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I glance around. “Where do you…sleep?”
“In my bedroom,” he answers all gruff.
I swallow. “Where will I sleep?”
“In the spare room.”
“Oh…” I’m half relieved, half disappointed.
“Did you want to sleep in my bed? Tonight?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“That’s probably not a good idea. This isn’t a real marriage, is it?”
“We said I do in front of a real priest.” He twitches, saying that. “I kissed you. We signed a marriage license. This marriageisreal.”
“But we’re not...”
“I married you so that vile eejit couldn’t hurt you. And to punish your father for daring to give you to such a piece of shite.” He reaches for my shoulder, where a delicate tendril of my hair sits. “You’re a Bratva diamond.”
I shake my head. “No, Stasia was his diamond.”
“If you don’t want to be here…”
Instead of on a plane to Russia with an animal, I’m in a house overlooking Astoria Harbor with a gentleman. I grip his suit jacket. “I want… I want to be here with you.” Considering the alternative.
“I understand. There’s no need to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.” Strength returns to me, and my voice grows tough. “I’m overwhelmed. That’s not the same thing.”
“Aye.”
I press down on my temples aware my face is a mess with ugly makeup that covers worsening bruises. “Why? Just tell me why you did this?”
Lachlan hesitates, his palms flat on the island’s counter. “Last night, I saw your fiancé. The man you were supposed to marry came out of a strip club. He was drunk and banged all the strippers.”
I’m not offended. Nadia, however, would have been. “He had a pregnant mistress and gave no indication he wanted to be intimate with me.”
“Men always want sex, Katya.” He reaches to touch my face again, anger brewing in his eyes. “I thought banging strippers the night before his wedding was the worst thing about him. If I’d known he’d done this, I might have murdered him last night. Spare you this horrible day.”
“Ihada plan, by the way. I wasn’t waiting to be rescued.”
“What was your plan, little one?” He folds his arms, smiling at me.
I understand alphas. My father is pakhan, for crying out loud, and beasts of men roam freely in and out of my house.
“My plan was to make a scene at the airport. My father didn’t shelter me. I know what’s going on in the world.” I stand up to Lachlan, but I’d have to jump to smack him, something I think he’d enjoy. “Everyone is on edge at airports. I was going to run to an officer and show off my bruises.”
Lachlan rubs his chin. “In the terminal where your father has a private plane? I’m sure he owns those TSA officers.”
“Private plane?” Why hadn’t I considered that? “I would have figured something else out. I’m not stupid or helpless.”
“I never thought for one moment you were stupid. East Side Performing Arts doesn’t accept stupid people.”
“You know where I go to college?”
“I know everything about you. Have for some time.” He inches toward me. The heat coming off him warms and excites me.
My throat constricts. “Why?”
