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His eyes linger on my body like he’s trying to decide whether to ask me to take it off or just let it go. Finally, he looks away. “My sister doesn’t hate you.”
“She doesn’t like me, though.”
“She doesn’t know you,” he corrects. “It takes her a while to trust new people. She’s worried we rushed into this marriage.”
“I explained why.”
“She understands why I needed to marry you,” he says. “She’s trying to figure out why you said yes.”
“Oh.” My skin prickles with discomfort. “She thinks I’m just some gold digger who cashed in on an easy life. Got it.”
He doesn’t rush to correct me this time, which says more than enough.
I reach up and grab my pendant, wondering what exactly the two of them talked about when they were out on the terrace smoking a cigar. I tried to stay focused on Nessa since she was obviously making an effort to bond with me, but I would have given anything to be a fly on the wall behind the last remaining two of the Orlov siblings.
“I’m not a gold digger,” I say at last.
“I wouldn’t have married you if I believed you were.”
So being pregnant wasn’t the only thing that qualified me to be Misha’s wife; there’s also the fact that he’s reasonably certain I’m not a soul-sucking, money-grubbing whore. How lovely. I’m not sure if I want the rest of the list of qualifications or not.
“Would it make a difference if I called your sister and invited her out to lunch? Maybe she just needs to get to know me better.”
“Is her approval so important to you?”
My face heats, but he’s not wrong. “I was watching the two of you tonight, Misha. You may disagree, you may not speak for a while, you may even hate each other sometimes—but at the end of the day, you love each other.”
“That doesn’t mean I need her to approve of my wife.”
“Well, it’s important to me,” I admit. “Because she’s important to you.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that. It will go straight to her head.”
I smile and decide now is as good a time as any to drop the next bomb. “Your mother was talking to me tonight, and… she wants us to have a proper wedding. And she wants to plan the whole thing.”
He doesn’t fly off the handle like I expect. He just sighs and rests his forehead against the cool glass for a moment. “I figured.”
Sighing again, he peels himself back to upright and walks over to the bed. I shadow him over there, eyes darting anxiously to the door and back like he’s going to make a run for it at any moment. I can’t help but wonder…Is this the night he’ll finally stay with me? Will I wake up next to him?
Is that even a good idea?
I shove those questions down and ask one that won’t send him running for the hills. “So I’m assuming you’ve already nixed the idea?”
“Actually, I’m considering letting her have her way.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re considering having a wedding? Like a full-blown wedding with guests and cake and dancing and flowers? Am I having a stroke? Is this real life?”
His mouth twitches in a facsimile of a grin. “I think it might be a good move.”
Something occurs to me, and my face falls. “But I thought you didn’t want Petyr finding out about us.”
Unease passes over his tired expression. He pulls the covers back and lowers himself into bed. My heart skips a beat. “The ship has already sailed on that one.”
When he lifts his gaze to mine, I understand what he’s not saying. “The brakes on my car… That was him? He was trying to kill me because I’m married to you?”
“He’s trying to send me a message,” Misha replies. “I need to send him one in return.”
“And you think a wedding could be that message?”
