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“Sure.” I extend my hand. “Let’s shake on it.”
Tosca smiles. “I’ll shake your hand when it’s done, boy. I’ll be in touch.”
He walks toward the bar and begins remonstrating with the still-furious Claudia. Thekomissiyamen disperse, and Vlad appears at my side.
“Any idea what he wants me to do?” I ask.
“No clue.” Vlad claps me on the back. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. Sal is full of shit—hisfamigliaisn’t as powerful as he likes to make out, and if he went to war with us, he’d lose. We have a lot of people we can call on if needed.”
“So I could have told him to fuck himself?”
Vlad shoots me a glance. “No. You insulted him, and that demands satisfaction. Thekomissiyaaren’t fucking pleased, but if Tosca is happy, they’ll let it go. You owe him, that’s all.” He shucks off his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. “But it’s been a while since an honor debt has been issued against a Kislev, so thanks for that. You’ve made us look like a bunch of clowns.”
I’m growing weary of this conversation. “Do you happen to know where Josie is?” I ask.
“Before Morgana went to bed, she mentioned setting Josie up in your suite. There’s no other available space.” Vlad raises an eyebrow. “So either your dubious charm will work its magic, or you’ll be getting acquainted with the couch.”
Our family’s mansion is massive, but Josie has spent enough time here to know her way around. “I’ll go find her,” I say. “A lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours, and she’s understandably unimpressed. For all I know, she’s booby-trapping the suite as we speak.”
Vlad grins. “Another party we’ve managed to ruin, but at least it wasn’t my fault this time.” He gives me a shove. “Go on,bratan. It’s technically your wedding night. Let’s see if you survive it.”
8
Josie
Morgana offered to stay with me, but I declined. She looked exhausted, and I didn’t want her to castrate Sasha with her bare hands when she found out what he’d done to me. My presence here is enough of a problem as it is.
Sasha’s suite is cold, sterile, and minimalist. Everything I hate in interior design. The bathroom is okay but too bright and sparse, and there’s no bathtub.
I shower quickly and throw on an ankle-length satin kimono, piling my hair on my head and securing it with pins.
What am I gonna do?I’msoscrewed. All I wanted was a dull, safe life where I didn’t have to think about my past. Now I’m married to Sasha fucking Kislev. Justassociatingwith him could get me killed, let alone being his wife.
I’ve lived in fear my whole life, just like my mom before me. Always waiting for a man to make demands, steal, hurt, or take. Never daring to believe I belong to myself. There’s always some asshole waiting to stake his claim.
Sasha is just another user. It’s my lot in life to be treated like an ornament at best and a piece of ass at worst. No one would ever put a woman as ruined as me on a pedestal.
I hear the suite door opening.
“Josie?”
I come out of the ensuite to see Sasha standing in the bedroom as though he has every right to be there.
“What are you doing in here?” I ask. “You didn’t even knock.”
“This ismyroom.” His expression makes me want to kick those straight white teeth down his throat. “Why would I knock? We’re married.”
I fold my arms. “We need to set some ground rules, Sasha. You have fucked me over monumentally, and according to you, I’m stuck with it, but that doesn’t mean you get to treat me like a—”
I stop myself from saying the word. He knows how I used to live. Will he mock me now?
A shadow darkens his brow. “You’re mywife, and I’ll treat you as such. I can be very generous in more ways than one. Try me.”
The air seems to crackle with the electricity between us, and I despair of myself. I want to try him, all right. He knows it, too.
“So I have to share this room with you?”
“Yep.” Sasha sits on the chaise longue and leans back, crossing his hands behind his head. “And before you ask, I’m not sleeping on the floor, on this couch, hanging from the ceiling, or anywhere else. You and I will be sharing that bed.”
