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“Okay,” I whisper.
“We’re good?” Alek asks.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
He leans down again, and this time, he kisses me until I’m a breathless mess wishing we were at home so we could take this further.
When he breaks the kiss, he stares deep into my eyes. “I wanted to plan something romantic, but that’s a thing of the past.”
Confused by his words, I watch as he pulls a little black velvet bag out of his pocket. My eyes widen when he drops a ring into the palm of his hand.
“This is the tracking device,” Alek explains, and taking hold of my left hand, he pushes a massive diamond onto my ring finger.
His thumb brushes over the ring. “Hopefully, this will keep the men away.”
I let out a chuckle. “So I just have to pretend I’m married to you?”
Alek’s eyes flick to mine. “There’s no pretending,moya malen'kaya lyubov'. You are mine, and I am yours. Forever and always. We’ll make it legal once I have my mother settled in the US.”
“I want a romantic wedding,” I demand.
The corners of his mouth lift. “Okay.”
Chapter 47
Alek
I’m still angry as fuck at that idiot who tried to make a move on my woman, then insulted her in front of me.
The memory of burying two bullets in Barry's gut and ordering Peter to let him bleed out before disposing of the body is the only thing keeping me calm.
It’s been a fucking week, and Everleigh is taking her sweet time packing. We’ve already put Vincent to bed, and my boy is in dreamland, yet it doesn’t look like we’ll be going to bed soon.
I glare at the box of linen, then mutter, “Why do you like to make me suffer?”
She gives me a surprised look. “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.”
I give the box another glare. “You’re taking forever to pack. Are you doing it on purpose?”
She climbs to her feet and lifts her chin. “Don’t take your foul mood out on me.”
Instantly I school my face into that of a saint. “I’m sorry,moya malen'kaya lyubov'. It’s just as soon as I have you and Vincent safely in my place, I can go to Russia to take care of business and bring my mother home.”
“Oh.” She glances around the kitchen that’s become her packing area. “You can go to Russia while I take care of the packing. That way, we kill two birds with one stone.”
“I’m not leaving you alone in this house,” I say, my tone leaving no space for argument.
Everleigh thinks for a moment, then sighs, “Fine, you can bring men over to help pack everything.” She gives me a look filled with warning. “But they’ll pack everything neatly. I don’t want my belongings thrown into boxes.”
Relieved that she’s giving in, I promise, “I’ll make sure they handle everything with care.” Taking hold of her left hand, my thumb brushes over my ring on her finger as I pull her closer. “So, that means you don’t have to pack anymore, and you can give me some attention.”
“What kind of attention do you want?” she asks.
“The kind where I get to bury myself deep inside of you,” I murmur, my tone low and deep.
Her pupils dilate, and her cheeks flush with desire.
“Before anything happens, I need to shower,” she says.
