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EMERY
I grab an armful of lace and do my best to press it across my body, despite the fact Adrik has seen it all already. I suddenly want to be more covered, less vulnerable.
“You didn’t think to tell me when my own wedding is?” I snap.
Adrik pulls on his shirt. Even now, I’m sad at the loss of his body. Looking at his defined muscles and rippling abs definitely makes being in his presence more bearable. But more than that, I like seeing the tan line around his neck and the scar above his right hip. I like seeing the mole on his left shoulder.
All of the little things that remind me he is actually human.
“I just told you,” he replies. “But in case it wasn’t clear enough: we’re getting married in two days. Pencil that into your busy schedule.”
“Asshole,” I spit. “You didn’t think maybe I’d want a little more notice?”
“I didn’t think about you at all, actually.”
His words hurt. Just like he meant them to, I’m sure. Adrik doesn’t do anything without some kind of motive. Even this, ravishing me on top of a pile of wedding dresses, was probably planned. Maybe he thought I’d be more agreeable after a good fucking.
Well, think again.
“But you had enough time to order me a rack of custom-made wedding dresses from a famous designer,” I point out. “And make sure they were ridiculously inappropriate for anyone but you to look at.”
Adrik’s blue eyes sparkle with far too much mischief. “Are you afraid to truly be seen, Emery?”
“That is not what I—” I groan. “I’m saying, you obviously thought about me!”
He shakes his head. “I thought about the wedding. The Bratva needs me to marry, so I will. Who is standing next to me while it takes place is completely inconsequential.”
Inconsequential. That about sums it up. The way I feel in this house, in this room, in his eyes.
And I hate it.
I stand up, covered in a haphazard bundle of lace and gauze. “Is it inconsequential that you can’t seem to keep your dick out of me?”
Adrik assesses me with a cool expression, studying me like a problem that needs fixing.
Then, slowly, he stalks towards me. One step in front of the other. Like a panther on the prowl.
“Fucking you is fine,” he says. “Good, even, when you beg for my cock and come on my fingers like a little whore. But if you think for a second that I can’t find another willing woman somewhere else to walk down the aisle with a smile on her face, you’re deluding yourself.”
I roll my eyes, trying to hide how deeply his words wound me again and again. “Okay, then go find—”
“I’m not finished.”
He’s directly in front of me now. His hair is mussed from the sex, and the light coming through the window catches the wild strands until they glow around his head like a flaming crown. Right now, it’s impossible to believe he’s even real and not just a figment of my darkest imagination.
“You struck a deal with me,” Adrik rasps. “I’ve upheld my end. I’ve taken care of your daughter and Malcolm Waters is no longer an issue. Now, it’s time for you to uphold yours.”
“I’m not some dog you can order around,” I say, even as I cower back. Adrik is tall in an objective sense. But more than that, he feels tall. Like an animal raising its hackles, he seems to grow when he’s angry.
“I think that’s exactly what you are,” he replies acidly. “Hell, I might even put you on a collar and leash.”
I raise my hand as if to slap him, but Adrik grabs my arm and pins it to my side. The lace that is loosely covering me falls away, revealing my breasts. Cool air rushes over my still-pointed nipples.
But Adrik doesn’t even spare my naked body a glance.
“All you have to do is walk down the aisle and pretend to be my wife while my father is watching. It’s a simple task. Even a few of my maids who don’t have two brain cells to rub together could do it,” he says. “So yes, I expect you to show up and play your part. I expect you to do as I say.”
I lift my chin. “And if I don’t?”
“Then the deal is off. You and Isabella leave. And you go back to fending for yourself… or fending off Malcolm Waters. Whichever comes first.”
He shrugs as if it really is inconsequential. As if it doesn’t matter to him, either way.
I stare up at him, hoping the conflicting emotions working through me aren’t written all over my face. It has just hit me all at once that… I don’t know what comes next.
This thing with Adrik is confusing and, most importantly, temporary. Even under the best circumstances—or the worst, I guess—we stay in his mansion for a few months while he waits for his father to die. But it could be only a matter of weeks.
And then what? Where will Isabella and I go?
And who will Adrik actually marry?
I look at him, at his too-handsome face and his too-chiseled body, and try to imagine his female counterpart. I try to picture the kind of woman who could stand next to him and look as though she belonged.
But I can’t picture anyone.
Actually, that’s not quite true. Because, maybe worst of all… I can picture myself.
And no matter how hard I try to fight it, the image won’t die.
I try to drum up something to say. Something snarky, preferably, but the tumult inside of me makes it impossible to find the words.
Adrik grows bored and turns away. “Whatever you decide, you should tell Isabella. Soon. You’ll want to prepare her for harsh reality.”
As if on cue, there’s a knock on my door.
“Hello?” Isabella calls. “Adrik? Mama?”
“Shit,” I mutter, throwing the lace on the ground and lunging for my clothes. “What’s she doing here?”
Adrik smooths his hair calmly in the mirror. “I’m taking her to lunch.”
I twirl around, jeans halfway up over my thighs. “You never asked me about that.”
“Because I don’t have to. This is my house.”
“And that’s my daughter,” I snap in a hushed whisper.
“We’re getting married. What’s yours is mine, kiska.”
A buzzy kind of thrill works through me at the thought, but I bat it away quickly. Adrik doesn’t want to be Isabella’s father. Maybe he has been nice to her, but that doesn’t mean he cares about her. Or me, for that matter. He’s just using her to get under my skin for his own twisted pleasure.
"Do whatever you want to me—"
"Careful what you wish for," Adrik interrupts.
"—but don't mess with my daughter."
Adrik walks past me and casually glides to the door. "Are you planning to put on a shirt before I open it, or…?"
I'm still naked from the waist up. I curse under my breath and pull on a t-shirt just as Adrik answers the door.
"Isabella. Good to see you."
"Hi, Adrik," Isabella says with a shy giggle. "How's it hangin’?"
He chuckles. "Did Stefan teach you that?"
Isabella responds with another giggle.
Adrik starts moving into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him, but Isabella wheels forward and blocks it with her chair.
"Mama?"
