AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The moment I slide into the passenger seat of Misha’s gaudy silver convertible, he shifts the car into drive.
“I said ten minutes,” he growls. “That took twenty-three and a half.”
Sanka, the valet, just barely gets my door closed before Misha rips off down the driveway, engine snarling like a caged lion. The gates at the mouth of the drive open as if by magic.
“I decided to shower,” I lie.
My hair isn’t wet and it’s clear I’m lying through my teeth, but I don’t want to admit that I stood frozen in front of my closet for fifteen minutes trying to figure out which outfit would offend Misha the least.
Mostly because I hate myself for caring so much about what he thinks.
The burgundy slip dress I chose is one of the nicest things I own. I only pull it out for fancy occasions. Judging from Misha’s pinched expression, however, he’s not impressed in the least.
Serves me right for trying to pander to him. I should have tied up the bottom of Anthony’s old t-shirt and paired it with my combat boots. Ugly as it is, I think it made Misha jealous. And I prefer jealousy over disgust.
Oh, well. It’s too late now. Might as well focus on the horrors ahead, not the ones behind.
“Now that I’m in the car, where are we going?”
“Shopping.”
“Um… what?”
He doesn’t repeat himself. I glare at his aristocratically perfect profile, torn between the urge to slap the chiseled cheekbone catching the streetlights and taking out a pen and pad to sketch the man.
“You’re really taking me shopping?” I ask. “For clothes? But it’s late. Everything will be closed.”
“Not for me.”
“People are not going to open their stores just because we show up.”
“Everything is open for me,” he says. “By extension, everything is open for you, too.”
I am way out of my depth here. “Jeez. Life must be pretty boring for you if nothing is ever challenging.”
He looks taken aback, as if that had truly never occurred to him before. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that take.”
He takes the next turn fast without even bothering to signal. I have to grab the door handle to keep from careening into him.
His driving is a reflection of his personality. Confident, cocky, and abrasive as hell. He expects—no, heknows—that the whole world will just lie down at his feet as soon as he commands it.
The craziest part is that he’s right.
“If every door swings open for you a mile before you arrive at the threshold, where’s the excitement? Life is no fun if you don’t have to work for it.”
“I did work for it, which is why I don’t have to now,” he says. “You get to enjoy the fruits of my labor for free. You’re welcome.”
I scrunch my nose up in distaste. “I don’t want to be some sugar baby. I plan to work for whatever I have.”
“How has that been going for you so far?” he asks.
I set my jaw firmly. “I know I’ve agreed to marry you, but I’m not about to let you change who I am or how I live my life.”
“Sounds like just the kind of challenge you think I should be pursuing.”
I roll my eyes and turn my gaze to the window. He’s driving fast, but I know that asking him to slow down won’t accomplish anything. If anything, he’d probably speed up just to prove his point. To avoid the ensuing car sickness, I keep my mouth shut.
Life with Misha will be all about learning to pick my battles.
