Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I nod. He kisses Marissa on the cheek then leaves abruptly. Marissa follows behind us. She has something to say to me.
“Go ahead of me,” I tell Caroline. She nods and does what I say. Marissa immediately pounces when Caroline is several paces ahead.
“You have to woo her, you know,” she says, giving me a piercing look. Honest to God, Nicolai needs to keep a better handle on his wife. If she were mine…
“I don’t need your advice, Marissa,” I tell her. “Mind your own fucking business.”
“This is my business,” she says, then to my shock, she grabs my arm to stop me. “Let me ask you a question, Tomas.”
I will have to talk to Nicolai. She oversteps.
“Go on,” I spit out, not even bothering to attempt to hide my anger.
“Would you prefer to be wedded to a woman who adores the ground you walk on? Who does what you ask without question, because she’s eager to please you? Or would you prefer to be married to a cold, detached woman who only does what you say out of fear of punishment?”
“It doesn’t matter to me,” I tell her honestly. “All I care about is that she obeys me.”
Her eyes cloud and she purses her lips. “That isn’t true, and you know it. If you’d only take the time to really win her, to really get to know who she is and how she ticks, you may find that she is far easier to get along with than if you force her hand.”
“I don’t remember asking you,” I tell her, pulling away. “Now no more of this or I’ll call Nicolai.”
“Just think about it!” she yells down the hall as I march toward my wife. “Please, just think about it.”
And dammit, I can’t help but do just that.
Goddamn Marissa.
Chapter 6
Caroline
I have no idea what Marissa said to him, but his eyes are narrow and that stern brow of his is drawn when he takes my arm, firmer than before. “I’ve ordered our bags taken to the car,” he says. “We’ve got a ride to the airport.”
“Yes. What was she saying to you?”
His lips thin and his jaw firms, and a cloud passes over his features. “None of your business.”
“Alrighty then,” I mutter. This guy is a barrel of laughs. I’ve had the briefest moments of fleeting thoughts that I might actually learn to fall for him one day… a little. He’s hot as hell, and maybe will make a devoted husband. And hell, the way he commands my body with the faintest touch or wisp of seduction.
But just as soon as the idea comes to me, I dismiss it.
There’s no way I’ll fall for a man like him. He’s a veritable caveman like my brother, and I despise my brother almost as much as Andros.
I barely even see where we’re going until I realize we’re exiting, and a car idles at the curb waiting for us.
“Tomas!” One of the men who was in the dining room earlier stands nearby, his phone up to his ear. He shuts it off and gestures for Tomas to join him.
“Stay here,” he orders. And then he’s gone, though not far.
I wonder what Boston will be like. I’ve always wanted to visit but I’ve never been allowed to leave our home in San Diego. I wonder how much Tomas will allow me to explore.
I sigh and close my eyes, leaning against the car, as Tomas speaks to his friend, willing myself to be anywhere but here. I hate being out of control like this and at the mercy of another. It grates against everything I stand for. I start when I hear footsteps approach, and step instinctively closer to the door of the car when I see it isn’t Tomas but one of my brother’s men.
I know instinctively that Tomas considers me his, now, and will not take kindly to anyone speaking to me. But he’s deep in conversation with his friend, his back to us, and doesn’t notice. “Get away,” I say.
“There you are,” he says, ignoring me. I don’t even know this one’s name. A newer recruit, he works under Andros, but that’s all I know about him. He’s thin and lithe with oily blond hair and a scraggly beard, his green eyes both hungry and beady. I wonder what he’s doing here. I don’t know all the ways of the Bratva, how the others should treat a man of a leader, but I know he shouldn’t be here. He’s bold as hell coming anywhere near me.
“Andros wants a picture,” he says.
“Tell him to go to hell. I’m married now.” It’s the first time since I took my vows that I actually feel almost pleased to say this.
But the man pulls out a phone and flicks it on, then raises it. The son of a bitch isn’t giving anything to Andros. On instinct I flip him off. Instantly, he turns livid, his eyes narrowed in anger and he launches at me, his fist raised. I cringe and scream blocking my face, prepared for the attack.