.

“Kirill—” I gasped, jerking upright.

“Easy now.” Someone touched my upper arm, using just enough pressure to hold me in place where I was sprawled out, face down on my own bed. I only knew it was mine because I could smell the lingering trace of my body wash on the sheets. But the hand on my arm . . . I didn’t recognize the voice or the touch. Was she a doctor? The devil come to finish me off? Hard to tell when I felt like death warmed over. When I didn’t respond, she awkwardly added, “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

“’m fine.” I wasn’t. Not even a little bit. I drew my free arm under my chest, ready to push up onto my elbow, but the hand on my bicep didn’t budge. Irritation gritted my teeth as I tried to shake her off. “Let me go.”

“Please, Mr. Volkov. Just wait before you⁠—”

Couldn’t wait.

Had to find Kirill.

A low groan spilled out of me as I scraped together the last of my strength and rolled from the bed.

Oh. Oh, bloody fucking hell.

Red-hot pain flashed through each of my nerve endings, lighting me up like a fireworks display. Gasping, I shot out a desperate hand to cling to the nearest bedpost. Swear to God, it didn’t even help. The room was spinning. Squeezing my eyes shut, I slumped against the post and willed myself not to throw up all over my shoes.

Hoarsely, I croaked, “Where is he?”

“Who, Mr. Volkov? Your father?”

Fuck no.

Not him.

“Kirill,” I rasped as a tremor wracked my body. “Where is he?”

“Oh. Well. I haven’t seen him, but I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. It’s almost four in the morning.”

So, he’d fled like a coward.

Eight years of friendship pissed down the drain after an hour-long descent into Hell. I’d expected more, honestly. Thought I’d at least wake up to find him by my bedside, utterly distraught over what he’d done to me in Father’s study. But I was alone in this room, in this bed—the kind of alone that sank into your bones and rattled your soul.

He’d left me to fucking rot.

I was in so much pain, bile rose like a tidal wave every time I so much as inhaled. And, sure, the constant stream of nausea should have been reason number one to do what the doctor said and take it easy. Should have, maybe, but beneath endless layers of agony, a single flame of fury danced atop a bed of dry kindling, threatening to destroy everything in its path. Did he think that I wouldn’t go after him? That he’d be free of me so long as he kept out of sight?

He’d hurt me.

Betrayed me.

Looked me right in the fucking eye and acted like what I wanted meant nothing. Acted like I meant nothing. He’d treated me that way, all right. Tied me up, ignored my pleas, and made my bloody father proud.

“Breathe, Mr. Volkov. You’re hyperventilating⁠—”

Soft little Yaroslav. So stupid, so dumb.

So broken.

“I really think you ought to .

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