Page 93 of Twisted Proposal

"She's just a woman, Artem."

I turned to him then, my expression deadly. "No. She's not. And that's the fucking problem."

CHAPTER30

VIKTORIA

This wasn't protection—it was a prison.

And he was my jailer.

Why had I ever even entertained any other possibility?

I stared up at the gorgeous house; it looked like a mansion straight out of a fairy tale. The type of home that I had dreamed about living in since I was a child.

When I discovered what type of man my father really was, late at night I would close my eyes and picture an alternate reality where a man came and rescued me. He'd tell me how there was a mistake. It was discovered that I was switched at birth and instead of being part of a family of criminals, I was meant to live in a house like this.

A place full of warmth, laughter, and sunlight. Where people would listen to me, and not just belittle me.

The perfection of the house changed nothing. All it did was taint the dreams of a sad, lonely child. This house was a beautiful prison.

The man behind me cleared his throat. He was sent to pick me up from the small cabin and bring me here at Artem's bidding. He had grabbed my bag and asked if I had any other personal effects in the house since I would be moving into my "new place of residence."

For a moment, there was a rush of light anticipation. I thought he might have felt bad about what he did, or about our fight, or even had just seen reason.

I thought maybe Artem was moving me back to the city, back closer to school, where I would have some semblance of control over my life. I would be able to get back to my studies and deal with whatever new restrictions he put on me until I finished my degree.

It didn't matter what his motive was.

Dinner every night, mind-blowing sex on demand, who the fuck cared as long as I got to live alone and had the time I needed to dedicate to my studies.

It may not have been my best moment, but I knew several girls who had to be sugar babies for their education. At least I only needed one sugar daddy, and the sex was fantastic. Unlike most of them I wouldn't have to ride an overweight, balding middle manager while closing my eyes and thinking of Henry Cavill so I could fake an orgasm.

Fuck owning a Gucci bag.

I wanted my freedom, and this degree would lead me not only to independence, but to an ability to support myself in the lifestyle Artem was accustoming me to.

When we got into the car, I slid on my seat belt, expecting to spend the next hour or two staring out of the window until we got into town, but to my complete disappointment we stopped not even ten minutes later in front of this massive house.

I wasn't even sure if we left the private road that led to the cabin to begin with.

"Are we picking up someone else?" I asked, praying that was the case.

The driver shook his head as he got out of the car and opened my door. He collected my bags and escorted me up the long cobblestone path to the front door.

"This is?—"

"Your new home, miss," the man said.

My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth might crack. Each step toward the door felt like walking to my own execution, my heartbeat drumming in my ears.

"Where is he?" The moment I stepped into the house, I made a beeline straight to a man staring at his phone, who looked vaguely like Artem.

"And you are—?" He gave me a long look, and I knew he knew exactly who I was.

"The woman that is going to murder Artem." The words came out in a hiss through my teeth, my fingers curling into my palms.

"My brother is waiting for you in the office," he said, pointing to a door on the other side of the massive living room opening onto a hallway. "We're going to leave and give you two some...privacy. I think we would all prefer plausible deniability."