Page 112 of Twisted Proposal

My entire life I had been surrounded by men who were strong in one way but weak in another.

My father and my younger brother were physically strong, but weak of mind. They were easily dazzled by get-rich-quick schemes and preferred cutting corners, not to mention their weak sense of loyalty.

Dima was strong physically, and he was smart, so smart. But he also had a weakness that turned fatal. He was weak when it came to dealing with people. Dima couldn't see their faults and he always assumed people were good, or at the very least had lines they wouldn't cross. He knew who our father was and still he let himself be put in a situation that ended his life.

Artem was physically strong, and smart, but also strategic. He knew people, he could read them. He didn't need me to tell him my father was betraying him. Artem knew the second he laid eyes on my father.

He was loyal to his family, but not blind to their faults.

His power was absolute.

It was the double-sided coin that both drew me to him and urged me to run.

When Artem saw me, he took me in, his eyes trailing slowly over my body, every inch of my skin heating under just his gaze.

My nerve endings came alive, a flush spreading from my chest to my cheeks.

This man shouldn't have had so much power over me, but he did.

No matter how I fought it.

Artem straightened up and clasped my hand in his as he escorted me to a seat.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice rich velvet against my skin.

"Thanks, whoever does your shopping has great taste," I said.

"I picked this out, just for you," he whispered in my ear like it was our little secret.

Why did my cheeks flush at those words? Had he spent so long examining every inch of my body that he knew not only my size but what styles would complement my long lines? Or did he just get lucky?

"I know it's traditional to seat you at the other end of the table, but I don't want to be that far from you." He kissed my cheek then pulled out my chair, pushing it in for me as I sat.

The place setting was fine china with a delicate golden design along the rim. I was pretty sure the silverware was actual silver, but what caught my attention wasn't the elegance of the dinnerware. It was the single red rose that had been placed next to my fork.

There were no other roses in the room. It wasn't an afterthought; it wasn't a coincidence. The single red rose was a gift. Somehow, I just knew that he had picked this out. He had chosen this for me.

My first thought was to dismiss the gesture entirely. It wasn't sweet; it was manipulative. If he thought I could be bought with a single flower, then he was severely mistaken.

That begged the question. Why was he bothering to try to buy me? He had already stolen me. He had stolen me, then caged me. So why show affection now? Unless…could it be genuine?

I dismissed that thought just as quickly. Falling into his traps was dangerous. I knew better.

Instead of taking his own seat at the head of the table, he grabbed a bottle of wine from the buffet behind me and held it out for me to inspect the label.

With its gilded, scrolling script it was both stunning and impressive, but illegible.

"I don't know anything about wines," I said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear, momentarily embarrassed by my lack of knowledge.

"Well, this happens to be one of my favorites, and I hope you like it, too. If not, I can get you anything else." He opened the bottle and brought out a large, oddly shaped glass container that had a glass ball in the opening.

The way he poured the wine slowly and evenly almost seemed like a ritual. The dark red liquid cascaded over the ball and fell down into the vessel like a beautiful red waterfall that sparkled in the low candlelight.

"This decanter is formed specifically so that we don't have to wait for the wine to breathe," he explained as the last few ruby-red drops fell from the bottle. His movements were very precise as he poured a glass of wine and held it up to one of the candles, swirling it to inspect the color. Then he handed it to me.

"Isn't it the man who's supposed to test the wine?"

"Not tonight. I know it's a good bottle. I want to know if you like it, or if I should open something else?"