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Lev would never hurt her, but he would hurt other people as easily as it was to kill a fly. Had he killed someone? If so, who and why?
A shiver ran down her spine, goosebumps rising on her skin. Why did he look so angry? Something must’ve happened.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a drink,” he said icily. There was no emotion in his voice. Not even fury. “It’s still early, why are you up?”
Zia ignored his question and asked another one of her own. “And the blood in your hands?”
Lev’s gaze lowered to his hand as if he had no idea they were stained with blood until she mentioned it. “This is nothing.”
Zia shook her head. “No, it is not nothing. Your hands are dripping with blood. Someone’s blood, and enough blood that could only come from killing or badly hurting someone.”
“I’m tired. You should come to bed soon, too,” Lev said simply. He walked toward her and then right past her as if she was a panicked woman nagging over nothing.
Zia felt her chest tighten as realization washed over her. She was married to the second son of the Nikolai mafia family.Her husband was the second in command. He was a criminal and killer. This was what she signed up for when she agreed to marry him.
He was a killer. He would kill and hurt more people than she could imagine, and she had no right to question him. This was the reality of the mafia, and Lev Nikolai is who she married.
Her breath caught in her throat. How had she never thought of that until now? She’d been relishing in the fact that he was handsome and rich, and she hadn’t once thought of the reality of what their marriage would entail. She would have to be okay with him being a killer, and she would have to accept that fact.
But what if she couldn’t? She knew she could not sleep next to him every night, not knowing how many people he’d killed before bedtime.
She had no idea if she could ever accept that, if she could accept him for who he truly was.
***
Dinner was silent, save for the clinking of forks and spoons on ceramic plates and the pounding of Zia’s heart.
Lev had been incredibly quiet since she confronted him about his whereabouts the night before. He hadn’t given her an answer yet, and for some reason, he’d been ignoring her existence as well.
She didn’t like it one bit. She already had enough going on trying to reconcile how their marriage would keep her shackled up to the ways of the mafia forever. The way he was acting wasn’t helping matters, either.
She threw a slice of cucumber in her mouth and chewed it loud enough for him to hear. Her exasperation rose to her throat when he didn’t even seem slightly bothered by it.
The air crackled with tension, and not in a good way.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” she finally asked, unable to keep up with the silent treatment. Cold shoulders weren’t her thing—she preferred to address things head-on.
Lev looked up from his phone. His face was as blank as a rock. “Keep what up?”
Zia sneered. Was he going to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about? She wasn’t going to let him do that. “Don’t play dumb with me. Where were you last night?”
“I told you I needed—”
Zia slammed her hand on the table. The glasses and plates rattled. “Don’t lie to me, Lev. I’m your wife.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he said with an indifferent tone. “I just don’t think it’s important enough for me to tell you.”
“Well, I think it is.” She pursed her lips. “My husband disappears from bed and returns hours later soaked in blood that wasn’t his. I need to know.”
“Fine.” Lev nodded and placed his phone on the table. Giving her his undivided attention, he said, “I met with Owen last night.”
Air stalled in her lungs. “My ex?”
“Yes.” His jaw ticked, but that was all the sign that she needed to know he was angry. “Safe to say he’s a complete asshole. No class, no shame, and no redeemable qualities.”
A cloud of shame fell over Zia because she’d once been in love with the classless, shameless, and irredeemable man that Lev had just described. It’d been weeks, but that didn’t stop the embarrassment.
“Did he do or say anything to you?”
