Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a stunning view of the lighted gardens and the city skyline beyond. There’s a sitting area with leather armchairs, a low table, and a small bar cart in the corner.
I force my gaze back to him. “I’m going to lunch with my sister-in-law tomorrow. Kira.”
He nods once. “Fine. You’ll go with a bodyguard.”
“I’m a grown woman. I don’t need armed sitters following me everywhere I go.”
His expression hardens. “Your brothers let you wander around without proper protection. That was careless. I won’t make the same mistake. You don’t leave this house without me or a bodyguard. End of discussion.”
I glare at him, but I know there’s no point in arguing right now. “Fine.”
“Good.”
He surprises me by walking over to his bedside table, opening the drawer, and pulling out a black credit card. He holds it out to me.
“I know you will need to get things for the wedding. Use this for your shopping. Whatever you need.”
I take it reluctantly. “Thank you, but I have my own money.”
“Whatever you had before doesn’t count anymore,” he says flatly. “You’re going to be my wife. That makes you my responsibility. Use the card.”
I put it away without further protest.
He watches me for a moment. “When do you plan on shopping for your wedding dress?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. I didn’t even know I was expected to wear one.”
His face darkens with clear disapproval.
“I could just wear one of those little dresses you bought me. The see-through ones.”
A low growl rumbles from his chest. “Don’t even think about it.”
I smile sweetly. “We’ll see about that.”
I turn toward the door and walk out without waiting for a reply. But I catch the look on his face just before I close the door. It’s priceless.
The next day arrives, and for the first time since I was taken, I feel something close to normal.
I meet Kira, Irina, and Milana for brunch at a quiet upscale café that Kira chose. The moment I see my sister, my chest tightens with relief. We crash into each other in a tight hug, holding on longer than necessary. She smells like home, and for a few precious seconds, I let myself pretend everything is okay.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I whisper against her hair.
“I’m so sorry,” Milana says, voice cracking. “This is all my fault. If I hadn’t gone to the club with you?—”
“No.” I pull back and cup her face, shaking my head firmly. “This is not your fault. None of it. It’s our father’s doing. He’s the one who killed Maxim’s father and signed that stupid blood contract. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Kira and Irina join us, wrapping their arms around both of us for a moment before we sit down. For the next hour, we talk, laugh, and share stories like old times.
They tell me how shocked everyone is that I’m actually going through with this. How Artyom and Mikhail keep tearing the contract apart looking for any loophole and have still found no solution.
Milana looks guilty the entire time. “I still feel like I should be the one marrying him.”
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “And that’s exactly why I stepped forward. You deserve a chance at happiness. I couldn’t let him take that from you.”
The conversation eventually drifts to the wedding. Kira and Irina both talk about venues, flowers, dresses, and color schemes. I sit there mostly quiet, pushing my food around my plate.
“You only get married once in this world,” Kira says gently. “Like I already told you, even if it’s not by choice, you should make it count. Let us help you plan something beautiful.”
