Page 13 of Scarlet Vows

I sigh and finish with, “And he kept hitting on me, not getting the hint. He knew who I was, and he knows Demyan. And he wants me to go out with him. I told him… I told him I’m engaged, and now he wants to meet me and my fiancé.”

I look down at my hands.

“The asshole won’t be breathing after I tell Demyan.”

My gaze flies up. “No!”

“Your brother will want to know.”

“Ilya, you can’t tell him. Youcan’t.”

“Why not? It’s sort of my job,” he says.

“Ilya, we’re either friends, or that’s all fake and you’re my brother’s lackey.”

He isn’t, and my words are unfair, but I can’t think of another way than appealing to his ego.

Ilya doesn’t say a word.

But his face tells me he can see what I’m trying to do. But I think he’s also willing to give me a chance to convince him.

“He can’t find out,” I say quietly. “Because it’s Demyan.”

“How is that a reason?”

I breathe out and take a swallow of my coffee. “Because Demyan won’t ever let me live it down, and any advances in my own autonomy will be set back. Way back. And I’m sick and tired of always relying on my big brother. I should have just said no and let the bartender call the cops or throw him out.”

“From what I know, Santo’s jacked. There’s more I could say, but…go on.”

“This is my mess, Ilya. I shouldn’t have told him I have a fiancé. And I need to clean it up.”

He frowns and doesn’t say anything.

“Which is why I kinda called you,” I say, my hands out, palms up on the table. “I don’t know what to do. Any ideas on how to get out of this? He’s apparently sending a car to pick me and my fiancé up on Friday.”

Ilya chuckles. “Well, unless you did go and get yourself engaged in the past twelve hours, I don’t think you can fix this on your own. You need help, and that’s okay.”

“And Demyan?”

“Marriage between siblings is frowned upon. Plus, I imagine Erin might have something to say.”

I kick him lightly under the table, and he feigns pain.

“Ow, my leg…”

“Be serious.”

“Okay, this is our issue. No Demyan.”

“No Demyan. So what do I do?”

He takes my hand. “How about this? I’ll go with you to meet this Santo and pretend to be your fiancé.”

Ilya’s offer hangs in the air, and I want it. I want to pluck it and hold it close.

I can’t breathe as light weaves through me.

But then it fizzles, and I exhale.