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I thought I missed him when he enlisted. There were a handful of times when I was younger that he actually saved my ass. Once I even thought we were a team. He went to bat for me, risking my father’s wrath, even when my mother wouldn't. But something shifted when he came back. He was a changed man and no longer my ally.
Saul opens the door. I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“There she is.” My father’s booming voice makes me jump. I hate that I’m so skittish.
I remind myself of the only person who ever smiles when she sees me. The only person who loves me for who I am, no more, no less. And it’s for her sake that I’ll put on the brave face I’ve been taught to wear just to get through this.
I straighten my shoulders, the stranger still hidden behind the doorway. My father’s wearing his fake smile, the one that stretches his lips but doesn’t warm his eyes. Beads of sweat stand out on his receding hairline, his usual ruddy complexion even redder than normal after a few drinks.
“Harper, sweetheart. Come in and meet our guest.”
A chill skates between my shoulder blades. He’s pouring it on thick.
“Go,” Saul hisses. He gives me a merciless tug so hard I lose my footing. My heel catches on the doorframe and I tumble into the room, my hands fly in front of me to grab onto something to right myself… and land on the warm, unyielding, hard-as-hell frame of my future husband.
Sometimes in Hallmark movies, it’s cute how a woman stumbles, and her would-be suitor catches her, all gallant andcharming. He might help stack the books that tumbled out of her arms after a wholesome trip to the library, or heroically offer to buy her another cup of coffee. Their eyes meet, their breath catches, Cupid twangs his arrow—and the rest is history.
There’s a reason that’s fiction.
My suitor catches my arms and pins me in place like I’m an errant bird that needs to be put back in her cage. He holds me in front of him, his glacial blue eyes glaring at me.
This one definitely doesn’t look old and sleezy… not with that hard jaw made more angular with his scowl, and short-cropped black hair that somehow makes his blue eyes look like they’re chiseled from ice. There’s no greasy hair or yellowed teeth, no stench of cigars or scent of stale alcohol. No. His well-tailored suit hugs his strong frame, the breadth of his shoulders alone casting me in shadow. He’s calm and collected, not leering or swaggering. In short, he’s the opposite of the men I’ve known, and the effect momentarily shocks me.
Or is he?
His rugged handsomeness exudes confidence and power… but something tells me to beware.
He carries an air of authority and a hint of power that exudes alpha male. King of the forest. Everything about him commands obedience, as if he rules my house even though he has no such claims on my family. It’s disarming, because a man like him doesn’t belong in the presence of my father and brother. He’s a king among jesters, and he’s staring at me with a derisive curl of his lips. I feel about two feet tall and as awkward as a child learning how to walk.
“Your daughter’s clumsy, Bianchi,” he says with a downturn of his brows. He’s the complete opposite of anything I’ve imagined.
“You should watch your step,” he snaps, in a voice tinged with that accent again.
Lovely. He’s a stunningly gorgeousjerk.
Experience tells me that the best way to avoid being punished is simply by not talking. I mentally wire my jaw shut even though I’m seething. My brother practically pushed me and even if Ihadtripped?—
His large, strong hands are still on my arms. His grip on me feels charged, as if electric pulses are vibrating through his palms. I feel out of sorts and don’t know what to do with myself. When he catches my gaze, he releases me.
“Sit,” he orders, pointing wordlessly to a vacant couch. “Your father and I have business to discuss.”
I narrow my eyes at him to let him know I won’t be rolling over and playing fetch for him. But I acquiesce this time since it’s only our first meeting and maybe we’ll have further chaperoned meetings to look forward to.
Yay.
The men all take seats, Saul next to me.
“My name is Aleksandr Romanov,” he says to my brother. He’s barely even looking at me. “You know my brother Mikhail.”
“I do,” Saul says, appearing too earnest, too eager, like a kid hoping to get some attention from the hero he worships. “I got him out of the big house, and he promised to marry off my sister before it’s too late.” He barks out a mirthless laugh. “Harper,meet Aleksandr Romanov.” I wait for him to say “your future husband” but he doesn’t have the balls.
“Pleased to meet you,” I lie with a sickly sweet smile I hope gives him indigestion.
He doesn’t return the civility but only stares at me impassively.
“Mr. Romanov has come here today with a request,” my father says, his eyes twinkling greedily. My stomach drops when the sound of my mother clearing her throat startles me. When did she come in here? I look over at her and she wordlessly pulls her shoulders back, a silent admonition to sit up straighter.
I straighten my posture and look away so she can’t boss me around again. My entire life consists of people telling me what to do and it seems this guy who thinks he’s actually marrying me is no exception.
