Not wanting to drag Mariya away from her parents like a damn caveman so I can have her all to myself, we stay for brunch with our parents.
The atmosphere is still a bit tense from the bomb that was dropped, but I have to admit it went a hell of a lot better than I expected.
Uncle Alexei didn’t kill me, and I have a chance to make things work between Mariya and me.
That’s all I wanted. Just a chance.
I know the woman is stubborn, but still, I’m disappointed by the strong reaction she had when our parents said we have to give it six months.
My eyes rest on Mariya, who’s hardly touched the plate of food in front of her. I notice she’s not wearing her wedding ring, and it has a frown darkening my forehead.
Time to go home so we can talk without any interference from our families.
“Thanks for brunch,” I say as I rise to my feet. “It’s time for us to head home.”
Mariya keeps sitting as if she didn’t hear what I said.
“Mariya.” Her eyes dart to mine. “It’s time to go.”
There’s a flicker of an emotion I can’t place, she inhales deeply, then finally gets up. “Right.”
Our parents walk us to the front door, where her overnight bag is the only item waiting for us.
“Where’s the rest of your belongings?” I ask while picking up the bag.
“I’ll have everything sent over,” Uncle Alexei answers. He pulls Mariya into a hug and whispers something to her.
I take a moment to say goodbye to my parents, then place my hand on Mariya’s lower back. As we step out of the mansion, she moves away from me and glances back to wave at her parents before climbing into the passenger seat of my G-Wagon. I shut the door and place her overnight bag on the backseat.
I smile at our parents crowding the porch, then slide behind the steering wheel. Noticing Mariya hasn’t put on her safety belt, I lean into her and pull the strap over her chest. Her scent fills my lungs as I push in the clip. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, she looks flushed before she adjusts the strap. “I can do it myself.”
“I know.” I settle back in my seat and start the engine.
Finally, I don’t have to share her attention with anyone.
Lev and Ivan follow behind us in an SUV as I steer the vehicle toward the iron gates. Just as I turn the nose of the G-Wagon onto the street, Mariya asks, “Why didn’t you put up a fight?”
“There was nothing to fight about.”
Everything worked out in my favor.
“So you’re just going to go along with this charade?”
“It’s not a charade.”
Not by a long shot, baby.
I hear her huff but keep my eyes on the road ahead.
Another huff fills the air, then she mutters, “I didn’t take you for a coward.”
My eyebrow lifts as I slowly turn my gaze to her. “Careful.”
I might love the woman, but I won’t have her disrespecting me.
She throws a glare my way. “You let our parents decide your future. For the head of the mafia, that’s weak.”
Anger starts to simmer in my chest. “I didn’t let them decide shit.”
“Oh please,” she scoffs, glancing out the window. She crosses her arms over her chest, then aims a mocking expression at me. “Are you going to sit there and tell me you’re happy being stuck with me for six months?”
Christ!
I yank the steering wheel to the side of the road and bring the G-Wagon to a stop. Unbuckling myself, I turn to face Mariya, leaning dangerously close to her. “It won’t be for six months.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” A bitter-sounding chuckle escapes her, her eyes darkening. “How long are you planning to keep up the pretense before calling it quits?”
Plucking her purse from her lap, I open the damn thing and dig the ring out. I take hold of her left hand, and when she tries to yank away, I tighten my grip and shove the diamond back onto her finger. Pinning her with a look of warning, my tone states I’m serious as fuck as I say, “That ring will never leave your finger again.”
She lifts her chin and sasses me, “Never is only six months long.” She chuckles again. “Unless you back out sooner.”
Slowly, I shake my head. “There will be no annulment, Principessa.”
Instantly confusion flashes across her features. “What?”
Pulling away from her, I put on my safety belt and steer the vehicle back onto the road. “The one thing I’ll never give you is a divorce. Anything else is up for discussion.”
“You’re joking, right?” When I don’t bother responding, she gasps. “You’re serious? Have you lost your mind?”
“Never been saner,” I mutter.
“Why the hell would you want to stay married to me?”
