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“You just ripped my dress to shreds and we’re crammed between two freaking bushes. This isn’t nature and there’s nothing nice about it. Also, I don’t even know you, but I’m pretty sure you’re a crazy person.”
A crazy person that smells fantastic and happens to be absurdly gorgeous.
A crazy person with a sculpted body and the power of a demi-god.
“Still, I like the smell of the greenery, and you do have some rather fetching assets.”
“Fetching—” I gape at him. “Are you flirting with me?”
“Three seconds,” he says. “And yes, I am.”
“Three seconds until what?” Dread fills my stomach. “Liam. Were you just distracting me so I wouldn’t be nervous?”
“Yes,” he says, grabbing onto my hand. “Now run like your fucking life depends on it, because it does.”
He pulls me, and we burst out from between the bushes.
I sprint wildly, breathing so hard it hurts my throat. He’s yanking me along, running faster but holding back so he doesn’t end up literally dragging me behind him. Ahead is a line of cars parked along a massive driveway. There’s a guard watching over a door to our left, the mirror image of the other side, but his back is turned. It takes me a second to understand—he’s lighting a cigarette.
That’s what Liam was timing.
We blow past him. I barely hear him shout in alarm. We burst out from the shadow of the house, down the line of cars. I catch a glimpse of the front stairs on my left, majestic and obscene, leading up to an enormous gold-framed door. Guests linger, sipping champagne. There’s a fountain in the middle of the driveway where more guests are perched, talking happily, as guards and waiters move among them.
Liam keeps running. “Don’t stop,” he says through his teeth.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to. He’s like a train loosed from its tracks, barreling ahead, barely under control. I’m doing my best to stay on my feet. I step on something sharp and suck in a pained breath, but ignore the agony in my sole and push on. Adrenaline’s fueling me now, dulling everything but the urgency of the escape.
Shouts ring out. I spot guards breaking from the guests and angling toward us. “Where’s your car?” I say between breaths. “Where are we going?”
“Just ahead.” A black Lexus at the very end of the row comes to life, the lights shining. Liam’s got his key out, rapidly stabbing a button. The car’s engine roars to life. “You’re in the back.”
“But what about—”
“The fucking back,” he snarls as we get close.
I risk a look back over my shoulder. Four guards are chasing, two of them getting close.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” I keep on cursing, my lungs burning, my legs on fire. Twenty yards, then ten. Liam lets go of my hand and pulls ahead, reaching the car first and yanking the back door open.
“Get in,” he shouts.
I throw myself at the back seat. It’s not elegant and I’m pretty sure he gets a glimpse of my underwear as what’s left of my dress rides up my ass, but the door slams before I can do anything about it. I sit up, staring out the window, as the two fast guards reach Liam before he can get into the car.
It happens so fast. Liam ducks a punch, knees the first thug in the guts, punches the second in the throat, and elbows the first in the back of the head. Both go down in an ugly heap as Liam throws open the front door of the car and gets behind the wheel.
“Did you kill them?” I ask, eyes wide, freaking out.
“Probably not.” He guns the engine, car peeling out. “Does it really matter?”
I say nothing, only stare at the wreckage of my wedding as Liam fishtails onto the driveway then speeds toward the main road, leaving my life and everything I used to know behind.
Chapter 4
Alisa
I pace back and forth in Liam’s hotel suite, staring at my phone as it explodes with calls and texts.
Mostly they’re from Papa. The messages were confused and plaintive at first. He begged me to come back. Said he’d make sure everything was okay, that he’d take care of me no matter what. That Rustik would make a fine husband. That what happened to Liliya was a tragedy, but not Rustik’s fault.
Then his messages got ugly. I could practically read the fear. He called me everything—spoiled, ugly, a bitch, a whore—said he regretted treating me so well, only for me to betray him. He demanded my return. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t.
Then my cousins began calling. An uncle, some friends of Papa’s that I’ve known for a while, even my godfather. Some tried to be kind. Some, not so much. All of them want me to go back to the Aslan mansion and go through with my marriage to Rustik.
