Page 9

The fresh scent of clean linen and lemon lingers in the air as he flips on the lights before dropping his keys on the kitchen island. I shut the door behind me and stand in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

The home is simple yet rich with plants, cream and dark-wood furniture, and sage-colored walls. Windows line the living room wall, revealing a patio, surrounded by more plants.

Since he’s not giving me any direction, I head toward the living room.

“Keep your ass in here,” he snaps, causing me to stop. “I don’t want blood on my furniture.”

I’m reminded I’m wearing my father’s blood. I tried to wipe it off the best I could during the drive here, but there was no getting it out of my white cashmere sweater.

I cross my arms, turning to face him. “Who were those guys, Julian?”

He stares at his phone screen. “The Russian Bratva.”

“Bratva?”

“Mafia, only the Russian version.”

“Why did a man in the Russian Mafia?—”

“Bratva,” he corrects as if he doesn’t want them affiliated in the same category as him.

I roll my eyes. “Okay,Bratva. Why did he refer to me as his wife?”

He finally lowers his phone and tosses it on the massive stone island. “Contractually, you were to wed him in”—he liftshis shoulder to raise his sleeve and checks his gold watch—“two days.”

I roll my eyes again.

Asshole.

If he was looking fordays, he needed to pull up a calendar, not look at his watch.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “But good news for you, I managed to save you from the Russians and cut you a better deal.”

“A better deal?” I ask, raising my chin. “I’m not some Honda Civic, sitting in a used car lot.”

“True. Your price was more along the lines of a Rolls-Royce,shiny and new.”

“Why was a deal even made for me?”

“Your father owed the Russians a lot of money.”

“Why would he owe anyone money? He’s the richest man on Wall Street.”

“That’s what he led people to believe. Realistically, your father was the biggest fraud on Wall Street. He did things real rich men don’t do to maintain their wealth.”

“Things like what?”

“Insider trading, took on clientele not exactly the Wall Street type, and stole money from clients to maintain his lifestyle.” He lifts his thick brow. “Now, he’s dead, and you’re fucked.”

I swallow. “What does his debt have to do with me?” I swallow again. “Why am Ifucked?”

“He borrowed money from the Russians and defaulted on his loan. He also poorly invested their money and eventually pocketed some of it. When the Russians came to his office for their money, Dima saw your photo and liked what he saw.” His gaze drifts down my body, and he smirks. “Your fatherandmother signed a new contract. They had sixty days to pay thedebt. If they failed, you’d marry Dima. That was sixty-one days ago.”

“And now, I’m … free?” I ask, already dreading Julian’s answer.

He runs his finger along his lower lip. “And now,you’re mine.”

I stumble back a step, nearly tripping on my feet. “Excuse me?”