Page 61 of The Pakhan's Arranged Bride
“Would you like a drink, little fox?” I ask, noticing that her glass is empty.
“Yes, please. Another champagne,” she nods. I lean down at gently kiss her lips.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” I say, then leave her talking to the wife of a colleague as I look around for one of the waiters making their rounds with trays of champagne. It doesn’t take long to find one. I take two glasses off it and thank him, then turn back to Ulyana.
From across the room, I watch her, my eyes tracing the contours of her perfection. She is magnificent.
But in a flash, the smile disappears from my face and my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach.
Miron is walking towards her.
Miron.
Here at the event.
Somewhere neutral where I can’t even respond to his presence in the way I desperately want to. It also strikes me that while I might be smart enough to conduct myself in a manner that honors the treaty of neutral territory, he most likely isn’t.
That gives him a benefit here, the benefit of being the one to strike first while I wait tensely for that to happen.
Fuck. This is bad.
I set both glasses of champagne down and rush back to her, pushing past people rudely and not caring. I have one focus, one goal—to get to her side and keep her safe from that monster.
She spots him just as I reach her. Turning away from the woman she’s speaking to, her eyes lock with his.
Her face turns ash-white and she takes in a sharp breath.
“Miron.” She whispers his name in horror and fear.
But as he steps in front of her, demanding her full attention with a ghastly smile on his face, her fear turns to anger. Her eyes narrow and her jaw sets tightly as she glares at him.
“What are you doing here?” she growls.
“Ulyana, I wanted to say congratulations on your marriage. How wonderful for you,” he says, not meaning a fucking word of it. He’s easy to read, and the marriage is clearly not something he approves of. He steals a moment to glance in my direction, then his eyes return to her.
His gaze drifts over her and my stomach churns with anger.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Miron?” I snarl, keeping my voice low. “You’re risking a lot coming here and standing in front of me as though you didn’t make an attempt on my life last week. I should shoot you where you stand.”
He snickers, rolling his eyes at me, ignoring my threats and continuing to stare at Ulyana. “Don’t flatter yourself, playboy. I came here for other reason, more important than you.
“So, Ulyana, are you pleased that your brother sold you?”
“He didn’t sell me, Miron. I am here of my own free will,” she hisses. “I told you never to speak to me again.”
He snorts. “And you thought I’d stay away? How sweet. You know what I want. You know I won’t stop till I have it.”
She presses her lips together as her eyes flare with hatred.
It becomes very clear to me as Miron carries on taunting her, and she snaps back angry responses, that there is something more going on between them than meets the eye.
I know he is her stepbrother. Perhaps they never got along. But this seems more than just a family dispute.
My heart is hammering against my ribs as I fight for control not to punch this asshole in the face. If I make one move, it gives him free rein to defend himself with whatever force he deems necessary, and I will be the one blamed.
I can’t do it. Not here. Not now.
This is not the time or place, no matter how badly I want to rip that smile from his face.
