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“I’ll try and do it more often, honey.”
I watch her and Vincent walk off, arm in arm. When they think they’re out of sight, Vincent’s arm scoops around Bellamy’s waist and draws her close. He pulls her into him and kisses her deeply. I smile. I’m glad my daughter has found happiness in life. And I’m glad she’s found it with a man I trust with my life too. A man who has my utmost respect like Vincent. What they have is true love, undeniably.
They walk away, and I frown. It’s my wedding day. But I can’t honestly say it has anything to do with love. Christ, I barely even know Katrina. Love is not a word that’s even been invited to this discussion table. But God help me, I want her. I crave her, deeply. I lust after her with a fiery passion I’ve never felt before. For any woman.
I groan and think about last night. I can practically still taste her goddamn lips. I can feel the way her soft body moved beneath my hands. I can smell her.
I groan. I came last night, after leaving her. Back in my own room, I stroked my cock until I spilled my hot cum all over my sheets, imaging it was her. And now this: now we’re getting married. And soon, within the hour even, the little temptress down the hall will be my wife. My bride. Mine, to have and to hold.
To lust after. Though I know I shouldn’t. I can’t. She’s too young. She’s been forced into this. And she’s a goddamn Korolyov. Last night was gasoline thrown on a fire for me. But I still don’t know her. I still can’t ignore the very real fact that she could be a spy in my very house. A beautiful, seductive enemy, whispering to my other enemies.
With a scowl, I turn and march away to find Katrina. Ulterior motives or not, Salvestro has decreed that this is happening. So it is. Let’s get this over with.
Katrina’s been getting ready in the garden shed on the far side of the gardens. “Shed” is a subjective word. It’s more like a cottage, almost like a pool house. I prowl through the gardens. I come across a few pairs of men—some mine, and some Anton’s—in suits with guns. I nod to a few of my own men. I push through the last roses bushes and finally get to the secluded cottage. I approach, clearing my throat. Time to tell my bride it’s time.
But suddenly, I stop cold. The window next to the front door to the cottage has a pane smashed in. My sixth sense tingles. I tense and growl. And suddenly, I bolt. I grab my gun from the holster in my jacket. I hit the door at a charge, smashing it in.
Katrina screams and practically jumps into the air. I snarl, whirling with the gun out, clearing the corners of the room.
She’s alone. No threats. No danger. I blink quickly. I can feel my pulse still racing. I moved on instinct just now. I imagined someone being here to hurt her, and I moved to protect her. To keep her safe. It’s not a reaction I was expecting. I know she’s fine and there’s obviously no one here to hurt her. But the lingering fear is there gripping my chest.
“You’re alone.”
Katrina is breathing rapidly from me scaring the shit out of her. She nods quickly. Her eyes dart over my face. “Yes,” she whispers.
My eyes finally drink her in. And I groan. She’s a vision. She’s in a gauzy white, silky dress that hugs her body perfectly. I don’t know how Don Salvestro found a seamstress or whoever day-of, but the dress looks incredible on Katrina.
She looks incredible. I groan. No, she looks better that incredible. She looks stunning.
“The window,” I growl.
She blushes. “I knocked that coat rack over.” She points at the old wood and copper stand leaning against the wall by the door with one broken leg. Next to it is a small pile of swept up glass. “I’m so sorry about the glass.”
I chuckle quietly to myself. Christ, when did I get so jumpy? I turn back to her and smile. “It’s fine. I just…” I frown. “I thought you were in danger.”
She smiles shyly. “Just a danger to myself with how much of a klutz I am.” Her cheeks redden. “I… I don’t think you’re supposed to see me,” she says quietly. “You know, before…”
“I don’t think uncles are supposed to push marriages on you to settle business debts either,” I growl. “But here we are.” My eyes slide over her gorgeous white dress and all the curves it hugs. “I don’t hold much salt with superstitions anyways,” I grunt.
Katrina smiles. “Or traditional rules.”
“There are no rules when you’re at the top.”
She trembles. Her lip catches between her teeth. Fuck, being alone with her isn’t good. I need to resist her. But now that I’m here, I just fucking want her. I want those soft lips again. And I want more after. I want all of her.
I smile and put my gun away. “So, not in trouble.”
“No,” she says quietly. She smiles shyly and then frowns. “Well, I…” she shakes her head and trails off.
“What is it?”
Her cheeks are pink. “I am actually having some trouble with these heels.” She nods at the pair of strappy white sandal heels on the floor.
I smile. “Too big? Too small?”
“No, just a little hard to get into?” She blushes. “It’s a little hard to bend at the waist in this dress.”
“I’m sorry.”
