His expression sharpens, and a tinge of strange emotion ignites in his light eyes for a fraction of a second. “That’s where you’re wrong. I never cast you aside. You’re doing that yourself.”
“Well, excuse me if I don’t want to be the other woman.”
“The only other woman in this equation is Kristina.”
“But she’s the one who’ll be your wife!” My vision blurs, and I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
Why do I get riled up this easily? Why can’t I be as detached as he is while he’s ripping my chest open?
Just why?
“Is that what you want to be? My wife?”
My lips part, and his words do a strange thing to my bleeding heart. The gaping wound slowly closes as if it’s been touched by a magic wand, and that’s fucked up, because I know for a fact that he’s just throwing me a bone right now.
I always knew Kirill excelled at mental torture. I just didn’t realize I’d be on the receiving end one day.
This is just too cruel.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” I sniffle.
“When have I ever lied to you?” He steps closer, killing the distance between us, and wraps his hand around my waist even as I push at his chest. “Answer the question, Sasha, do you want to be my wife?”
My fight wanes, partly due to his words and partly because I’m breathing his cedar and woods scent with each inhale. I didn’t realize how much I missed it and him until right now.
My fingers curl into his jacket as I take his face in. He’s so close that I see my reflection in his glasses—vulnerable and stupidly hopeful. But I still hold on to him, to the damn optimism and the smokescreen of happiness.
This is all I have left, and believing in the half-full part is better than wallowing in misery.
“If I say yes, will you make it happen?” I whisper.
A smile lifts his lips. It’s not cruel or condescending. It’s not sadistic or cunning. It’s…triumphant. Happy, even.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen this expression on Kirill’s face, and I don’t know why that makes me want to smile back.
His free hand strokes my cheek, and I instinctively lean into his touch, then it lowers to my neck, and he wraps his fingers around it as he whispers in my ear, “Fucking mine.”
He releases me as quickly as he grabbed me. “I’ll be back.”
I stare, dumbfounded, as the door closes behind him.
Once he’s out of sight, I run toward it and bang on the stupid metal. “You can’t keep locking me up, Kirill! Let me go!!”
No reply comes. I continue hitting the door for a few more minutes until my fists and legs ache. Then I hit my head against it.
What the hell was I thinking?
The fact that I even suggested being his wife is an anomaly in and of itself, but to also be rejected so subtly makes me want to scream.
Kirill is definitely a master of manipulation, because I can already feel the mental toll of this situation.
Damn it.
Damn it.
What if he keeps me here forever, and then I have to live through being his mistress?
Oh, God.
I won’t be able to survive that.
I straighten. No. I’m getting out of here no matter what.
The next time he returns, I’ll attack him and run away. If he doesn’t want that, then he shouldn’t have imprisoned me.
The question is, however, what if he doesn’t come back anytime soon?
Just when I think I’ll start hitting my head against the door again, it opens.
Exactly two days later.
I jump up from the sofa and grab my chosen object of attack—a heavy vase—and run to the door. My feet come to a halt when Kirill walks in with an older man while rolling a suitcase.
The vase remains suspended in midair. Obviously, I lost the element of surprise, but that’s only because I’ve been taken completely aback.
Kirill is dressed in a dashing tuxedo, his hair is styled to perfection, and his eyes shine with a rare gleam behind the spotless glasses.
My arm loses strength, and I let it and the vase fall to my side. “What’s…going on?”
“Wait here,” Kirill tells the man who’s dressed in a smart suit, has a small belly, and is wearing strong aftershave that I can smell from here. He’s also carrying a briefcase like some sort of accountant.
After he nods, Kirill walks to my side and grabs me by the arm. I don’t have time to protest as he drags me and the suitcase to the adjoining bedroom and closes the door.
I twist my arm free and jump away from him, my mind racing with countless options. I can still hit him now and run. That man outside didn’t look strong enough, so I can probably handle him— “You should have everything you need here.” He pushes the suitcase in my direction. “Make it quick.”
Curiosity gnaws at me, but I don’t touch it. “What’s in there?”
“A wedding dress. Lingerie. Some makeup in case you need it.” He reaches into his jacket and then retrieves a black velvet box.
My heart nearly stops when he opens it, revealing two rings. One is a simple band for a man and the other is a gorgeous gold solitaire with a huge green rock on top.
The vase falls and hits the mattress as Kirill walks in my direction.
I think I’m going to hyperventilate.
No, I am hyperventilating.
Is this a dream?
Because if it is, then it’s too cruel.
“These took longer than I preferred.” He pulls out the ring, and tears gather in my eyes.
Oh, God.
On the inside of the green ring, ‘Kirill’s’ is engraved. As for the band, it says, ‘Sasha’s,’ both done in cursive. “K-Kirill…what…？”
“You asked me if I could make it happen.” He takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it. “I’m making it happen.”
“But what about Kristina? Igor? The alliance? Your position—”
“Shh.” He places a finger on my mouth. “Don’t worry your head about any of that. Just get changed…unless you want to get married looking like this?”
I shake my head frantically. “I’ll get changed… Just give me a moment.”
A rare grin curves his lips. “Does that mean you agree to marry me, Solnyshko?”
“I didn’t know I had a choice.” Besides, he just proved that he chose me over Kristina, so why can’t I choose him?
“You don’t, so I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
I smile, and he brushes his lips against mine, then possessively bites the lower one before he leaves and closes the door.
He’s really an asshole.
And I’m marrying this asshole.
Oh my God. I’m actually marrying Kirill.
Maybe I should think about this more or say no until I can process the consequences. If I marry Kirill, I can’t be his guard anymore, and I have to be a woman. If this gets out, then both of us will be in trouble and…
I shake my head and open the suitcase.
You know what? I don’t care. I’ve always made decisions for other people’s sake. This is the only chance I’ve gotten to have something for myself.
Even my heart, which was battered to near death not too long ago, has stitched itself back together again and is already chanting Kirill’s name.