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The tremors eventually subside. I hold my breath, half-expecting for the plane to start shaking again. It’s only when the captain buzzes in over the jet’s speakers that I allow myself to relax.
“Sorry about that, Mr. Antonov. We hit a series of unexpected air pockets. I’ve taken us to a higher cruising altitude, so it should be a smooth flight from here on out.”
“Carry on,” I say clearly.
Seriously, can this day get any worse? First, I had to get married, then I had to hunt down my escape artist wife—the same wife who’sstill holding onto me.
Alina sits across my lap, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. She’s balled up my dress shirt in her small hands, grip so tight I’m worried she might tear straight through the cotton. She weighs next to nothing in my arms, her frame petite and easy to hold.
“Are you alright?” I ask her as gently as possible—which isn’t that gentle at all.
Her cheeks and the tips of her ears quickly turn a bright pink. She makes no effort to move away. I don’t exactly rush her, either. The enchanting scent of her lavender perfume makes my head spin and my throat tight. I can see now that Alina’s eyes aren’t just green; there are specs of gold around the rims of her irises. Dazzling.
“I’ve broken my vow again,” I say.
“S-sorry,” she mumbles, carefully shuffling off my lap. “Are there any sleep aids on this thing?”
This private jet belongs to me, so I know for a fact there are. I’ve instructed my small on-call crew to keep it stocked with all manner of amenities. I toss my chin toward the cupboards across from the bathroom stall in the back of the jet. I say nothing as Alina shakily makes her way over, rifling through the cabinet above the sink to find a small bottle of pills.
“One is enough,” I tell her, speaking from experience. The dosage is strong enough to make a man my size more than a little drowsy.
She takes two, swallowing them dry, before returning to her seat. Alina works silently, shutting the window visor, popping on her seatbelt, and reclining the seat so she can lie flat. She curls in on herself and closes her eyes, but she’s not fooling me. I know she’s only pretending to sleep right now. I guess she’s tired of talking my good ear off.
Deep down, I know this isn’t going to work out. I’m never going to love this woman, and I doubt she’ll ever love me. We’re too different. She’s a wild child, full of fire I don’t have the energy to tame. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I’m the stick in the mud. All work and no play makes Pyotr a dull boy. Alina would sooner die of boredom.
Just start small, Pyotr.
I sigh. Maybe there’s no need to love each other. Plenty of marriages have functioned on less. Going forward, I’ll take my twin’s advice and practice patience and understanding. Hopefully Alina and I can find a middle ground, one where we can passably tolerate the other without being absolutely miserable.
Shrugging off my suit jacket, I rise from my seat and drape it over Alina’s smaller frame. She snores softly, my clue that she’sactuallyasleep. Those pills worked like a charm, and I’m sure she’s endured more than her fair share of emotional drain.
I sit back down and sink into my chair, returning my attention to my phone.
There’s still five hours remaining of our ten-hour flight.
Chapter 5
Alina
I’m excited to be in New York, but I’m too exhausted to let it show.
I’ve read about the city that never sleeps in plenty of books. I’ve seen the skyline in a thousand different movies and television shows. But actually getting to be here in person is a different sort of thrill.
The air smells different. I don’t know what it is, but I welcome the change. There’s so much to take in that my brain has trouble processing it all. Car exhaust, rainwater, a salty fish smell coming from the Hudson River. The mouthwatering scent of dollar hotdogs from food trucks parked on the curb, the passing waft of cigarette smoke, and the strong colognes of passing businessmen.
“This way,” Pyotr says gruffly. His large hand hovers over the small of my back, but he doesn’t touch me. He’s been taking this whole vow thing very seriously ever since our incident on the plane.
My heart stutters at the memory. The hard press of his body beneath mine was almost unbelievable. Pyotr’s size is the most obvious thing about him, but tofeelthe rolling muscles hidden beneath his stuffy suit… I couldn’t believe how solid he was, how sturdy and strong. It makes my cheeks warm and the butterflies in my stomach flutter.
Not to mention how badly I wanted to kiss him. The thought leaves me torn. I don’t want to like this man, but in that moment, all I craved was his comfort. His voice was hypnotizing and soothing beyond description. The way he helped me calm down… For a second, I got to see a glimpse of the man beneath his icy facade.
And to top it all off, I woke up a few minutes before landing to find he’d covered me with his jacket. I wasn’t expecting him to do something so kind. He hasn’t mentioned it, and I don’t know if I should bring it up. We’ve settled for a strange, unspoken understanding. I suppose it’s better than butting heads every chance we get.
The building is impressive, an architectural marvel. Constructed of seemingly endless sheets of glass, it reminds me of a shiny crystal sprouting up out of the ground, stretching all the way to the highest reaches of the skies.
A uniformed doorman greets us with a big smile, opening the door with a flourish of the hand. “Mr. Antonov,” he greets warmly. “And who might this lovely young lady be?” There’s something almost flirtatious in the way the doorman smiles.
As he holds the glass door open, his jacket lifts ever so slightly. I catch a peak of the gun holster he has hidden just beneath. No, this is no doorman. This is one of Pyotr’s bodyguards.
