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“What do you mean, no?” He’s daring me to repeat it.
“I’m not going to lunch with your family. Are you mental? There is no way I’m going to sit there and make nice with Milos. If you put a knife in my hand I’ll use it on him.”
He doesn’t try to hide his annoyance, rolling his eyes.
Pissed at his dismissal of my words. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Aleksander. You don’t get to order me how to feel. I’m not a robot you get to program.”
His phone goes off again. Glancing at it, he sighs. “I have got to get to the club. I do not have time for a tantrum. Either you go tomorrow or—”
“Fuck you! I don’t give a shit what youror elseis. I’m not going.” I’m not a fucking child.
“You say that now, but I do believe you will regret the consequences of not attending. Think it through,zhena.”
* * *
Phoenix
Watching Aleksander walk away without looking back, I fight the urge to scream. What a complete fucker. I cannot believe him. How isheannoyed withmefor not wanting to be in the same room as the man who if not killed my uncle, then at least ordered him killed, which is the same damn thing in my book.
How is this my life? I’m supposed to make nice with the man who murdered my uncle? Aleksander can’t expect me to do it. This is so fucking hard. I planned—was positive I could pull it off, to pretend to give in to Aleksander then when he thought he could take his eyes off me, I was going to run.
Except everything is becoming all mixed up in my head.
Aleksander wants me. I’m not stupid enough to believe Aleksander wouldn’t lie to me. Yet when he told me he wanted me, I believed him. It wasn’t his words, it was the air around him, the heat in his eyes, the way his body went hard against mine.
God, just remembering it has my knees weak. I sag into the chair Aleksander was in. The list taunts me. Brat, slave, pet…a shiver runs through me. Any of these things I can have without Aleksander judging me a dirty whore. I close my eyes at how wet the words make me. My stomach twists, the submissive description has me taking a deep breath. Iwantto give up and in to Aleksander, which makes no sense. How do I trust him so deeply? And how the fuck can I pretend to do all this while still holding back enough not to get sucked into the riptide that is Aleksander?
Am I really going to be able to walk away from him?
A pen I hadn’t noticed is on the table. It’s gold, not real gold, it can’t be. I’m almost positive it’s not. Picking up the pen, I don’t think it’s real gold, it’s too heavy. It is a really nice fucking pen though. Who has a pen by Cartier? My husband, and he’s offering me everything he has without question.
Everything except my freedom.
CHAPTER17
Phoenix
Everything is bright. I blink fast to find Aleksander looking down at me from only inches away. He’s in bed with me. The curtains, normally closed until I opened them, are wide open soaking the room in sunlight.
“What are you doing in here?” I groan.
“Giving you time to get up and get ready for lunch with my family.” He’s daring me to tell him I’m not going.
This time I’m the one to roll my eyes. I slide off the bed and go into the bathroom. I pretend he’s not still in my bed. I’m annoyed at him for getting into the room when I locked it against him. I should have known a locked door is nothing to Aleksander. But still.
When I come out of the bathroom the room is empty. I hate the sad sigh that escapes me. Annoyed at him, I dress in one of his shirts and his boxers I’ve stolen. There is no way he’d drag me out of here in what I’m wearing.
Walking out of the closet, I find Aleksander putting a tray down on a bedside table. It’s got two carafes, one of water with ice and another with pomegranate juice. There are also two plates, one of sandwiches the housekeeper keeps made of roast beef and cheese I love, and a piroshki warmed and ready.
“What’s all this?”
Aleksander runs golden eyes over me. A hand wraps around my wrist, bringing me closer to him. Before I can open my mouth to argue, leather replaces his hand. Metal meets metal, the leather around my wrist is cuffed to a long metal chain that goes into the headboard. “You have a freaky weird sex bed?”
The asshole chuckles. “It’s not a sex bed. Those are supposed to be used for the canopy. Have I tied women to a bed before? Yes. Not to this one, however. You won’t go to lunch, fine. This will be your punishment. Since you like spankings so much they don’t count as a punishment.”
I’m a freaking idiot for daring to trust in this man. Not only has he held me against my will, married me without me even being aware, he’s chaining me to the bed like a fucking madman.
He’s giving me enough play I can easily move around over the enormous king bed. This is bullshit, I have one good arm anyway. Who in the fuck chains a woman with a broken arm to a bed?
