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There’s dark amusement in his blue eyes. They trail over me again, and this time, I’m not sure it’s in any way romantic. He looks every bit like a lion admiring a zebra’s hindquarters.
“How will it look if your girlfriend shows up to the wedding covered in bruises?” I challenge.
He bites back a smirk. “I won’t leave any bruises.”
Goosebumps break out across my skin, and now, I just want to get this over with as soon as possible. I’ve changed in front of men before. Only when I was dating them and only after we’d had sex, but still, that was different. I cared what those men thought of me. I wanted to look attractive and appealing. I wanted them to think I was sexy and mysterious.
I don’t give a shit what Timofey Viktorov thinks of me.
That’s what I tell myself, anyway, as I grab the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head.
“Are you going to pick out Benjamin’s clothes, too?” I snap. “Or, hey! Maybe you could call up the bride and suggest a neckline for her wedding gown. I’m sure she’d love that.”
Timofey reaches for an emerald green dress on the bed and drapes it over his arm. “Benjamin won’t be going.”
I feel his eyes on me as I fold my sweater over the back of the armchair next to me and reach for the buttons on my jeans. With each sliver of skin being exposed, I feel more vulnerable. Both physically and emotionally.
Even though I told myself I don’t care what Timofey thinks, I can’t help but wonder if he likes the shape of me.
He’s been with a lot of women, I’m sure. How do I stack up?
I shove the thought away and shimmy my jeans down my hips.This is all fake. None of it matters. This is purely business.
I try to focus on the conversation instead of the cool air of the room washing over my bare skin. “Kids aren’t allowed at the wedding, then?”
“I didn’t ask,” he says. “And when we’re at the wedding, you’re going to forget Benjamin exists.”
I glance up at him, trying to discern something from his flat expression and failing. “What do you mean? Like, you want me to relax?”
“I meant exactly what I said. At that wedding, Benjamin doesn’t exist,” he bites out. “I don’t want anyone knowing about him yet.”
“If you’re worried about women being concerned you’re a single dad, you should be more worried they’ll think our ruse is serious and you have a girlfriend. If you’d rather I not go with you so you can prey on some jealous bridesmaids, then by all means—”
“I’m keeping Benjamin away for his own safety.”
My jeans puddle around my ankles as I jerk my attention back to Timofey. “Are you thinking the wedding will be dangerous?”
“In my life, there’s always the threat of violence.”
I kick off my jeans, and I’m so focused on what he’s saying that I barely recognize I’m down to my bra and underwear. A small, vain part of me wishes I’d known this was happening so I could put on a matching set. Or at least a pair of underwear that aren’t saggy from too many washes. My whole body is one hot blush.
“With a sales pitch like that, it’s easy to see why you needed a fake girlfriend. I’m not going if there’s any chance I won’t come home.”
He rolls his eyes. “Cool it with the dramatics. You’ll be fine. Benjamin is my heir. You’re no one.”
Ouch.
“And what does that mean?”
“As my sole heir, life will be dangerous for him. I want to make sure I have full legal custody of him and every protection put into place before anyone beyond the Bratva knows about him.”
“You’re saying people might want to hurt Benjamin? But he’s just a baby!”
“In your line of work, I figured you’d be used to the idea by now. People hurt their own kids for a lot less.”
“Yeah, but the last time someone told me their kids were in danger, it turned out she’d been diagnosed with schizophrenia and wasn’t taking her medication. She thought secret agents were trying to brainwash her children through their breakfast cereal.”
“This is no delusion. The threat is real,” Timofey says with all seriousness. “If the right person takes out Benjamin, they could stand to inherit everything I’ll leave behind.”
