Page 72 of Betrayal and Vows

Mikhail's hand rests on Lena's bare shoulder.

His thumb traces lazy circles against her skin while she sits rigid as stone, fork halfway to her mouth.

She's wearing a cream-colored silk blouse that leaves her shoulders exposed. I’m certain it’s another of his choices. Another way to mark his territory.

I intercepted several packages this morning. They were filled with clothing.

Apparently, Mikhail wasblessinghis future wife with a whole new wardrobe.

I saw her expression as the parade of packages was brought in. Her own clothing was ripped from the closet and tossed into bags.

Every muscle in my body screams to move.

To cross the room in three strides and snap his wrist.

To put my hands around his throat and squeeze until those predatory green eyes go dark.

Instead, I count.

One circle. Two. Three.

Each touch burns through me like molten steel.

"The flowers for Saturday need to be changed," Mikhail says conversationally, never lifting his hand from her skin. "White roses are too pure. I want something with more passion."

His fingers drift lower, skimming the edge of her collarbone.

Four circles. Five.

Lena's knuckles are white where she grips her coffee cup. The only sign she's not the perfectly composed bride-to-be she appears to be.

"Red roses, perhaps?" Vadim suggests from the head of the table. He's watching this display with the detached interest of a man observing a chess match.

"Too obvious," Mikhail murmurs, his thumb still making those maddening circles. "Something darker. More fitting for royalty."

His hand slides down her arm now. I watch Lena's jaw clench almost imperceptibly. She takes a careful sip of coffee, buying herself time to compose her expression.

"Black dahlias," she says quietly. "They symbolize elegance and dignity."

And death.

Mikhail's hand stills. "Interesting choice. Though I was thinking more along the lines of?—"

"The dahlias will be perfect," Vadim interrupts, his tone final. "Lena has excellent taste."

A flash of irritation crosses Mikhail's face, but he removes his hand from her arm. Small victory, but I'll take it.

My earpiece crackles softly. I know it’s Dmitri. We secured the tiny earpieces that only the two of us wear. "Package delivery at the south gate. Three vehicles."

I say nothing, but now my attention is divided.

If it’s an attack, I have to get Lena to safety.

The rest of these fuckers can burn.

I almost hope it is. Anything to get her away from him.

“Wedding supplies,” Dmitri says. “Linens, crystal, enough champagne to float a yacht.”