Page 62 of Vendetta Vows

"They're not all seven thousand dollars," I protest weakly.

"What, are some only five thousand? You poor thing."

I can't help the smile that spreads across my face despite the heaviness in my heart. This is the Hannah I know and love. Sarcastic, protective, and refusing to let me take myself too seriously.

"I'll talk to you soon," I promise.

"You better. Goodnight, Aurora."

"Goodnight, Hannah."

I end the call and stare at the phone in my hand, feeling both relieved and incredibly alone. My closest friend is just a phone call away, yet somehow it feels like we're in different worlds now.

Because we are.

I set the phone down and stand up to look out the window. Beyond the glass, the sky is alive with stars, clearer up here in the hills than I've ever seen them in the city.

That tower he's keeping you in can turn into a prison real quick.

Hannah's words echo in my mind as I press my palm against the cool glass. Is that what this is? A gilded cage? A prison with heated floors and designer clothes?

Maybe.

But would that be such a bad thing?

For seven years I've lived in fear, constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for Kristofer to find me. And here, for the first time since that bloody night, I feel... safe.

It's ridiculous. I'm in a mansion full of armed men who work for a man who shot someone right in front of me. By any reasonable definition, this should be the most dangerous place I could possibly be.

And yet.

When Ruslan looks at me, I feel safe. When his hands touch mine, I feel anchored. When he tells me he'll protect me, I believe him.

"Jesus, Aurora, get it together," I whisper in the darkness.

Is it just because he's my only option? That he happened to be there when my world imploded again? That he's offering protection when I need it most?

Or is it something more?

I close my eyes. Would he come find me in the dead of night? Would he hold me against the window, whisperingzarechkain my ear as pushing my legs apart?

I force my eyes open, my breath ragged and shallow. The fantasy burns bright. His hands gripping my waist, his mouth demanding on mine as he lifts me in his strong arms towards his cock.

"Stop it, Aurora," I mutter to myself, pressing cool hands to my heated cheeks as I remind myself of the situation at hand.

I made a deal with the devil. I agreed tomarryhim.

The thought should terrify me. It should send me running for the hills. This isn't some romantic comedy where a marriage of convenience blossoms into true love.

This is the real world.

His world.

Full of violence and death and powerful men who treat lives like chess pieces.

I need to focus. I need to keep my head clear and my priorities straight.

The last thing, and I mean the absolute last thing, I need right now is to be thinking about how desperately I want him. How I imagine his hands on my hips, his mouth on mine, and his body pressing me into that ridiculously expensive mattress across the room.

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