Dmitri stood by the window with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He gave me attention the moment the door closed behind me. He didn’t move; he just watched.
I stepped further inside, already sliding the backpack off my shoulder. Dmitri moved too. Each step he took closed the distance between us.
I needed to find a way out of this. Because this man was not ordinary. Ordinary was the only kind I knew how to survive.
“I think you went too far with faking the DNA test. I don’t know how else you want me to apologize, but please, let’s stop this,” I said.
He tipped his head and studied me as if I had wandered into his office uninvited. “Good morning to you, too, wife. Tell me, did you work for Coca-Cola before? It must have been hard providing for our son in my absence.”
I exhaled and reached for patience I didn’t have anywhere near enough of. “You know I lied. Why are you doing this?”
“Do I?” His lips curved, careless and amused at the same time. “I sleep around a lot. There’s a chance I met you somewhere and simply don’t remember.” He lifted his glass. “But I’m fairly certain we slept together. And the result?” His gaze dropped, then came back up. “A son.”
I stared at him. “I’m twenty-five, and he’s nine.”
“Noted.”
“You realize that would mean I got pregnant at fifteen.”
“True.”
“Shouldn’t that be illegal?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I pulled the briefcase from my backpack and set it down on the table. “Let’s be practical. Here is the remaining money. I’ll pay back what I used, and you can name your price for the lie. I’ll settle everything.”
He went quiet. For a moment, I thought logic had actually found him.
He began moving closer again. His eyes stayed on mine, and I told myself to step back, to put distance between us, to do something useful with my feet. But my body didn’t listen. Those grey eyes kept me exactly where I was.
He stopped right in front of me and lifted his hand. He brushed his fingers under my chin, tilting my face slightly upward. I swallowed the urge to knock his hand away and held his gaze instead. If this were a game of control he was trying to run, I would not be the first one to fold.
“I love that mole,” he said, his eyes tracing the small mark beneath my left eye as if it were something worth the time.
“Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“I did.” His gaze came back to mine. “And in case you haven’t figured it out yet, you are already my wife.”
My throat tightened around whatever I was about to say.
“Now,” he added, stepping back enough to break the closeness. “Sit the hell down and relax.” His eyes darkened at the edges. “If I wanted chaos, you’d already feel it.”
Chapter Nine
Dmitri Konstantinov
My wife, the little thief,sat across from me, and I took my time checking her out.
She had black hair, cut to the neck, a length that would fit in only one fist. I preferred longer hair, the kind that wrapped twice around a hand and gave you something to work with. But hers was full enough to compensate. Her brown eyes were doing what they seemed good at: moving, observing, and filing things away. But I could tell she was trying very hard to look as if she wasn’t afraid.
My gaze settled on the mole beneath her left eye. It was small, something most people wouldn’t think twice about.
She caught my attention when her lips parted, as if she were about to say something. She didn’t. Instead, she caught her lower lip between her teeth and held it there. I was certain she had no idea what that did to men.
“So you’re just going to stare?” she finally said. “My brother must be confused and scared. I should go.” She straightened. “I think we’ve sorted this out. Give me a month, no, two weeks, andI’ll pay back the rest of the money.”
I said nothing.
She pointed toward the door with her thumb, eyes still on me, waiting for me to agree with what I had no intention of agreeing to. When nothing came, she drew a breath.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She stood.
