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A wedding? I open the bathroom door to see Drago standing on the other side of the room, looking sexy as hell in gray jeans and a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“I have nothing to wear,” I mumble with the toothbrush still in my mouth.
“What?”
I roll my eyes and pull the toothbrush out. “I said, I have nothing to wear.”
Drago raises his eyebrows. “Are you fucking with me?”
“I can’t go in my old clothes. I’ll ask Jovan to drive me over to the store.”
Drago finishes buttoning his shirt and comes to stand in front of me. “I’ll drive you.”
I bite my lower lip to prevent an idiotic grin from spreading across my face. When I woke up, I was afraid he’ll start asking me questions about what happened last night, so I bolted for the bathroom. Looks like he forgot all about it, thank God.
“And how come everyone gets to have a wedding, and I only got a five-minute ceremony at the city hall?”
Drago braces his hands on the doorframe on either side of me and leans in close to my face. “Because those people are marrying for love. And you married for money, didn’t you?”
I force a smile. “I did.”
He dips his head even more, our mouths are almost touching. There’s that analyzing look in his eyes again, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“There’s your answer,” he says. “Get dressed. You have fifteen minutes.”
I watch his broad back as he exits the room. Once he’s gone, I turn around and stomp to the closet to rummage through the mess of clothes I stuffed inside when I unpacked. The space is rather large, but I have way too much stuff. One tear escapes my eye, and I quickly brush it away with the back of my hand.
I don’t understand why Drago’s words hit me so hard. It’s not like I was delusional about our motives. He married me because it was a lucrative business opportunity. And I married him because . . . I’m an idiot. It’s the truth. I shouldn’t have let my fear of being alone lead me into this disaster. Asya was right. I should have waited to meet someone I would like, maybe love, and only then think about marrying the guy. A shudder races down my spine.
Nope. I would never let myself fall in love. People whom I love have ended up dead because of me. Like my parents. Like my sister almost did. All because of me. This is a much better setup. Drago gets the connection to Cosa Nostra, the don gets his intel on the Serbian organization, and I get to not be alone. Zero emotions involved.
When I step outside fourteen minutes later, Drago is standing by the car, leaning on the hood with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes scan my pink-and-blue striped wide-leg pants then move up to my pink coat, and for a fleeting moment, a slight smile ghosts his face.
“Did that thing shrink in the wash?” he asks, giving my sleeves a quizzical once-over.
“Coats need to be dry-cleaned, not washed. And these are three-quarter sleeves.”
“Will you enlighten me on the purpose of a coat with short sleeves?”
I bat my eyelashes at him “To make me look pretty.”
Drago raises his hand and traces the back of his palm down my cheek. Those green eyes capture and hold mine. “If that’s the case, I’m afraid it doesn’t serve its purpose,mila moya.”
I gasp, shocked and hurt. I know I’m not the type of woman who could make men fall to their knees in front of me. And I’m certainly not in the same league as the woman I saw with him in that picture Ajello sent me. But to imply I’m ugly?
I start to step away from him but his free arm wraps around my waist, keeping me pressed to his body. His eyes are glued to mine, glistening dangerously. Taunting me. Daring me. Daring me to do what? To spit into his face? To start crying? No, that’s not like him.
The hold around my waist tightens. His other hand is still on my face, caressing my cheek. I squeeze a handful of his shirt in my fist and narrow my eyes at him, trying to decipher what this silent game is about. Drago bends until his mouth is just next to my ear.
“Your coat doesn’t serve its purpose,” he whispers in Serbian, his voice is husky and glides over me like liquid honey, “because you’re fucking perfect, Sienna. More beautiful than anyone I’ve ever known.”
My heart stops. And then leaps as if wanting to burst from my chest, beating at a frantic pace. What if he hears it and realizes I understood?
“What did you say?” I quickly ask.
Drago releases his hold on me and opens the car door for me.
“Time to go.” He switches back to English, ignoring my question. “Hurry up. I have a meeting this afternoon I need to attend.”
