Page 4 of Vendetta Crown

And it's right on the Strip.

"Find anything good?" His hand lands on my thigh, and squeezes so hard that I wince from pain.

"The Hermitage Casino & Resort looks perfect," I tell him, scrolling through photos of impossibly lavish suites with floor-to-ceiling windows. "The view of the Strip is beautiful, especially at night."

My voice sounds convincing even to my own ears, despite the throbbing pain radiating across my cheek.

"I can book us a room right now if you want." I tap the reservation button, heart racing.

"Do it." Kristofer grins, reaching into his back pocket with one hand while keeping the other firmly on the wheel.

"Here." He tosses his wallet in my lap. "Use my card."

I open his wallet, fingers trembling slightly as I pull out a credit card. "This might be a bit expensive."

"Doesn't matter." Kristofer's eyes gleam in the dashboard lights. "Ruslan Dragunov's paying for it, remember?"

My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache.When this is over, you piece of shit, I swear to God I'll make you pay for everything you've done.

I enter the credit card details, selecting the penthouse suite. Under the special requests section, I quickly type: "Tell Mr. Potyomkin that Ruslan Dragunov's wife is being brought here, and she needs his help."

I hit submit before Kristofer can see, and feel a small measure of relief when I see the confirmation screen load with the reservation number.

"All done." I hand the phone back to him, forcing a smile despite my cheek screaming in pain. "I can't wait."

Kristofer's hand creeps higher up my thigh, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh. The low, guttural moan escapes his throat as he crushes the flesh under his touch before pulling back is nauseating.

"Seven years, Jamie," he groans, his eyes clouding with lust as he glances at me. "I've been waiting seven fucking years for you."

I take a deep breath, pushing down the revulsion threatening to choke me.

"Shouldn't we go to the hotel first?" I ask, keeping my voice light, "I'd like to freshen up a bit before the wedding."

His eyes narrow, suspicion darkening his features. "No. Wedding first."

"But sweetie..." I gesture to my face, wincing as my fingers brush the tender spot where he struck me. "I can't get married looking like this."

"You look fine," he growls, but there's uncertainty in his tone now.

"Look what you did to me." I press my advantage carefully. "To my face."

He doesn't say anything, but his grip on the steering wheel tightens.

"Don't you want our wedding to be perfect?" I reach over, and place my hand on his arm. Every nerve in my body screams in protest at touching him, but I force myself to continue. "Don't you want me to look pretty for you?"

Those words hit their mark. His expression softens, the egotistical need to show me off as a trophy overriding his suspicions.

"You've always been pretty, Jamie." His voice drops to what he probably thinks is seductive, but it just makes him sound more psychotic. "Even with a bruise."

"Please, Kristofer. I want to be beautiful on our wedding night." I fight back the bile rising in my throat. "I want to look perfect for you when you make love to me."

He considers this for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Fine. Hotel first."

Relief floods through me, but I carefully keep it from showing on my face. Instead, I smile gratefully, leaning back in my seat.

"Thank you." My heart hammers against my ribs as we weave through traffic toward the hotel. "You won't regret it."

As the massive building looms ahead, I offer a silent prayer that Vyacheslav received my message.

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