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All the humor inside me fades away. “Oh my God. You’re serious.”
My skin grows clammy under the bathrobe. I start to rise, but I have to grip the bedpost—dizziness makes it impossible to stand. The fibers in my muscles demand fight or flight, not caring that I’m losing my balance. Stuck between collapsing or jumping out of my own skin, I cling to the bedframe.
Marriage. No. No way.
I’d never get married to someone like Arsen! But it’s more than that. I don’t want to get married at all. Not after …
My mind tangles up with awful memories. Things that linger like flecks of glitter, popping up no matter how hard you work to sweep the mess away.
“Galina?”
My vision shrinks to a pinprick. “You’re insane. Straight up insane.”
“I’ve thought that myself, many times, in fact. But in this case, I’m clear-headed. Marry me, Galina.”
The rush of anxiety threatens to pull the ground out from under me. “Never!”
“You seem to be under the impression that I’m asking. I’m not. I’m telling you to marry me.”
Lifting my head, I watch him with blatant distaste. “If you’re going to force me, why bother with the pretense of acting like what I say matters?”
“Because this will go much smoother if we’re on the same page.”
That takes the winds from my sails. Arsen is watching me patiently. It’s the same way he watched me when we had drinks, with that built-in knowledge he’s going to get his way. He’s good at reading people—I want that ability. Studying his hands lying flat, relaxed, on his thighs … how there’s not a single wrinkle of worry on his perfect face … I start to piece the puzzle together.
“This has to do with Yevgeniy, doesn’t it?” I ask. Nothing else could explain a proposal out of the blue.
Arsen holds my gaze evenly from where he sits on the floor. “Everything has to do with him.”
“Hearing you confirm it doesn’t make me feel better.” Wiping my brow, I manage to finally stand on both feet. Arsen rises to follow me. He remains where he is, not coming closer as I grip the bedpost. The cookies sit heavily in my belly. There’s a chance I’ll vomit them up. “This is crazy. I can’t marry you; you’re a stranger.”
“You don’t need to know me, Galina. All you need is to understand that this is the only way to ensure your safety … and your mother’s.”
“You keep moving the goalposts,” I whisper. “First it was just staying here. Now it’s becoming your wife. What changed?”
A quick tick of annoyance causes his neck to pull tight. “Everything is a struggle with you, Galina. If I say this is something you must do, that should be enough.”
“You might be the pakhan of the Grachev Bratva, but I’m not one of your brainless soldiers. I have my own willpower. I make my own decisions,” I state frankly.
His nostrils flare like a bull ready to charge. “Life would be much easier if you had the discipline to obey me as they do. How many times must I repeat myself that everything I’m doing is for your safety? For your mother’s as well. If I didn’t know better, I think you’d be happy if I threw you at Yevgeniy’s feet like a Christmas present.”
“Of course I don’t want that,” I say exhaustively. “I’m just struggling to understand how becoming your wife helps your plan to defeat him.”
His shoes scuff lightly over the carpet. How can a man so big move so silently? He’s close enough that, when I look down at his hands by his belt, I can see all the fine details of the skull tattoos on his knuckles grinning at me. “The marriage won’t be real. The Bratva would never stand for someone in my position marrying a woman like you,” he sneers.
I bristle, offended by his casual way of cutting me down. “Screw you.”
“Oh, now that you know you don’t qualify as marriage material, you’re mad?” He chuckles darkly, flustering me further. “It’s all an act. Are you afraid of playing pretend with me, Galina?”
Using all the energy and focus I have, I lock my knees, tightening my core. I have to be strong to bargain with Arsen, or he’ll roll over me in a blink. “We’ll know it’s not real … Your soldiers will know it’s not real … But everyone else will believe the ruse?”
“Exactly.”
My jaw opens slightly in surprise. “You want Yevgeniy to think we’re in love.” My brain races, warring with my heart, which is already at maximum speed. “That’s your goal! Why do you think he cares about that? What are you hoping he’ll do once he learns about the wedding?”
Arsen’s fingers ball into fists before he flexes them open again. “The less you know, Galina, the better it will be.”
I don’t believe that for a second. With my mind in a jumble, I consider my situation from a newer, fuller angle. He’s trying to make Yevgeniy do something. What can it be? Chewing the inner corner of my lip, I decide, unfortunately, that the reason doesn’t matter. Not now. Arsen isn’t going to let me say no to marrying him. But he does want me to go along peacefully. That means I can force his hand a bit with some tit for tat. “I want proof that you’re making sure my mother is all right.”
