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Ivan rolls his eyes. “I need to talk to him about a lot of things. I had it all handled. He shouldn’t have worried you over nothing.”
Her hand reaches out to stroke his cheek. Ivan ducks away, but she forces the contact, patting his face. “I’m always going to worry about you, Ivan. I love you.”
I swore to myself that I didn’t care how many women Ivan had been with or would be with. It’s none of my business. He is going to get married one day and have children with another woman. None of that is my business.
Because this ispretend.
We arepretending.
No matter how many ways I explain it to myself, though, it doesn’t change the fact that my jealousy is very, very real.
“Oh,” the woman says. “And who has been in my room? There are clothes on the bed and my closet is a mess. Niles is slipping up with the cleaning around here.”
Herroom? I turn to leave before I do something I’ll regret, but Ivan’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“That was Cora. She’s in the living room, if you want to meet her.”
I mouth a curse and spin around, screwing my face into a smile.
Ivan swoops into the room, his arm around the woman’s shoulders. Even from the back, I knew she was beautiful. Now, there is no doubt.
She has a heart-shaped face and rosy apple cheeks. Her lashes are long enough that they might still be attached to the goddess who must have bestowed them on her.
I can handle a lot, but being introduced to my fake husband’s mistress is pushing me a wee bit beyond my comfortable limit.
“Cora,” Ivan rumbles. His voice is deep and casual. He doesn’t sound guilty at all. “I’d like you to meet—”
“I’m Cora,” I interrupt, holding my hand out to the woman. “I’m Ivan’s fiancée.”
What in the hell has come over me? Who am I?
I glance at Ivan. His mouth is a tight line. The dimple in his right cheek is making an encore appearance for a very different reason.
Screw it. He didn’t want me to tell her? Then he shouldn’t have brought her here.
I expect the woman to be upset, but she’s smirking. Actually…she’s shaking like she wants to laugh, but is holding it back.
“Nice to meet you, Cora. I’m Anya.” Her hand is silky smooth in mine. She’s never done a day of work in her life. “Ivan’s sister.”
My running list of “Reasons Why This She-Devil Is The Absolute Worst And Deserves A Fiery Death” freezes mid-scroll. If this was a cartoon, my eyes would bug out of my head.
“Sister,” I breathe. “You’re his…sister. You’re siblings.”
“And you’re his fiancée!” She elbows Ivan in the side. “That would’ve been nice to know, too.”
Ivan mumbles through a half-hearted excuse, but I’m so overcome with relief that I’m not paying attention.
The guest room wasn’t for a harem of sexual partners. It was for his sister.
The knot in my stomach eases. My chest doesn’t feel as tight. But the relief is chased by a bolt of panic because I shouldn’t feel relieved at all.
None of this is my business and I can’t afford to care about my fake husband.
25
IVAN
“When did allthishappen?” Anya wags a finger between me and Cora.
