AllFreeNovel
Share Us
STAR
Time to accelerate my plan of escape.
Lucian pulls out a Glock from the console of his car and places it in reach as he races down the street.
Most women would freak out over something like this, but I’m not most woman. If anything, it’s a relief because it confirms that he hadn’t been lying to me. The danger is real. The only question is whether those Russian goons are interested in me because of Lucian or because I’m Tatum’s sister.
Call me paranoid, but Tatum did explode the car bomb that killed their boss and second-in-command. Before he left, Tatum told me that no one knew who did it but me, mysef, and his two brothers, who were also involved. But what did he know? Maybe they weren’t careful and the Bratva have known for a while.
I shrink back into the leather seat, panting out shallow breaths.
In that case, I’m lucky to be alive.
Either way, I’m in a precarious position and my best option is to get out of here. My brain scrambles to makes sense of this new reality. I have money and I’m a straight A student. I can finish high school anywhere. I can hide out in a boarding school in Switzerland. Surely, no one would find me there.
Lucian grips my thigh and squeezes reassuringly. There’s a painful ache in my chest at the thought of never seeing him again. Even that one, harmless touch sends pulsing need between my thighs. This guy is like a drug for me, and I’m turning into an addict because the idea of escape doesn’t fill me with excitement the way it used to—and it’s not just because I could be hunted prey.
It’s because of him.
Damn him for messing with my head.
“I’ll take care of you, Star,” he swears. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. But now you understand why we need to get married. As my wife, you won’t be considered Tatum Lupu’s little sister. You’ll be Lucian Popescu’s wife, the newconsilier.”
I glance at him in horror. “You must be kidding, right? That’s what you got out of this?”
His slate-gray eyes turn brittle and he slams a black velvet box on the console between us. “Like hell I’m kidding and, yes, that’s exactly what I got out of this. It’s the only sane solution.”
Such a tiny innocuous-looking object and yet it strikes terror in my heart. “I won’t marry for protection. If anything, I’ll move up my plans for leaving. The sooner I disappear, the better.”
“The fuck,” he snaps. “That will only make you more vulnerable.”
He bares his teeth as his hands clench the steering wheel harder. He releases one hand and grasps my thigh again. “I couldn’t save my father, but fuck if I let you die, even if I have to save you from yourself.”
“Not if you don’t find me first,” I shoot back, trying to shove his hand off me. Like usual, any struggle on my part makes him double down. His fingers tighten around me.
“And what the hell do you mean,save me from myself? I’m eighteen years old, a grown woman. I control my own trust fund. I’ll decide my future, not you and not my mother.”
“Speaking of your mother, are you really going to abandon her?”
That accusation rocks me to my core. He just identified the one major stumbling block in my plan. Of course, I know she’ll be alone, and I volley back and forth between leaving her in anger and trying to find a solution.
Before I can reply, he continues, “Will you stop being so damn stubborn and listen to reason? I may be a fuckup at school, but this is my area of expertise, and you’re in serious danger.”
The air in the car suddenly feels hot and oppressive. I roll down the window and shove my head halfway outside, letting a gust of wind off the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway cool me down. It’s pitch-black outside, which means we’re passing over the long stretch of the Calvary Cemetery, nestled between the two boroughs.
Despite my flushed skin, a shiver whispers through me.
Staring out over the dark expanse, I have to admit that it’s time to listen to him. I’m just a high-school student without a made man to protect me and my mother. I’m trying to patch this Bratva story together from bits and pieces, but it’s hopeless. If I’m going to survive, I need to concede that he’s right. But damn him, I’m not going down without a fight.
Pulling my head back in, I reply, “You accuse me of being unreasonable, but you haven’t given me a motive to be reasonable. You intimidate me with threats of danger, and you order me around like I’m a child, but I refuse to be anything less than an equal. I’ll do what you say…on one condition. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on.”
“Why do you ask for the impossible? You know I can’t do that,” he replies instantly.
It’s a big ask, but I don’t care. Information is strictly controlled, even among made men, but he either gives me the information I want or I do this on my own. I’m done being treated like I’m less than.
“Then, I’ll run away. You may be my fake fiancé, but you’re not my husband. You have no real authority over me. You can’t force me to do anything. I know you’ve put a tracker on my phone since the night you found me in the gallery. I’ll ditch it and run away. I’ll be long gone before you can get me to the alter.”
His face twists into a scowl. I’ve got him and he knows it. It’s not like he can hustle me in front of a magistrate andta-da, we’re married. A political marriage like ours requires a showy Romanian wedding. Both clans will want to pull out all the stops. If anything, it’ll become a contest of who can outdo who.
