Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Fuck and murder vibes.
He sits back as if nothing just happened.
“Natalya’s disappearance is an embarrassment both for me and for her father. Marrying you will help soften some of that blow. You will be our excuse for why this deal fell through. We will stay together for two years, and you will be compensated commensurate with your time and your effort. I will treat you well, provided you obey my rules and do not embarrass me, and I will grant you a lucrative and easy divorce when the time comes. This is a business deal, and nothing more.”
My core throbs with an eager intensity. I’m still a little stuck on the whole spanking thing. But I force the image of him roughly taking me from my head and try to focus on what he’s saying.
Marriage. Two years. Saving face.
Lucrative.
Compensation.
I look at the bills. I glance into the kitchen and the empty refrigerator. I think of Mom’s puffy eyes, her faraway and lonely stare, her aching hips as she shuffles over to the church once a week just to have some time away from her misery and grief.
I look back at Valentin.
“There’s absolutely no way I’m ever going to marry you,” I tell him.
His eyebrows raise as if he’s surprised, but how could this psychopath have actually thought this would work? People don’t just get married like this. Much less to total freaking strangers, who just might be legitimately unhinged.
The guy pulled a gun on me last time.
How can I ever marry a man like that? How could I ever be safe with him?
I’m not safe, not at all, especially not right now.
I push back from the table and stand. I put some distance between us, afraid of what he might do, but he doesn’t seem particularly upset by my response.
“I’m offering to take care of you, malishka. All of your debts will be gone. Any extra money you wish will be yours. Anything your mother might need—”
I hold up a hand. “How do you know about my debts?”
His eyebrows arch as he looks down at the stack of bills. “I guessed.”
“My financial situation is not your business, okay? You’re talking about marriage. You’re not asking me to the prom. You’re not requesting a weekend of my time. This is marriage for two freaking years to a guy that pulled a gun on me and also threatened to spank me like I’m a child.”
“I find spankings are very effective.” His lips curl slightly in a devilish smirk.
I hate myself for finding that attractive. I could scream right now with frustration, but I bottle it up and shove it all down inside.
“No, thank you. I’m not for sale. I’m not going to marry myself off to some rich man just to take care of my family. I have a job. We’ll figure this out on our own.” I gesture at the door. “Please leave. And don’t come back.”
He gives me a long, hard look. It’s more curious than upset. Slowly, he gets to his feet, leaning his palms on the table. “If you reconsider, here is how to contact me.” He puts a business card on top of the stack of bills.
“Yeah, no thanks.” I walk to the door and open it. “It was great talking to you. Let’s never, ever do this again.”
He pauses as he moves past me. His body is so close to mine and a shiver runs down my spine despite myself. I smell grass and something deep and musky, his cologne or deodorant, or just the smell of his laundry soap. I don’t know, and I don’t care.
I’d wrap myself in wet sheets and breathe until I passed out if they smelled like him.
“I can make your problems go away, malishka.”
“I have a feeling that comes with more strings than I’d like. And stop calling me that. I don’t even know you.”
“I think you will know me soon.” He turns away, about to leave.
When my mother appears on the sidewalk.
She stops short, her dark eyebrows raised high. She’s wearing forest green walking pants and a navy-blue fleece. Her black hair is streaked with white and it’s pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looks from me to Valentin and back again.
“Mrs. Vardanyan,” Valentin says with a polite nod as he walks past her, hands shoved into his pocket.
“Uh, hello,” she says and watches him go with a puzzled frown. She turns to me. “Who was that?”
“Nobody, Momma. Come inside.”
“He looked like trouble.” She shakes her head as she comes up the stoop. “I think that man was trouble. Was he from the banks?”
“No banks, Mama. He was a friend of Merrick’s, that’s all.”
“The painter man from your job? I don’t like that, not one bit.”
“Mama-jan, please, it’s nothing, let it go.”
She grabs my arm once the door’s closed. The panic in her eyes makes me pause in surprise as her grip tightens. “Promise me you won’t get involved with a man like that, Karine-jan. I know men like him. We left Baltimore to get far away from them. Promise me.”