Page 77 of Gilded in Blood

The fact that she repeated our account instead of exposing me… it has to mean something. I owe her the truth.

I wait in the hallway for what feels like hours until Milana finally emerges. She looks exhausted, eyes red from crying, but she walks straight past me without a word.

I follow her outside. “Hey.”

She turns to look at me, and the ice in her eyes stops me dead. For a moment, I forget what I was going to say.

“You had me worried,” I say, forcing a weak smile. “I was starting to think they’d decided to keep you overnight.”

Nothing. Not even the ghost of a smile. She just looks at me like she doesn’t recognize the man standing in front of her.

“I'm tired,” she says quietly. “Please just take me home.”

The exhaustion in her voice guts me. I step out to the curb and raise a hand. A yellow cab pulls over almost immediately.

I open the rear door for her, and when I reach out to steady her as she gets in, she recoils.

“I’m fine.” The words are clipped.

I deserve every bit of them. I let my hand fall.

I slide in beside her, leaving as much space between us as the seat allows.

The drive back to the penthouse is quiet.

I keep stealing glances at her, but she won't look at me, just stares out the window, arms wrapped around herself.

Whatever existed between us before tonight is gone.

If there’s any chance of getting even a fraction of it back, there’s only one thing left to do. Tell her everything.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Kirill

By the time we step out of the elevator and into the apartment, the silence has become another person standing between us.

The kitchen is spotless. There’s no blood on the floor. No shattered glass. No trace of the chaos that unfolded here just a few hours ago.

On the way to the station, I’d texted one of my men and told him to have the place professionally cleaned before we got back. He’d done his job well.

She slips off her shoes without looking at me. “I’m going to clean up,” she says quietly.

I nod. “Okay.” I hesitate. “When you’re done… we should talk.”

She gives a small nod and walks away without another word.

While she’s in the bathroom, I pull out my phone and order takeout from the first decent restaurant I find. Food is the last thing on my mind, but she’s had one hell of a day. She needs to eat.

While I wait, I head to my bathroom to clean up and change into fresh clothes.

By the time I come back out, the food has already arrived. The concierge calls to let me know the delivery is downstairs. I head to the lobby, collect it, and bring it back up to plate everything in the kitchen.

The sound of footsteps makes me look up.

Milana walks in.

Her hair is still damp from her shower, falling over the shoulders of an oversized T-shirt. She’s wearing loose pajama pants instead of the tiny shorts she’s worn around me every day since we arrived.