Page 64 of The Russian's Revenge Bride

“She’s Maxim’s sister. Intense is probably a family trait.”

“Speaking of Maxim, how are things with you two? Last time we talked, you were convinced he was going to keep you locked in a basement forever.”

I thought about this morning, about waking up in his arms with the taste of promises still on my lips. About the way he’d looked at me when I’d called him mine, covered in blood and beautiful in his violence.

“Things have gotten complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“Complicated, like I think I might actually be falling in love with him.”

Zara nearly dropped her phone. “Eleanor Beaumont Voronov, did you just admit to falling in love with your kidnapper husband?”

“Formerkidnapper husband. Current protective, possessive, surprisingly tender husband who kills people who threaten me.”

“Jesus Christ, your life has gotten weird.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But you’re happy? Like, actually happy, not just Stockholm syndrome happy?”

I considered the question seriously. Was I happy? The woman I’d been six months ago would have said no, would have insisted that happiness couldn’t coexist with the constant threat of violence, with the knowledge that my husband’s business involved activities that were probably illegal and definitely dangerous.

But the woman I was now, the woman wearing a dress designed to make me look lethal….

“Yeah,” I said. “I think I actually am.”

“Good. Because if he hurt you, I’d have to kill him, and I’m pretty sure he could snap me like a twig.”

“He’d never hurt me. Not physically.”

“What about emotionally?”

“That’s more complicated.” I thought about the distance he’d maintained after our wedding, the way he’d pulled back every time I’d tried to get closer. “He’s scared.”

“Maxim Voronov is scared of something?”

“He’s scared of becoming another man I’ll eventually hate.”

“Are you going to hate him?”

“No. But I don’t think he believes that yet.”

Anya returned from her phone call, her expression business-like but with an undertone of something that might have been amusement.

“Maxim wants to know if you’re planning to leave the building today.”

“Why?”

“Because if you are, he needs to coordinate additional security. Apparently, there have been some developments in the investigation into the shooting.”

Something cold settled in my stomach. “What kind of developments?”

“The kind that suggest the threat level hasn’t decreased.” She studied my face carefully. “He also wants to know if you’re willing to accept a more restrictive security protocol for the next few days.”

“Define restrictive.”

“Armed escorts for any movement outside the building. Background checks for anyone who wants to get within fifty feet of you. Bulletproof glass in all the cars.”