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“Got it!” the woman says, springing up like she’s fleeing a fire. “I think we’re done here.”
Ivan drops my hand like it stung him. I wrap my arms around myself to hide the shiver moving through me.
The woman pauses in the doorway. “It was lovely to meet you both. Good luck.”
I wait until she leaves the room before I sag in my chair. “She wished us luck like we’re going to war.”
In a way, I suppose we are.
He stands up and checks his watch. “Let’s go. I have things to do.”
“Ivan,” I breathe, “that was…not great.”
“She took some notes; she snapped our photo. People are going to read it and now, they’ll know we’re together.”
I chew on the corner of my lip. “Right…”
“What the fuck do you want?” he barks suddenly. “Should I have fingered you during the interview to prove to her that we’rein love?” He spits out those words like they’re poison.
What happened between us yesterday has existed within a bright, shiny bubble in my memory. Ivan has wasted no time in popping it.
“It would have been better than whatever surly, standoffish B.S. you just pulled! She probably saw right through the act and thinks I’m in a hostage situation.”
His nostrils flare as he spins towards me. “No one was holding you hostage yesterday. You begged me to make you come.”
“I didn’t mean that. I just meant—”
“As long as people find out we’re married, nothing else matters,” he spits. “This is all a means to an end.”
“Thanks for the reminder,” I whisper under my breath. “For a second there, I almost forgot.”
38
CORA
I’m on the back patio, twirling the diamond planet around and around my ring finger, when I hear the doors open.
I whip around hopefully. Then I’m forced to face the disappointment that floods me when I see it is Anya standing in the doorway rather than her brother.
I haven’t seen Ivan once since we got back from the interview. When I saw Niles coming out of his office a couple hours ago, even he looked frightened by whatever he’d seen in there.
High Lord Ivan is in a foul mood, it would seem.
“Howdy.” Anya sounds friendly enough, but I can see the wariness in her eyes as she approaches.
How am I supposed to behave around my pretend sister-in-law after lying to her about loving her brother? I settle for a stiff wave. “Good to see you again, Anya.”
She stops in front of me and lifts her huge designer sunglasses up into her wavy hair. “Is it? Because you look miserable.”
Whatever nonsense I was about to say falters.
“Easy.” Anya eases into the chair across from me. “I know the truth, remember? You don’t have to pretend to be happily in love in front of me. What has my brother done now?”
The last couple days rise up like bile in my throat. The need to tell someone—anyone—what is going on is almost overwhelming.
But I can’t tell Anya about my dirty dreams or the sex shop or the way I can’t decide if I want to smother her brother with a pillow or drag him beneath the sheets with me.
“Nothing. Everything is great. We’re doing fine.”
