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EMERY
I lean across the aisle to check on Isabella. She's never been on a plane before—or a vacation of any kind, for that matter—and I'm worried the last twenty-four hours have been crazy for her.
But when I peek over, she’s slurping on a grape slushie out of a long straw and watching a movie on the screen set into the wood-paneled wall.
“I can’t believe there are slushies on this plane,” I mutter, dropping back into my seat.
"They cost pennies," Adrik says. “Not exactly a luxury good.” He’s reclined back with his ankles crossed, looking effortlessly cool even while relaxed.
“Okay, then I can’t believe you have a private plane.”
"I should probably get rid of it," Adrik comments. "Private planes are more trouble than they're worth."
"Then why are we using one now?"
He sighs. "Because we were just attacked. Remember?"
Adrik talks about what happened at our wedding so casually. I haven't gotten there yet. Even knowing that the priest is technically still alive doesn't stop my stomach from turning when I think of him lying face down in a pool of his own blood.
At the time, the scene was too shocking to think about anything else. And then we went straight into the shower, packing, and rushing to the airport. There wasn’t a lot of time to process and think about what actually happened.
But now…
"Does that happen to you a lot?” I ask as nonchalantly as I can. “Getting attacked, I mean.”
His voice is desert-dry. “Well, there was the time I got stabbed with a mail opener…”
I elbow him. “You know what I mean. You have enemies. Armed men who work for you. Our wedding was interrupted by the priest getting poisoned. None of that is normal.”
“You should broaden your definition of ‘normal.’”
“So that was normal, then? I should get used to random, unprovoked attacks like I’m living in a James Bond movie?”
He sighs and glances up at me over the phone in his hand. “If you’re worried for your safety or Isabella’s safety, don’t be. I’ll do what I need to do to keep you both safe."
“That’s not what I asked.”
Quickly, he flicks his seat to an upright position and turns to me. “Then what are you asking, kiska?”
The question has been there at the back of my mind since the night I first stood in his ballroom, staring up at the mythical gods and goddesses painted over our heads.
“I’ve heard people say you’re… connected,” I say softly, too embarrassed to go into the conversation head-on.
“Feels like an understatement, doesn’t it?”
I swallow. “Malcolm was a senator and well-liked and respected, but we both know he isn’t a good man. Things looking respectable from the outside doesn’t mean anything.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.”
“Exactly,” I say. “But you’re not like Malcolm.”
He snorts. “You think I’m a good man?”
“No. Hell no. Or, well… not classically, no. You’re sweet to Isabella and you’re loyal, but that doesn’t mean much. And you have big charity events and politicians over to your house, but… you’re not like them. You’re… dangerous.”
He leans closer, his voice a tantalizing whisper in my ear. “How dangerous am I, Emery?”
The obvious answer: incredibly dangerous.
He isn’t even touching me, and I feel like I’m about to combust.
That’s how dangerous he is. Enough to make me lose my senses.
But not this time. I straighten my spine. “Are you…” I clear my throat and rephrase. “You’re the leader of a… a mafia?”
“Is that a question or a statement?” he asks.
I stare at him, trying to find some hint of the answer in his face, but there’s nothing. How can he do that? Be cold as stone while making me feel molten?
“Both,” I admit.
For a second, Adrik looks almost disappointed. Then he drops back in his seat and stares up at the ceiling, bored. “No, I’m not.”
“Not what?” I ask.
“I’m not the leader of a mafia.”
He’s not telling me the truth. Not all of it, anyway. I feel like I’m sitting outside of a door with a lock pick set. The tumblers are rattling, but they won’t fall into place. Not yet, anyway.
I sigh and flop back in my chair. “Fine. Be cryptic.”
He laughs. “I gave you a straight answer.”
“You don’t know the meaning of the phrase,” I retort. “There’s always a catch with you. For every word you say, there are ten you don’t.”
“And that bothers you?”
“Of course it does!” I snap. “We’re married—allegedly—and I barely know a thing about you.”
“You have to give a little to get a little, Emery.”
When I look over, he’s staring at me. The desire that nearly overtook me in the shower is back again, coiling low in my belly.
I press my thighs together to tamp it down. “You’re disgusting.”
That earns another laugh from Adrik. “Tsk-tsk, moya zhena—we’re thirty-thousand feet in the air and yet your mind is still in the gutter. Not everything is about sex, you know.”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” I mutter. My face is flushed red.
He chuckles again. “Let’s play a game. Question for a question.”
I swallow and straighten up in my seat. “Okay. So are you in the—”
“Ah-ah.” He wags a finger at me. “You already asked your question. It’s my turn.”
“If I knew we were playing a game, I would have asked a different question.”
“Too late. My turn,” he says. “Why did you give up your inheritance?”
“That’s what you want to know?”
“Were you expecting this to be a game of truth or dare?” In a high-pitched, girly voice, he says, “‘Emery, do you have a crush on Adrik?’”
“You’re an asshole.”
“I’ve been called far worse.” He smiles and kicks my ankle softly. “Come on. Quit stalling and answer the question. I want to know why you would walk away from a fortune and spend your life depending on scum like Malcolm Waters.”
“I don’t like talking about it,” I mumble. “Ask me something else. I’ll tell you if I like you.”
“Of course you like me. You have eyes. And a pussy that gets wet the second I walk in the room. Now, answer.”
I nearly choke on a sip of water. It takes me several long moments of undignified spluttering before I get myself back together. Adrik watches the whole time, unblinking, unmoving.
“Well?”
I groan. “I didn’t have much of a choice. I did what I had to do to survive.”
“Most people would say inheriting millions makes it pretty easy to survive.”
“Not when you have to pretend to be someone else to get it.” I fold my hands in my lap, my fingers circling each other nervously. “I’m sure a lot of people would probably call me stupid for leaving. I mean… I didn’t exactly do so well for myself once I left. But I couldn’t stay there.”
“Why not?”
