When I Hurt (Vassi and Seri 2: Russian Stepbrother Romance) by Marian Tee Page A

mind. “I, umm, decided dating him would be a smokescreen.” When Vassi shot her a frowning look, she hurriedly added, “I just thought it would make everyone less likely to think about us…doing…things…if I was dating another guy.” She trailed off lamely afterwards and as she waited for Vassi’s reaction, she made a mental note to keep track of her lies, which she seemed unable to stop spouting every few seconds.
    “Seri?”
    She jerked up. “Y-yes?” Whenever any of her boys called her by her first name, she knew it could only mean one thing.
    “Get rid of him.”
    She was in trouble.
    More to the point, she had done something her boys didn’t like, and they never hesitated to make her pay for it.
    Like now.
    She thought about the deal she made with Maximilian. Even if he did seem to be a nice guy after all, she also knew that he still wouldn’t hesitate to make good on his threat if she backed out.
    Gulping, she told Vassi weakly, “Umm…I can’t.”
    Vassi turned her face towards her, demanding, “What do you mean you can’t ?”
    “I…um…don’t want to hurt him.”
    “So you’d rather hurt me?”
    Her eyes widened.
    A moment later, Vassi’s eyes widened, too, and it was as if he had only realized what he had just said. “Actually---”
    She shook her head vehemently, not wanting to give him a chance to take the words back, and murmured unevenly, “Vassi, are you saying… you’re jealous ?” She waited with bated breath for his answer, but when he only smirked, she knew that what she thought she had seen – what she thought he had been tacitly admitting – was merely a product of wishful thinking.
    And when Vassi drawled offhandedly, “If you want me to say I’m jealous, I will,” it was like having salt rubbed in her wound.
    “You could have just lied,” she grumbled.
    When Vassi suddenly cupped her face, she stiffened, and when his captivating gaze sought hers, her heartbeat started to race again.
    “I am jealous, solnishka moya. More than you think possible.”
    Oh.
    Her body shuddered at his words, and she could almost – almost – allow herself to believe him, if not for the mocking gleam in his eyes.
    “Yeah, right,” she mumbled as she shook her face free of his hold.
    He let go of her with another chuckle, but he also ruffled her hair, saying, “Don’t be mad, leech. You know everything I do is only to make you smile.”
    “Hmph.”
    Pulling her back against him, he said pointedly, “Remember when you were in ninth grade and you were crying about failing French?”
    “Nope.” But she was lying. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and she remembered him trying to cheer her up by saying that supplementary French classes after school was actually a good thing if she thought about it.
    “How can you say that?” she had asked, sniffing.
    “Because I can sit in with you those times, and haven’t you always told me you wish I could be your classmate? Well, now you have your wish.”
    It had made crazy sense then, and it still made crazy sense now because---
    When she twisted around to look at him, Vassi’s gaze furrowed and he asked guardedly, “What is it?”
    Her chest squeezed as she looked at Vassi. Even in his shirt and sweat pants, he still looked extraordinarily gorgeous, like a perfect specimen of mankind. So much so , she thought helplessly, that even after all these years, she still found herself in need of the most sublime words to describe him.
    This man that was her stepbrother---
    This man that she loved---
    This man, who didn’t seem capable of ever loving her.
    Seri heard herself say, “Is it really impossible, Vassi?”
    “What is?”
    “You,” she said in a deliberately light voice, “falling in love with me.”
    “Ah.” But his gaze remained unreadable. “Why do you ask?” He raised a finger to her lips, tracing them, his touch agonizingly tender. “Is it because you still think you’re in love with me?”
    Her chest