Page 66 of Marrying the Savage

His question means something else. Do I want to make the marriage legitimate on paper?

“It will.”

“Today?”

“Now.”

Mikhail nods once. “I already sent Nikolai.”

“Then why ask?”

“To see if you changed your mind.”

“I don’t change my mind after vows.”

“No,” he says dryly. “Only before church shootings.”

I look at him. He looks back. For a moment, the room nearly feels normal.

Then the house phone on my desk rings.

Mikhail answers it before the second ring, listens, and his expression changes. He covers the receiver. “Your wife is awake.”

My wife.

Mine with my ring tied to her finger.

Mine with my mark still at her throat, unless she has scrubbed it raw trying to remove proof of me.

“What has she done?” I ask.

Mikhail listens again. His mouth twitches. “She is refusing breakfast.”

“Why?”

“She says she does not negotiate with kidnappers before coffee.”

I look at him.

He adds, “And apparently the coffee brought to her was unacceptable.”

For the first time all morning, I feel the edge of a real smile threaten.

I stop it. Barely.

“What was wrong with it?”

Mikhail listens, then says, “She said it tasted like pardon me, ass.”

I set the file down. “Send proper coffee.”

“The staff are asking what proper means.”

I think of Sofia’s face last night, pale with exhaustion, mouth still too red from mine, chin lifted like defiance is the only thing keeping her upright.

“Strong,” I say. “No sugar. Cream on the side.”

Mikhail studies me. “You know how she drinks coffee.”