I stop at a red light and glance at her. “You’re Mariya Koslov. The better question is, why wouldn’t I want to be married to you?”
“Jesus,” she mutters, shaking her head. “I’m not some bargaining chip you can use to solidify an alliance with my father.”
That’s the last reason why I want her.
The light turns green, and as I pull away, a heavy silence falls between us. By the time I park the G-Wagon and we climb out, you can cut the tension between us with a butter knife.
I grab Mariya’s bag and wait for Lev and Ivan to join us, then order, “Stay down here. She doesn’t need you in our home.”
Mariya follows me to the elevators, and when the doors slide shut, she mutters, “Like a lamb led to the slaughterhouse.”
“You’re no lamb, mia regina.”
Her eyes flick to me. “What did you call me?”
The doors open, and smiling, I gesture for her to walk. “My queen.”
She pauses, her eyes searching my face. With a shake of her head, she steps into her new home. “No way in hell am I calling you my king.”
“We’ll see about that,” I chuckle. I watch as she glances around the living room with a flicker of curiosity.
The entire penthouse is decorated in black slate stone, the furniture matching shades of dark charcoal. I’ve inherited my love for all things black from my father.
“Not bad,” she murmurs. She turns her attention to me. “Just show me to the guestroom, and I’ll get out of your way.”
Letting out another chuckle, I shake my head. I walk to the stairs and hear Mariya behind me. I ignore the four guestrooms and don’t even bother showing her around.
Entering my bedroom, now hers as well, I drop the bag by the foot of the king-size bed. “This won’t be a marriage in name only.” I turn around and capture her wary gaze. “You’ll sleep in my bed.”
She lifts an eyebrow at me while crossing her arms over her chest. Her chin lifts an inch, looking every bit the queen she is. “Is that so?”
I don’t even bother nodding.
Uncrossing her arms, she slowly steps closer to me until mere inches separate us. Tilting her head back, her eyelashes lower in a seductive move that has a direct link to my cock.
“So we’ll sleep next to each other.” Her tone is low and sexy as fuck, making me harden even more. “We’ll fuck like a happily married couple.” She lifts a hand to my chest, trailing a finger down the row of buttons of my dress shirt. “And I’ll cook and cater to you like a good little wife.”
“No cooking.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “I’ve heard you suck at it.”
With a frown, she stares at me, probably wondering how I know that little detail.
I lift my hand and wrap my fingers around the back of her neck. Tugging her closer until I’m able to feel her warm breaths on my lips, I say, “There will be no annulment, and this marriage will be real in every way.”
The same power that’s made her father and mother such an unbeatable duo darkens her eyes. “You think you’ll snap your fingers, and I’ll be a good little puppet?”
“Give me credit, mia moglie. I’m not stupid.”
Her lips part, and it takes all my strength not to kiss her fucking senseless.
“As hot as it is to hear you speak Italian, it frustrates me.”
“My wife.” As the words leave my mouth, they tense the air around us. Anticipation, unadulterated lust, and a maddening need to force this stubborn woman to bend to my will – it’s all so fucking intoxicating and addictive.
Mariya stares at me for a solid minute before she steps away from me. She glances around the room, taking in the dark furnishings, the insanely neat walk-in closet, and the door leading to the luxurious ensuite bathroom.
When her eyes come to a stop on the bed, she says, “If you touch me without my permission, I’ll kill you.”
A spark of anger heats my blood. “I’m offended you felt the need to say that,” I mutter as I shrug out of my jacket.
Mariya lets out a tired sigh. “You’re the one who said this will be a real marriage.”
Remembering she has a hangover, I say, “We’ll both feel better after a nap.”
Her gaze follows me into the closet as I loosen my tie and unbutton my shirt. I don’t even look at her as I say, “I don’t expect you to spread your legs tonight, Mariya.” Grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, I turn to face her. “I’ll give you time to get used to us as a couple.”
Her eyes sweep over my chest, a flash of desire darkening her eyes. Then she mutters, “Don’t hold your breath while you wait.”
