Page 59 of Forced Marriage Vows

Somehow, Mikhail’s able to tell as soon as he walks through the door.

“Hey, baby,” he greets, walking in and taking in the sight of me curled up on the couch. “I bought some takeout. You like Chinese, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, sitting up and feeling a swell of gratitude. “How was work?”

He places the food on the table, passing me some of the fried rice and pork.

“Pretty good. I had a meeting with some of the Bratva’s commanders. Zakharov nearly pissed his pants when I started interrogating him about some missing finances,” he says on a grin.

I gesture at him with a fork. “A good day to you includes intimidating and scaring people?”

“And it ends with me coming home to my wife and having a quiet night in,” he says without missing a beat.

“Romantic,” I mutter before taking a bite of some pork.

I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t skip a beat at that, though. But I need to be careful with Mikhail. I like him, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to show just how much. It makes me feel like I’d be losing, which I know is irrational.

He chuckles. “Your brother’s only a call away, Anastasia. And you can always go see him whenever you want.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you’re grumpy. It’s cute.”

“Everything I do is cute,” I state.

“Even the cockiness,” he agrees with a grin. “Come on, cheer up. We can watch a movie, anything you want.”

That manages to rouse a measure of excitement from me. “A horror movie sounds nice right now.”

Mikhail raises a dark brow.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You just never struck me as a girl who would enjoy horror movies.”

“I absolutely do not. But I figure being scared out of my mind will take my mind off everything,” I tell him.

“Sounds like a solid plan. And if you get too scared, you can always climb into my lap. And then you’ll have something even better to take your mind off things.”

“Pervert,” I say, rolling my eyes.

He chuckles before leaning in closer and kissing my cheek. “I’ll go take a shower and change while you pick out the movie.”

My eyes are fixed on him as he leaves the living room. When he returns, I curl into his side as the movie starts to play. And I don’t feel alone anymore, not even a little bit.

Everyone keeps telling me it’s okay to give him my heart. But he already has so much of it, which is terrifying. We’re in this big bubble now where the rest of the world can’t reach us. What happens when that bubble pops?

I get my answer a week later. Lucia and I are leaving our yoga studio after a particularly grueling session. Despite that, my chest feels light and I’m in a really good mood, listening to Lucia tell me all about her plans for the magazine. I already told her I was in a couple of days ago.

She’s telling me about her plans to work with a popular designer that incorporates nature into their work when a woman suddenly approaches us.

“Excuse me,” she says, standing in our path.

I stare up at her. She looks to be in her late twenties with curly blonde hair, light blue eyes, and a model-esque figure. I have never seen her before in my life, but her eyes are fixed on me determinedly and I can’t help but wonder why.

“Hi,” I say simply, waiting for her to tell us what she wants.

“You’re Mikhail Morozova’s wife, right?”

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