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This is a long-term commitment. I can’t imagine his family will accept this if there’s any hint that what we’re doing is going to end the moment Rustik’s been deposed.
Which means playing the dutiful wife of an Irish gangster.
I glance over, and he’s watching me, saying nothing. His drink is down to ice and dregs. The man’s beautiful, but I can see the creature hiding behind his gorgeous gray-blue eyes, and I’m afraid if I decide to walk this path with him then I’ll never see my old life again.
I might as well go on the run, disappear, live by my own terms, instead of by this man’s whims.
Except running would mean letting Rustik win.
“You do realize marrying you isn’t all that appealing,” I say, trying to break some of the tension I feel building in my chest. “If I do this, I’d only do it to get revenge. Not for you.”
It doesn’t work. Liam’s smirk only makes the strange, bubbling desire in my guts worse. “I respectfully disagree. I’d make a wonderful husband.”
“How’s that, exactly? You strike me as the kind of man to have unreasonable expectations. I’m not the cook and clean type. I won’t be lying in your bed every night, ready to please you.”
“I swept you off your feet once. Saved you from the big bad wolf. Imagine what else I can do.”
“If Rustik’s the big bad wolf, you’re the swamp monster.”
He laughs. “We both know I’m better looking than that.”
“High opinion of yourself. From where I’m standing, you’re not so great.”
“Liar. You keep looking at me like you want to rip off the rest of that dress. And frankly, I’d love to watch you do it, so long as you went nice and slow.”
I shiver, shaking my head. “How are you thinking about sex at a time like this? My life’s falling apart.”
“And yet you’re still absolutely gorgeous. I mean, you’re krasotka.”
I roll my eyes. “Stop with the Russian.”
“You’re in luck, since that’s the only word I know. Learned it from a very talkative ballerina I once met.”
“Spare me the details.” I rub the bridge of my nose. “I can’t just go from marrying one stranger to marrying another. I just can’t. I risked everything to get away from that wedding.”
“True, and yet I’m offering you a chance to take what you really want. Big risks, big rewards.”
I look at him slowly. He’s staring back, his face serious. “Which is what? What, exactly, will you give me?”
“Revenge. Money. Power. Rustik Aslan dead. Proof that he killed your sister. Everything you want and more.”
I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. God, what would Liliya have done in this situation? Would she have married another killer if it meant getting what she wanted? If it meant getting revenge for her sister’s murderer? I wouldn’t want her to do it, but I think she would’ve anyway.
Before I can ask him more questions, the room’s phone rings.
I jump in surprise, staring at the black receiver as Liam walks over and answers.
“Hello?” His expression tightens, his eyes narrowing. “How many? When? Thank you. I’ll make sure you’re compensated.” He hangs up and turns to me.
“What?” I ask, feeling like my skin might melt from the anxiety.
“Rustik’s men are coming for us.” He sighs like this is a minor inconvenience. “We need to run. Again.”
Chapter 6
Alisa
“Can’t you just like, I don’t know, fight them?” He drags me into the hall, walking fast toward the elevators. He’s got one hand on my wrist and the other in his jacket like he’s gripping a gun. “Fight them like you did back at the wedding?” I shove the phone back down into my bra since that’s the only spot where it won’t fall out. I really wish I had pockets right about now. And shoes.
“I can, but there’s no guarantee I’ll win. Getting away and regrouping is smarter.” He curses softly to himself. “I don’t know how they figured out I’m here. Unless Rustik’s been keeping tabs on me from the start. Knowing that clever bastard, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. Luckily, I paid the front desk to keep an eye out.”
“You’re going to get me killed.” My heart’s racing, my palms are sweating. “But this is probably better than letting Rustik do it.”
“Quicker at least.” He doesn’t smile, and I’m not sure if I’m joking. “At least we’re having fun, right? Running around together, driving in fast cars. I bet this is the most excitement you’ve had in your life. Hold on.” Up ahead, the elevator numbers light up. My skin crawls as they climb and climb, getting higher and higher.
“It’s coming toward us,” I say, barely keeping my tone steady. “Liam. This isn’t fun. It’s not fun at all. Tennis is fun. Pickleball is fun. This is the opposite of fun. This is like jabbing needles in my thigh.”
