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Annoyance, prickly and hot, edges down the back of my collar.
A distant part of my brain chimes in, “What does it matter?” If we get married, today, tomorrow, in a week, in three years, I’m still promised to Bianca. Bound to her for the rest of my life.
Andrei stands to meet me and drops a hand on my shoulder. “I hate to say it, but you made your bed, now—”
“Do me a favor and fuck off,” I say, brushing his hand off me as his gruff chuckle ripples through the room.
After Andrei leaves, I stay in the same spot, staring out the window for a very long time.
CHAPTERFIVE
BIANCA
When I wake,it takes my sleepy brain a minute to remember where I am, and why I’m in a room I’ve never been in before. But within seconds, it all comes rushing back to me. I’m in the home of Daniil Kozlov. The man who won me last night.
Jeez.
A picture of his handsome face materializes in my mind. A jaw cut from granite, piercing hazel eyes, more jade green than brown—except when he’s angry; then, they turn black like onyx. He is striking, no question. Like a shape-shifter, he can go from arrogant and flirty to protective and savage in one breath. And while he’s strangely compelling, I need to get away from him as fast as I can.
Sitting up, I find toiletries and a change of clothes folded neatly on a luxe gray lounge chair by the bed. Thank god. I’m still in last night’s dress, my hair is a rat's nest, matted down by sweat and tears. There’s nothing I need more right now than a hot shower and fresh clothes. And to brush my teeth.
Rising, I cast a glance around the room. It’s modern with clean lines. This place is no bachelor pad; it’s designer chic with a simple white palette and bold black-and-white photographs along the walls. I honestly don’t know what to make of Daniil other than he has a serious hero complex, and the ladies must love his roguish charm. His bravery was admirable, I suppose. Another woman may have even appreciated his efforts, just not me.
On top of the clothes and supplies, I find a note. It’s from Daniil letting me know that a business matter called him away this morning, but he wouldn’t be long. I hope this business has nothing to do with what happened last night. It’s best for all if last night fades into a distant memory, never to be mentioned again.
A hot shower soothes my aching limbs and raw nerves. Bruises stain my arm from where Jorge took out his aggression on me.
Bile rises in my throat as I consider how my return to him will go. I hate Jorge with the power of a thousand suns, but I need him. I’m so close. So very close. And I’ll make sure thatpendejogets exactly what’s coming for him.
After my shower, I dress in the yoga pants and T-shirt that were left out for me and leave my damp hair down to dry naturally. My stomach rumbles, and I venture out of the room to find food and caffeine, something to rouse me after only a few hours of sleep.
“Good morning!” A petite blonde that, like me, appears to be in her early twenties stands in the middle of the kitchen holding up a carafe of coffee and a plate of croissants. “You must be hungry. Come sit. Don’t worry, I’m harmless. Mostly,” she adds with a wink.
She looks vaguely familiar, like someone I met recently, but I can’t place her. “I’m Bianca,” I say, sitting down at the breakfast bar.
“And I’m Kira, Daniil’s sister. My brother asked me to bring some clothes and food over for you.”
I gladly accept the cup of coffee she offers and help myself to a pastry. Leaning on the breakfast bar across from me, she flashes me such a wide friendly smile, she must have no clue what happened last night. She likely thinks I’m last night’s hookup, which is probably for the best.
“Thank you,” I say. “Do you know when Daniil will be back?”
Glancing at her watch, she purses her lips in thought. “Soon, I think.”
Impatience thrums beneath my skin, but I don’t want to be rude, so I force a smile and ask, “Were you at the casino opening last night?”
“Yes, although I left early. I was pretty wiped after working all day and dancing up a storm.”
I nod and take a sip of coffee. “What kind of work do you do?”
A small smile lifts her lips. “I help run the family business. You know what the Kozlovs do I imagine?”
“I have a vague idea,” I say, waving my hands in front of my face. “But I didn’t think women were really allowed to work in that world. The bratva, I mean.”
“It’s not common. But my circumstances are different.” She inclines her head, pausing for a moment. “My brothers are different from mostvory. Made men in the Russian mafia,” she clarifies when my brows pull together.
“Interesting,” I mumble, unsure what to make of the Kozlovs.
She pours herself another cup of coffee. Carefully adding in sugar and milk before stirring for a while. “Aren’t you with Jorge Días? I saw you two together last night.”
