Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Ah! No!”
A woman yells, and then footsteps rush away.
“Wait,” I call out. “Mila?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Wait! I need to get dressed.” At least she didn’t see me naked, just the gun, and then she was running. I hate the idea of anyone other than Lia seeing me like this. “Can you face the wall?”
She snorts as if to say, We will be married soon. Why does it matter? But then she says, “Okay, sure.”
I wrap a towel around my waist just in case and then quickly get changed as she stands at the wall. She’s in her underwear, I realize, what’s supposed to be sexy lingerie. I feel like a traitor, even being in the same room as her.
Once I’ve thrown on some clothes, I return to the en suite and grab a robe.
“Here, put this on,” I tell her.
She takes it, putting it on, as I purposefully avert my gaze. “Don’t you want me?” she says quietly, sounding like her voice is about to break.
“I don’t know you, Mila,” I say, dodging the question.
She raises her hand like she’s going to touch me, but she looks scared, like she doesn’t want to do it. “You could get to know me, baby…”
“Mila.” I take a step back. “Did your father tell you to come here and do this?”
Her lip trembles, and suddenly, she bursts into tears. Dropping into the chair in the corner of the room, she’s bawling her eyes out, and I stand there like an ass, no clue what to do.
“Tell me?” she says, wiping her cheeks. “Is that what you think Nikolai Petrov does? Tells people to do things? Then, if they don’t, it’s just… just A-okay?”
She breaks down again, burying her face in her hands.
I go to the chair and kneel beside her, careful not to touch her. It’s a surreal thing to think, but the last thing I need is for my fiancée to fall in love with me. “Your father told you to dress in lingerie and give yourself to a man you don’t know. He doesn’t sound like a good man. I know something about that, Mila. Maybe I can help you.”
“Help me?” she says.
Part of me wants to tell her that I’ve got no intention of marrying her—that I can save her. I almost say it, almost give her that hope. But then it hits me like a truck. What if I’m lying? What if I tell her that we don’t have to get married… but then we do? Then I’ve made her believe there’s a way out of this, a light she can walk toward, when there’s still only darkness.
I almost say, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we don’t have to do this. But I can’t. That would make me just as bad as my father. Saying things I don’t mean. Using people. Trying to twist reality as though I’m better than everyone else. But the blunt, cold fact is, if I don’t find a way out of this, I will have to marry her. Goddamn it. What about Lia? But I have to think about the city.
“I’m sorry you were pushed into this. This isn’t something I want either. If it were up to me we wouldn’t have to get married, but I can make your life here comfortable,” I say instead, and her face drops. I can tell she was expecting much more. “You don’t have to suffer. And—” I hesitate. What do I think I can say, exactly, to make this all somehow better? “You’ll have the best of everything.”
She looks at me coldly. “I’ve always had the best of everything. And the worst.” She sighs darkly. “God, I sound… I don’t care how I sound.”
She stands up abruptly, heading for the door, making me feel damn incompetent. But I just have to hope I did the right thing, or maybe, told the right lie. I said I’d make her comfortable. But I can’t promise either her or myself that our lives will be comfortable.
When we’re at parties together, when we’re smiling for the Bratva crowds, pretending to be in love, will either of us be comfortable then? Could we even dream of being happy?
When she’s gone, I head into the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face. My father died less than seventy-two hours ago. My world suddenly has become far more dangerous, with far more enemies and responsibilities.
Yet all I can think about is my curvy painter and all the things I want to do to her, with her, for her. I just need to keep my head down, behave warmly to Mila when other people are around, and try to forget Lia. Is that even possible?
CHAPTER 6
DAHLIA
For three days, life returns to something like normalcy. Newspapers stop running stories about Mr. Konstantin, except for a few small pieces about his funeral, and people stop gossiping about him at work. I know I should probably take the paint supplies home, but there’s something peaceful about the half-finished room I’m working in. I make a little more progress each day I go in there, and Dimitri was telling the truth. Nobody moves my paintings or messes with my stuff.