Demyan hesitates a moment, his gaze sweeping over me as he takes in the cup waiting for him. “What’s this?”
I force a smile. “We’ll call it a peace offering. Sit, Demyan. Please?”
He does, his face set, his body stiff, like he’s expecting an argument. Maybe he’ll get one. I don’t want to argue, though. I want to talk this out, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get it through to him what it is I want and how what he’s doing is affecting me.
“It’s too fucking early to argue,” he says in Russian.
I stick to English. “Or it’s too late. I don’t want an argument either, but I need you to hear me, see me, and, more importantly, understand me and what it is I want and need. You’re happy with Erin, right?”
His eyes narrow. “Right.”
“You’re stubborn, set, and those things almost ruined it. You’re lucky she’s so wonderful, so willing to see both sides. Can you take a leaf from her book?”
Demyan grunts and takes a sip of his coffee. “I don’t need to do that. I see your side, and I reject it. You’re being emotional. You’re vulnerable, and Ilya?—”
“He didn’t come in and take advantage of me. Quite the opposite. He was respectful, tried to say no when I pushed for a yes.”
I don’t add the catalyst of Santo hitting on me into this. He’ll take that as another thing to hold up to show Ilya as incompetent, which he isn’t. At all.
“You’re lonely. Max?—”
“Ilya is so respectful of Max’s memory, of my feelings, and he never, ever overstepped. But the thing is, I like him. I want to be with him. And you need to be okay with me seeing Ilya, or I’llleave. And if I leave under such circumstances, then I don’t see how we can mend anything.”
For a long moment, Demyan’s silent.
“Even though Melor and Simonov are both still out there and Ilya’s bratva is in shambles? You’d risk that?”
“Are you turning your back on him?” I ask.
A muscle works in his jaw. “He knows where he stands.”
My stomach turns. “Ilya’s helped you, always. He’s taken a bullet for you while trying to save Erin from being taken?—”
“Another failure.”
I glare at him. “She took off on her own. She ignored him and ran. Do you know how I know that? Not Ilya. Ilya’s a staunch defender of you and your wife. He’s loyal. He said he failed. No, I know what happened because Erin told me. The world isn’t black and white. There are nuances.”
“So?”
I take a breath and smooth my hands flat on the kitchen table between us. “So I’m telling you that even if Ilya’s bratva is falling apart and danger lurks in every corner, I want to be with him. My relationship with Ilya means that much to me.”
Demyan winces. “How the fuck am I meant to be okay with all this? You’re my sister. He was my friend.”
“He stillisyour friend. Whether you choose to take the friendship or not, it’s there. And we both know that. As for being okay with it, you don’t have to be, not yet. It’s a big thing, I know. And I’m not unsympathetic to you or your emotions.
“But Demyan,” I say softly. “At the end of the day, this is my relationship and happiness, not yours. You do what you need to do with your relationship with your best friend, but you have your happiness with Erin. What I do doesn’t impact that, and you arranging a marriage won’t make me happy. It’ll make me resent you. Although, to be fair, I wouldn’t be here by then.”
“I know you think you care for him?—”
“Not think,” I say. “I know.”
“But, Angel, I’m meant to protect you, and I can’t if you leave.”
“I’m a grown woman, one who can make her own decisions, and I’m not walking into anything thinking I’m safe or he’s safe. Because I know the truth. Nothing and no one are safe. You know I know that. Better than anyone. I’ll see him, whether you agree or not. It’s going to come down to whether we end up talking or not.”
Demyan finishes his coffee then stares down into the bottom of the cup.
Finally, he sighs. “You’re right. I can’t control you.”
