“I’m not your fiancée,” I bite out. “For all you know, my brother will find a loophole in that contract and I’ll be out of here by noon.”
Maxim chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. “If your brother can find a loophole, I’ll let you go. But he won’t. There isn’t one. You’re going to be my wife, Calina. You’d better start getting used to the idea.”
He tilts his head. “After all, you were the one who volunteered. Why are you acting like you don’t want it anymore?”
I open my mouth, but he keeps going.
“In a few weeks, after the wedding, you’ll be spending your nights in my bedroom. Not in here.”
My blood boils. I’m practically foaming with anger.
He studies me for another second, completely unfazed by the fury radiating off me. “See you at the breakfast table.”
Then he turns and walks out again. I stand there in the middle of the ridiculous pile of lingerie and tiny clothes, chest heaving, fists clenched so tight my nails dig into my palms.
I hate him. I hate how he looks at me. And I really hate the way my stupid body reacted when he called mekrasivaya.
I pace the huge room like a caged animal, bare feet silent on the thick carpet. I can’t wear any of these clothes. They’re too revealing. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.
First things first. My mouth feels disgusting. I dig through the bags until I find a toothbrush and toothpaste, then head into the en-suite bathroom.
It’s just as luxurious and cold as the bedroom, black marble floors and counters, a massive walk-in shower with multiple rainfall heads, a deep soaking tub that could fit three people, and a vanity lit by soft hidden lighting. Even the towels are thick and black, monogrammed with a silver “O”.
I brush my teeth aggressively, then splash cold water on my face. When I finally look in the mirror, I freeze. I look horrible.
Last night’s makeup is smeared under my eyes, mascara streaked down my cheeks, lipstick long gone. My hair is a wild mess. This is what Maxim has seen me looking like the entire time, while I was fighting him.
I grab a wet wipe and scrub my face clean, then gather my hair into a messy bun. I stare at my reflection, at the tired, scared woman looking back at me.
What has my life become? I pray silently that Artyom will find a way out. He has to.
I step out of the bathroom just as the bedroom door opens again. Maxim walks in, still in those grey sweatpants and tight shirt.
“What do you want now?” I snap. “More rules and regulations?”
He stares at me lazily, eyes dragging over my bare face and messy hair. “Your brother is here.”
My heart leaps. I shove past him without thinking, pushing against his hard chest as I run out of the room and down the wide staircase.
“Artyom!” I cry out the second I see him standing in the foyer. I throw myself into his arms, hugging him tight.
“Thank God you’re here. Can I go home now? Please tell me I can leave. I’ve barely been here a few hours and I’m already losing my mind?—”
But Artyom doesn’t hug me back the way I expect. His arms are stiff around me. When I pull away and look up at his face, my stomach drops.
He looks grim. Defeated.
“I’m sorry, Calina,” he says quietly.
I take a step back, shaking my head. “No…”
“I spent all night going through the contract. I had our lawyers look at every line. There’s no loophole.”
His jaw tightens. “I found Father’s copy of the original agreement. It’s legitimate. He really did sign it. Maxim can demand whatever he wants as payment. And he wants you.”
I want to break down. I want to scream and cry. But I can’t. Artyom already carries the weight of the entire family on his shoulders. I won’t add to it. And I refuse to let Maxim see me crumble.
“I’ll let you two talk,” Maxim says before disappearing from the room.
