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The view from the terrace never changes. Sitting here, the lights reflecting in the river—it could be a romantic moment. But it isn't.
"You've stolen me." Morgana's tone is listless. "That's all there is to it. My parents are safe. No money trouble, no creditors looking for them. But my life isn't my own."
"That was truebeforeI showed up," I say, topping off her glass of prosecco. "The bratva world isn't all bad. You'll have every luxury you ever dreamed of."
She confuses me. I didn't expect her to be delighted to marry me, and getting to know me won't make her any more amenable, but I thought my wealth might placate her.
I sip my vodka. "You were on the verge of whoring yourself out. Your father had no more money, and he'd have been murdered for sure. None of that is a problem now. I clicked my fingers, and it was gone."
"The same goes for people, right?" she asks. "It was kinda impressive, but I didn't want to witness those men being murdered, however much I hated them. I don't want your life. I wantmine."
"Okay, look. I have to get married to inherit the bratva and the money after my father's death. Once that's done, I don't give a shit if he croaks before the ink is dry. When he's gone, and everything is mine, you can leave and do whatever the fuck you like. But you'll remain under my protection, and I'll give you ten million dollars a year by way of thanks."
Morgana says nothing for a moment. I expected a reaction; most find that kind of money impressive.
"I need to ask you something." Her voice quivers. "Am I expected to sleep with you? Is that part of the deal?"
Her fear shames me. Icouldinsist on fucking her—she has no power here. But I don't want to force her. My father did that to my mother, and it broke something in her soul.
I knock back my drink. "To be honest, I'd be delighted to fuck you, but I won'tmakeyou sleep with me. I don't want a wife who despises me more than necessary. It's dangerous. So we can keep sex out of it if you prefer, but as far as anyone else is concerned, we're screwing each other's brains out."
Morgana's eyes move over my body, and I detect a crumb of ambivalence.
"Unless you want to add some terms and conditions of your own,lisichka?"
"No." She looks away, but I see her blush. "I want my parents to survive and to get away from you. It's in my interests to cooperate with this insane charade."
"So we agree on something." I stand and reach for her. "Come on. I'll show you our suite."
* * *
"The entire floor is for you?" Morgana gasps as we exit the elevator.
"Learn not to show it if you're impressed by luxury," I say, "or you'll embarrass me in public. This floor used to belong to Mama. After she died, my father used to have parties up here and trash it, but since he got sick, all that stopped. I ordered a full refurbishment at the first opportunity."
We head into the bedroom, and I point at a second door. "That leads to our lounge and, beyond that, the dressing room. The ensuite has a walkthrough rainforest shower and a bathtub. My mother brought it from a Venetian palace, and it was her pride and joy."
Morgana touches the marble mantlepiece but avoids looking at the king-size bed. "So this is how criminal royalty lives."
The women who move in my circle are jaded. They don't care about themselves or the trappings of the lifestyle. But Morgana's desires can't be bought, and although she's unfamiliar with what real money can buy, I don't think she will ever become one of the superficial dolls that are commonplace in my world. She has ambitions, just like me, but she abandoned them to ensure the safety of those she cared about.
Something becomes clear as she runs her fingertips along the velvet drapes.
I can force her to marry me, keep her captive in luxury, and fuck her day and night if I choose, but I can't make hercare. Not about me.
"The kitchen is downstairs," I say. "Use the intercom by the elevator to call and ask for anything you like. The closet is stocked for you, but not everything will fit. Tomorrow you can do some shopping. You'll need a wedding dress."
"I need to call my friend and tell her what's happening. She works for Hektor too—shit!" Morgana spins to face me, her eyes wild. "Hektor's client will wonder where I am by now. There's no one to even take his calls."
"Hookers aren't hard to find. Tell your friend to meet you for a wedding boutique appointment tomorrow morning."
Morgana opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
"I need to speak to my uncle," I say. "Stay here and explore the suite, and I'll get us some food. Anything you especially like?"
"I'd kill for a burger." She frowns at my laughter. "Why is that funny?"
"I'm sorry. I don't know any women who eat. Most just pick at nothing. If you want a burger, that's what I'll get for you. I'm partial to them myself." I remember what I needed to ask her. "Who was your client, by the way?"
