Page 37 of Bound Vows
His thumb traces my lower lip with feather-light pressure. “You’re imagining things, Piccola. You must learn to temper your jealousy.”
“Even if I am, having your dead wife’s sister plan your second wedding seems like either supreme confidence or complete obliviousness. Which one are you, Andrei?”
“I’m a man who delegates responsibilities to people with appropriate expertise. Katarina’s personal life doesn’t concernme as long as her professional performance remains acceptable.”
“Three days,” I repeat while processing everything he’s told me. “Three days to prepare for the social event of the criminal calendar.”
“Three days to prepare for the beginning of our life together.” Andrei leans down until his lips hover just above mine. “I suggest you use that time to consider how you want to approach your new role.”
“As your enforcer and occasional bedwarmer.”
“As my partner in building something larger than either of our organizations.” His breath mingles with mine. “You could help me create an empire that makes your father’s achievements look like amateur hour, or you could spend our marriage plotting revenge that will never come.”
When he kisses me, it’s soft and persuasive rather than demanding, and I find myself responding despite rational thought screaming at me to resist.
“I’ll consider your offer.” I step back toward the door, my lips tingling from his kiss. “Though I reserve the right to change my mind if the terms prove unsatisfactory.”
“Of course. Though I should mention that marriage contracts are notoriously difficult to renegotiate.” Andrei’s smile carries heat that makes my stomach flutter. “I suggest you read the fine print carefully, Piccola.”
As I leave his study, one thought echoes through my mind with devastating clarity. In three days, I’ll either find a way to escapethis nightmare or accept that Maya Mastroni died the night Andrei Volkov decided she belonged to him.
Chapter 16
Andrei
Finding Maya on the penthouse balcony at midnight, silhouetted against Manhattan’s skyline like a warrior princess contemplating her final battle, reminds me that tomorrow, I either gain a wife or bury the woman who’s become my obsession.
“Second thoughts?” I ask while sliding the glass door closed behind me and joining her at the stone railing.
“Third and fourth thoughts.” Maya doesn’t turn to acknowledge my presence, though she squeezes the balcony railing. “I’ve been standing here trying to remember what it felt like to be Maya Mastroni instead of your captive bride-to-be.”
I swallow hard and move to stand beside her. “And what conclusion have you reached?”
“That she’s disappearing piece by piece, and I’m not sure who’s taking her place.” Maya finally looks at me, and the moonlightreveals something fragile in her eyes that makes something behind my sternum pull tight. “Tomorrow, I become Mrs. Andrei Volkov, and after that, Maya Mastroni exists only in memory.”
“Perhaps that’s not entirely unfortunate. Maya Mastroni was trapped by family obligations and territorial boundaries.” I lean against the railing and eye her profile. “Mrs. Andrei Volkov could have the freedom to become something unprecedented.”
“Or she could become nothing more than a beautiful accessory to legitimize your empire.” Maya turns toward me. “Which version are you hoping for, Andrei?”
The question deserves an honest answer, though honesty is not my strongest virtue when it comes to admitting feelings that could be used against me. “I’m hoping for a partner who challenges me, surprises me, and occasionally tries to kill me just to keep things interesting.”
Maya covers her mouth as an involuntary giggle slips out. “Well, the murder attempts are practically guaranteed.”
“I’m counting on it.” I reach out and trace the line of her jaw with one finger. “You wouldn’t be nearly as fascinating if you were compliant and grateful.”
She leans into my touch despite herself. “Is that what I am to you?”
“Among other things.” I brush my thumb across her lower lip. “You’re also infuriating, dangerous, beautiful, and unpredictable. Most people bore me within minutes, but you’ve held my attention for weeks.”
“Your attention and your captivity.”
“The captivity was necessary for practical reasons. The attention was entirely unexpected.” I step closer until we’re sharing the same breath. “Tomorrow’s ceremony legitimizes our political alliance, but tonight is about something else.”
She peers up at me through long lashes and asks, “What’s tonight about?”
“Tonight is about the woman who comforted me when I revealed weakness, who gathered intelligence while maintaining plausible deniability, and who kissed me like she meant it despite every reason to hate me.” I frame her face with both hands. “Tonight is about Maya, not the bride or the political symbol or the Mastroni princess. Just Maya.”
She searches my face for deception or manipulation, and I let her look because I’m telling the truth. Tomorrow brings obligations and ceremonies and the complicated reality of our new partnership. Tonight belongs to whatever this thing between us has become.
