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“Your brother saved my life. He’s saving my friends’ lives. I owe him, is what I’m saying. You can trust me.”
Anya tips her head to the side, sympathy written all over her face. Then she grabs her purse from the end of the bed and walks towards the door, stopping for only a second to lay a hand on my shoulder. “First rule of surviving in our world, Cora: don’t trust anyone.”
Before I can say anything else, Anya closes the door behind her.
28
CORA
My phone rings not long after Anya leaves. “Hi,” Jorden says when I answer, her voice surprisingly sharp. “Do you have a second?”
I sit on the window seat and tuck my feet under me. “I have nothing but seconds.”
“Has Ivan said anything to you?”
I chew on my cheek. “He’s said a lot of things.”You’re an empty vessel I can use as I please. As bait. As a wife. That’s what makes you perfect for this, Cora.“Like what in particular?”
“Like…I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Something about what is going on. You said everything is fine, but these two massive men are standing outside my apartment right now and I’m kinda freaking out.”
I’m on my feet before she even finishes the sentence. My heart is in my throat, thundering away, making it impossible to breathe.
“Are you okay?” I choke out. “Who are they?”
Maybe I can yell for Ivan. He’ll know what to do. He could get someone to her faster than the police could, surely.
“Guards, I guess.”
I frown. “Guards?”
“Yeah, that’s what Yasha said.”
I close my eyes and try to calm the storm of panic in my chest. “You talked to Yasha?”
“He called me an hour ago and told me he was sending guards to watch my apartment.”
I drop my face in my hands and blow out a long breath. “Okay. Lead with that next time. I thought you were about to be kidnapped.”
“What? Is that a possibility? Is that why I have the guards?”
This Jorden is a much different version than the one I spoke to a few hours ago. Before, she was wrapped up in the charm of my whirlwind romance. Now, she sounds terrified.
“No. You’re not going to be kidnapped. The way you said that just scared me.”
“That makes two of us, Cora! What the fuck is going on?”
Which is precisely the title of this chapter of my memoir, for sure.What the Fuck Is Going On?: Why you shouldn’t hook up with billionaires at an arranged marriage party. By Cora St. Clair.
Wait, no—Cora Pushkin.
I shiver.
“What did Yasha tell you?”
“Nothing. Well, almost nothing. All he said is that I was going to have guards outside my apartment. But why? He wouldn’t answer any of my questions. Obviously, something is going on that I don’t know about.”
I keep chewing on the inside of my cheek until the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. “There’s a lot going on that I don’t know about, too,” I say finally. “But Yasha is just trying to keep you safe. Marrying Ivan is… It’s a risk. When word gets out, my friends could become targets.”
There’s a long pause before she speaks again. “And this has nothing to do with him being in a Bratva?”
