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“There’s a small cut. I’ll clean it, but I don’t think the injury is serious.” The doctor looks at Armani. “Just keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours. She might have a concussion. If she starts to vomit or experience severe headaches, bring her back to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Turn so I can check your back,” the doctor instructs.
I do as I’m told, and when he lifts my top, I help to hold the fabric in place.
Armani takes a sharp breath, and I can feel his eyes burning on my skin. “It looks worse than before.”
“Please remove your shirt,” the doctor asks.
Feeling shy as hell, I pull the fabric over my head and cover my front with it. The doctor’s fingers probe my back, and he smears something over the welts.
I clench my teeth when my skin burns from all the touching.
“Do you experience any pain when you breathe?” he asks.
“No, Doctor.”
“Any pain in your neck?”
“No.”
He presses on a couple of spots, checking if it causes me discomfort, then says, “Just apply the ointment after every bath. I’ll give you something for pain.”
I want to tell him it’s not necessary but keep quiet.
“You can put your shirt on, Miss Petrov.”
I quickly pull the top over my head and cover myself. When I turn around, Armani looks like he’s about to kill someone.
When his eyes lock with mine, he visibly calms down again. It amazes me how much control he has over his emotions. I wish it were that easy for me.
While waiting for the doctor to bring the painkillers and ointment, I get lost in my thoughts, worrying about how much trouble I’ve gotten myself into. A sore back and a bump on my head are the least of my worries.
Last weekend all I had to worry about was being alone, and now my entire life has been upended. I always knew I’d have an arranged marriage and it might not all be sunshine and roses. I thought I could handle it like so many women before me.
But things are always easier said than done.
Maybe Armani won’t be as abusive as Karlin. After all, Armani is one of Misha’s best friends. My brother would never set up an arranged marriage with someone who would hurt me.
I trust Misha to do what’s best for me.
“Tiana.” Armani’s fingers wrap around my bicep, and I flinch as it rips me out of my worried thoughts.
Immediately he lets go of me and takes a step back. His eyes narrow on my face, but he doesn’t comment on my startled reaction.
He jerks his chin toward the door. “Let’s go.”
I spare the doctor a smile. “Thank you.”
Following Armani out of the infirmary, I stick close to his back. It’s only when we head up the stairs that I realize I have nothing with me but my purse.
How am I going to get any of my clothes and my personal belongings?
Armani opens a door and waits for me to enter. It’s not the same suite I stayed in last weekend.
“You can freshen up in the bathroom while I order something for dinner,” he says.
I feel painfully shy as I walk to the bedroom, and when I see men’s clothing in the walk-in closet, I realize this is Armani’s suite.
My eyes lock on the bed, and my cheeks go up in flames as the full impact of an arranged marriage with Armani hits. He made it clear we’ll be loyal to each other, which means he won’t look for pleasure elsewhere.
He expects the marriage to be consummated.
Goosebumps spread over my skin, and I turn around to look at the man who’ll become my husband.
He’s busy pouring himself a drink, looking coolheaded and in complete control of his surroundings again.
Armani is as handsome as they come, and if I only consider the physical aspect, the thought of sex with him doesn’t scare me.
But being physically attracted to someone is not the only thing that matters.
Will Armani learn to love me? Will he be able to think of me as a woman instead of his friend’s little sister?
Will he see me as an adult or a child he’s stuck with?
Armani’s eyes flick to me, and for a moment, we just stare at each other.
His voice is patient and soft as he says, “You can ask me anything.”
Nothing is set in stone yet. I might still end up marrying Karlin, so it’s no use asking such personal questions.
“Am I going to stay in this suite…with you?”
He nods. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until Misha’s back.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a comforting smile. “It’s for your protection. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
My eyes dart to the couch that’s too small to fit Armani’s body. “I’m smaller. I’ll take the couch.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not open for discussion.”
