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“You don’t have to figure me out.”
I regret the words almost as soon as they’re out of my mouth. Something flashes in his eyes, fleeting but no less potent in its pain.
I’ve hurt him, and for no other reason other than I want to keep distance between us. I open my mouth, grappling for the right words of apology. But before I can speak, he continues.
“True.” He shrugs his shoulders. “This is a business arrangement. Not a relationship. You have the house you want. And the money.” He says that with the slightest of sneers in his voice as his words slice through me. “And I have what I want.”
“Your share of Drakos Development.” I say it almost bitterly, as if I expected something more.
“Yes.”
“It’s so important you would risk marrying your sworn enemy?”
“I would do anything for it.”
I glance around us then, at the people watching us dance. Some look starstruck, others calculating, as if they know something’s off, can sense the story we’ve spun is pure fiction.
“And what if someone finds out? About the will and why we got married?”
“If they agree to keep a private family matter private, nothing.” His eyes sharpen to chips of pale blue ice. “But if they threaten me, I’ll destroy them.”
He watches me, his head cocked to the side, as if waiting to see how I’ll respond to this display of power. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t intimidating. But in some twisted way, I’m grateful for it. One kiss made me swoon. His frank words, the reminder of why he married me, help cool some of my desire.
If I can just keep playing his words over in my head, a daily mantra to keep me grounded, I can survive the next two weeks in France.
The music starts to wind down. As he takes me into a final turn, he leans down.
“I do, however, propose one adjustment to our contract.”
The glint in his eyes puts me on guard. “Oh?”
“Given how well our first kiss went, perhaps we could do both of us a favor and revise the no physical intimacy clause.”
My heart stops. I bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from saying the first word that comes to mind. I can imagine it all too easily: hot, sweaty bodies joining together on top of mussed sheets, questing hands and frantic gasps. An inferno that would ignite every nerve as it destroyed reason and left only pure pleasure in its wake.
Applause sounds like a thunderclap and yanks me from my vision. Gavriil smirks down at me, confident of my decision. The sight of it infuriates me that he would assume I could be swayed by one kiss.
Enrages me that I would be tempted by one kiss.
I slide my arms around his neck and rise up on my toes. Fire flares in his eyes as I draw near...
Then shift at the last minute and brush my lips against his cheek as I steel myself to say what needs to be said. To prevent me from compromising my beliefs any further.
“There will be no revisions,” I whisper into his ear. “And if you suggest it again, contract or no, I will walk away from this marriage.”
His shoulders tense. He draws back, his gaze hard. He grasps my hand and spins me out. My heart leaps into my throat. Have I gone too far?
“My wife, ladies and gentlemen,” he announces in a booming voice. I can hear the promise in his words, the threat. He’s got his ring on my finger. He’s not letting me go anytime soon. And as much as I want to fight him, to shout out the truth and be done with it, I can’t. Not when Dessie is sitting on the fringes next to Catherine with color in her cheeks and hope in her eyes.
His fingers tighten on mine a fraction. I incline my head toward our guests as my body grows heavy.
This is going to be a very long year.
CHAPTER NINE
Gavriil
THEEIFFELTOWERjuts up into the summer sky, proud and dark against a light blue. Some might call it cliché or boring. But for me, the Eiffel Tower is a symbol of longevity, of history and pride.