Page 16 of Cruel Romeo

“You just married a stranger to punish your runaway bride,” she scoffs under her breath. “Forgive me if I don’t believe this is your romantic era.”

“I never said anything about romance.”

“Then I’d say any more of your mouth on my body is uncalled for.”

My poker face threatens to break. I bite my grin down to a smirk, but I can’t help it: I like the way she fires back. Most people don’t dare—certainly not with me. They keep their heads down, their mouths shut, and do as they’re told.

Not her, though.

“Is it?” I press with a pointed look at her flushed face. “Pity.”

Her blush deepens. I wonder if she’ll blush as prettily when I have her stripped bare. When I’m buried to the hilt inside her.

She tries to shrink from me, but I don’t let her. Like I said, I’m not in the habit of letting go of things that fall into my lap. Finders keepers, and I’m the one who found her. Not my father, not my brother—me.

Her gaze darts to the side exit. I follow it, watch her eyes narrow as she calculates the distance. How fast she thinks she can sprint in her sensible work heels.

“Don’t,” I warn.

She doesn’t look at me. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to run. We just established you’re too smart for that, and I hate to be proven wrong.”

Her spine stiffens. She wasn’t expecting me to read her. Something tells me Ms. Banks is used to being the smartest person in the room.

And that she has no idea how to handle it when she’s not.

Challenge sparks in her eyes. “Or what?” she snaps, pressing into my space. “You’ll chase me down and drag me back caveman-style?”

“No need.” I lean in just enough for her to feel my breath on her ear. “I’ll just have to make sure you don’t get the chance to run again.”

Her face drains. No doubt, she’s picturing a million different gruesome ways I could keep that promise.

Without thinking, I reach out and catch a lock of her hair between my fingers. Soft, silky, with a scent like citrus andcheap shampoo. I twirl it once, then bring it to my nose and inhale.

“Wherever you run, I can find you,” I say. “Any no-name town, any back alley in the country.”

“Then I’ll just have to ditch the country,” she counters.

My smirk widens. “Fake IDs might get you around this side of the border, but they won’t get you through TSA,lisichka. And unless you’re planning to swim your way across the Atlantic, there’s nowhere you can go I won’t follow.”

Sima’s breath catches. She doesn’t answer. Just stares at me, frozen, fury and fear tangled in her eyes.

“So don’t do anything stupid,” I advise. “You’re clever. Stay that way, and we won’t have a problem.”

She turns her face away for a second, jaw clenched, chest rising like she’s working to hold herself together. I let her have the moment, breathe through it. It’s better for both of us if she doesn’t make a scene.

Then, just like that, she locks it down. Straightens her shoulders, fixes her expression. Composes herself like nothing happened.

I can tell she’s had years of practice at this game.

“What now?” she demands with a sliver of voice, looking everywhere but me.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate on that.”

“Whathappensnow?” she clarifies, impatient. “You parade me around like a prize? Take me to your reception? Let your whole crew toast to a heartfelt speech about how it was love at first blackmail?”

“Tempting. But no.” I nod to Lev, who’s already signaling for the car. “We’re skipping the party. I’ve had enough speeches for one day.”