“Is it true?” I whisper, holding back tears with all my might.
“What’s true, little one?” Dima steps closer to me.
“That you’re the son of Gromov… of Grom?”
“You’re Gromov,” I mutter, confused, still not believing what I’ve just learned.
“Son of my father’s competitor. The son he sent—so he could use me for revenge. It all fits. Oh, God.”
I cover trembling lips with my fingers, feeling hot tears streak down my cheeks.
“Angel,” Dima embraces me, enveloping me with his scent—but I push him away.
“You used me! You…—I can’t breathe. I place my hand on my chest to calm my pounding heart, but it doesn’t help.
“Don’t come near me. Never even look at me again!”
“Angel, I love you,” Dima says.
“You’re a monster, and monsters can’t love,” I answer with a hoarse voice.