I will not betray my family.
But the devil in front of me has eyes that beckon.
It’s more than just Aleks’s masculine beauty. It’s his confidence, his strength, his power. It’s everything that I’ve dreamed of while lying in bed next to the quiet, boring men I thought were all I was allowed to ask for.
I denied it to Mia before, but of course I chose safe men. Because safe is easy. Safe is safe.
Rain batters against him, soaking through his shirt. The contours of his chest become more visible through the wet fabric. His broad shoulders. His chiseled chest.
But it’s hard to focus on anything with his predatory eyes on me.
“Don’t flatter yourself that I want you,” I say, trying to infuse strength into my tone. “It doesn’t mean anything. It won’t last long.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” he rasps somberly. “But I can’t stop fucking wanting you.”
My jaw almost drops. It might be the first time he’s ever said anything of the sort. Ever admitted that the thoughts in my head aren’t crazy.
This might be crazy, yes—this mad passion, this unreasonable obsession, this stupid fake marriage—but I’m not crazy for thinking it exists. It’s real.
But I would be crazy if I let it continue.
I should leave. Run, don’t walk. The rain is cold and I’m starting to shiver. But I don’t want to turn my back on him.
I step out from under the shelter of the tree. “Jesus,” I gasp, shivering. “The rain is freezing. Aren’t you cold?”
He shakes his head. “They train it out of you.”
“The cold?”
“The feeling.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means you should go inside,” he sighs. “Before you get sick.”
“And I suppose you don’t catch colds, do you?” I ask. “That’d be too human for you.”
“They train that out of you, too.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Sometimes, you don’t seem real to me.”
“I feel the exact same about you.”
“Like that!” I exclaim. “What the hell does that mean? Who says cryptic things like that every second of every goddamn day?”
Aleks just sighs again. “Come,” he says. “Let’s go back.”
We walk up the path towards the house in silence. I try to act like the chill isn’t bothering me. I try to be immune, just like Aleks. But my teeth are chattering by the time we get inside.
The moment the door is shut, Aleks starts stripping down. He removes his shirt first, discarding it on his tiled floors. Then he starts unbuttoning his pants.
“What are you doing?” I ask in alarm.
“What does it look like I’m doing? You better get out of those clothes, too.”
“I’ll wait,” I say. “You do realize the maids are around, don’t you?”
He raises his eyebrows. “It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”
I frown despite myself.
He notices. “Something wrong, Olivia?”
“Of course not,” I snap. “I don’t care who’s seen you naked. It’s none of my business anyway.”
“Then why do you look like a jealous wife?”
My eyes fall to his boxer briefs, but I pull them up almost immediately. He’s well-endowed to begin with, but with soaking wet briefs… well, it makes concentrating on the task at hand really hard. No pun intended.
“I am not jealous. Nor am I your wife, remember? Not in any way that matters.”
He pauses, still dripping rain, and fixes me with a somber, dark-eyed look. “You’re mine in every way that matters, Olivia Makarova.”
I recoil, as if from the words themselves—right in time to get whacked in the back of the head with the as a maid comes bustling through. She screams, not expecting us.
“Oh! I am so sorry, sir—”
“Don’t worry, Megan,” he says with a familiarity that makes my skin crawl. “Just got caught in the downpour.”
“I’ll get you something to dry off with, sir.”
She heads out without so much as acknowledging me. We stand in awkward silence—awkward for me, at least—until she reappears with a single fluffy white towel. I’m the one who needs it more, seeing as how I’m still dressed in this wet rag, but she hands it over to Aleks.
“Thank you, Megan,” he says as he takes it. “You can go.”
“Oh. Are you sure? Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you. Mrs. Makarova and I will be just fine.”
Megan bites seductively at her lip for an unnecessarily long time before finally curtsying—people still do that?—and going back out the way she came without ever bothering to spare a glance in my direction.
Aleks dabs at himself, then offers the towel to me. I cross my arms and refuse it. Stubborn, I know, but I don’t want his pity or his condescension.
He just shrugs and slings it on the back of a nearby chair.
I open my mouth to tell him not to call me “Mrs. Makarova” ever again. What comes out instead is, “Have you fucked her?”
Aleks laughs as if I said something funny. “Would it matter to you if I had?”
“No,” I lie. “Just curious. Answer the question.”
I hate that I care. I hate that I’m pushing this stupid topic when he’s obviously not interested in giving me a straight answer.
But something about the girl’s body language gives up the goose. I know the answer before he says anything.
“Never mind,” I snap. “I don’t give a shit who you’ve fucked in the past.” I hesitate, then add, “But…”
Aleks arches a brow. “But what?”
“But it is my business who you fuck now,” I blurt out.
He must think I’m a damn comedian, because he laughs again. “Is that so, little lamb?”
“You stole me away from my life and locked me up here in the midst of yours. I don’t have a career anymore because of you. I don’t have a shot at a love life, either. Because of you. So if I have to suffer through this year from hell, then you have to make sacrifices, too. I want compensation.”
“Name your price.”
“If I don’t get to have sex… then neither do you.”
He considers that for a moment. “Is fucking a big priority for you, kiska? Because I can fix that. Simply say the word.”
“That’s not what I want,” I say with a shudder—not because I don’t want that, but because of just how badly I do. “I just want this to be… fair.”
“You’re not in much of a position to enforce any demands,” he drawls.
“Argh!” I shriek, wanting to tear my hair out. He makes me feel like I’m short-circuiting. Every emotion at once, anger and frustration and lust and hatred and safety and lo—no, not love. Definitely not love. “You… you are just…”
He waits for me to find the right word, but when I come up blank, he just offers me a sympathetic smile. “There’s only one way I’ll agree to your terms, Olivia.”
I go still, waiting for him to tell me what it’ll cost.
“You have to admit that you want me. Despite everything you know about me,” he says. “I want to hear you tell me the truth.”
I shake my head. “I don’t.”
He looks not mad, but disappointed. “Then I think you need to go back up to your room.”
The way he says it catches my attention. I feel my body shake as I glance to the door that Megan disappeared through. “Why? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “I think I might just go and see where Megan is.”
My chest rises up and down, up and down. I’m flushed with anger, but I will not sacrifice my pride for his benefit. He’ll probably only laugh in my face, anyway.
And when I feel my bottom lip start to quiver, I know he’s right: it’s time for me to go.
I leave the towel sitting on the armchair and turn my back on him. As I walk away, I wait for him to stop me.
But he doesn’t.
