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natalia

“You’re living here?” I ask, looking around.

“Not up to your standards?” Samuel asks, making me roll my eyes.

“It’s a penthouse apartment in a five-star luxury hotel. I simply meant that I expected you’d be in a home surrounded by guards and a staff to do your bidding.”

“Worried I won’t be able to protect you, Pookie?”

I walk over to him and pinch him a little too hard on the cheeks.

“Not at all, fluffy-wuffy. I just found it curious.”

He cocks an eyebrow up and assesses me.

“Fluffy-wuffy?”

“If you’re going to use icky nicknames, so will I.”

Samuel laughs, humor lighting up his eyes.

I refuse to acknowledge how good that makes him look.

He’s already sinfully gorgeous.

Relaxed and happy, he might just be deadly.

I push those thoughts away.

If I’m going to survive, I need to keep my wits about me— and my legs closed.

“I think I shall concede this round. You win. If I’m not calling you a pet name, which do you prefer? Natalia or Isabel?”

“Maybe Natalia. The only person to call me that was my father. I hated him, too. So, it seems fitting.”

That erases the sexy look on his face.

“Isabel it is,” he responds.

I shrug. “The staff will put your stuff in your room. How long until you leave for work?” he asks, taking my hand and pulling me from the foyer toward the open kitchen and giant island.

The apartment is beautiful and modern.

At the top of the ceiling and walls, there’s a deep, rich chocolate finish that reminds me of Samuel’s eyes, and the bottom is a soft vanilla set off with some wood accents to make it pop.

The wood cabinets and trim are a Brazilian oak.

The island is made of the same wood, with a dark granite top.

Throughout the apartment, there are modern gray wood floors that are striking, while still allowing the oak accents to stand out.

There’s a small room that separates the entry from everything else that is entirely glass.

Inside the room is a huge bonsai tree in a blue pot.

It’s almost as tall as I am.

There’s a huge chaise that invites you to lie on it, fitting three people easily.

There’s also a curved stairway leading up to the roof of the penthouse.

I could happily live in just that room.

“I’m working another double. I’ll need to be there by four,” I answer.

“You work too hard,” he murmurs, but doesn’t look at me.

“I am free until a video conference with Avi at midnight. We can spend the day getting to know one another.”

“It’s the Christmas season. It’s always busy,” I explain.

Why are you having a video conference at midnight?

Is Avi another candidate for a bride, or maybe a sex show?

”

He laughs. “You’re forgetting the time difference. That’s only ten in the morning in Moscow. As for Avi, he works alongside me. I’m hoping to put him in charge there, so we can live here,” he explains, pulling out a stool for me.

“Oh,” I breathe. My stomach feels unsettled as he casually mentions us living together.

I focus on the smorgasbord of breakfast pastries, sausage, eggs, and toast in front of me.

Samuel apparently planned to feed me.

Since I am hungry, I grab an empty plate and start filling it.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Orange juice, please.”

“I thought all doctors live on coffee?”

“I do that later in the day. I just need to be awake—not climbing the walls,” I explain, looking over the offerings before me.

“What’s that look?” he asks, bringing my juice over, sitting beside me, as he fills his plate.

“Huh?”

“You look disappointed. Did I order the wrong things?”

“Oh, no. I just like fresh fruit in the mornings,” I explain.

“I’ll remember that for tomorrow,” he murmurs to himself.

The response gives me a funny feeling.

What is going on here?

“I was thinking after breakfast we might get out for a bit. Spend some time exploring the city and Christmas displays.”

“ Why ?”

Samuel stares directly at me.

“We’re married, Isabel. We need to see how compatible we are—get to know one another.”

“Did you forget that a couple of days ago you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me?”

“I think we should start with a clean slate, so to speak.”

“Um, no,” I deny at once, putting my fork down.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to be married!”

He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

I feel like I have.

“But we are. A deal was struck?—”

“By my father . Not me. I didn’t want this.”

“But you signed the contract.”

“At my father’s order,” I argue.

“But you signed it.”

“You can’t legally force someone to marry you—contract or not.”

“Actually, you can. You agreed to the contract. I fulfilled my part. That makes it binding.”

“Your part? What was that—being a jerk?”

“Did you not even read the contract, Isabel?”

“There was no point. My father told me everything. When Juan spoke, it was better if you didn’t question him.”

I can see the surprise on his face.

He shakes his head. “You’re a doctor, for Christ’s sake. You should know to read everything you sign.”

“Thanks for the advice. Also, I had one dad—he was useless. I don’t need another.”

He stands, quickly walking from the room.

I shrug. I guess I pissed him off again.

Maybe he’ll agree to the annulment faster now.

I finish eating as he comes back in.

Standing up to take my plate and glass to the sink to rinse it out, I ignore him.

I expected him to sit down, but instead he follows me, slapping a folder on the counter.

He moves behind me, gathering my hair in his hand and pushing it over to one shoulder.

I should move but can’t.

I think I’m in shock.

Samuel leans against me.

The hard ridge of his erection pushes against my ass, as his hot breath caresses my ear and neck.

“Read the contract, Izzy. Then look at the receipts that are attached. I’ll give you today to come to the realization that you are my wife—bought and paid for, for at least five years. I’ve not broken the rules and as such, I don’t plan on letting you go. We will try to make this work—as previously agreed.” He rubs his nose against my ear before slowly dragging his lips along the side of my neck.

I bite my lip, trying to think of all the reasons I should be angry, but can’t form a clear thought.

His teeth gently rake against my tender skin.

It takes everything I have not to moan as he sucks on my skin.

His hands hold my hips as he continues pushing against me, showing me just how much he desires me.

He places a small kiss against my pulse point, before taking his lips away.

“I’ll make sure you have someone here to go with you to the hospital. Don’t leave without them. If you do, you won’t like how I retaliate,” he warns.

He walks away, then I hear the door open and close.

My legs feel shaky as I take the folder and go back to the island, sitting down.

Inside is my marriage contract.

I force myself to read it.

With every page I turn, my heart rate quickens.

I feel like I’m having a panic attack.

It’s all here in black and white.

Samuel was right. I should have read it.

It was stupid not to.

I thought it was just a simple alliance.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

This contract makes me seem desperate.

I agreed to marry Samuel in exchange for him paying for all my college tuition and expenses.

Not only that, but he’s also deposited twenty thousand a month into a checking account under my name, in conjunction with a ten thousand a month clothing allowance.

Hell, the man even bought my car—not my father, as I believed.

All receipts are attached.

There’s no refuting it.

I was sold to Samuel Levkin.

The marriage is for a period of five years, with an option of longer should both parties agree.

The only thing that can void the contract is if Samuel physically harms me or fails to pay for the items listed.

My only requirement apparently was to become his wife and agree to perform the duties he requires from a spouse, such as attending business meetings and events.

I’m also to live with him after I finish my degree.

All of this makes me sick to my stomach.

Yet that’s not the thing that makes me want to dig my father up, bring him back to life, and kill him again.

Nope. It’s the fact that the bastard agreed I would give Samuel Levkin an heir and sign over all rights to said child once it was done.

I pick up my cell and call the only person I know that might help me right now.

“Izzy?”

“I need you,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

“Izzy, what’s wrong?” my brother asks.

“I’ll text you the address. Please come here.”

I hang up, immediately texting the hotel name and room info.

Then I slide from the chair to the floor, hugging my legs to my chest as I cry.

I always knew my father was a monster, but I failed to realize how truly evil he was.