Page 24 of Prince of Control
Baron’s expression is inscrutable. His brown eyes are steady beneath his unruly blond hair.
What if I say no? I got on the plane because my dad put me on it, but he’s not here now to make sure I go through with it.
But the memory of his pinched expression returns to me. He was overprotective growing up, but I never saw that level of concern before. If I said no, would I be putting his life in danger? Or my mom’s?
Baron seems unperturbed, but the tension from Lili is palpable, like she’s holding her breath for Baron.
I clear my throat. “I do.” My voice sounds rusty.
“By the authority vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may exchange rings.”
Baron pulls a pair of rings from his pocket and slides a thin gold band on my fourth finger, then puts a thicker one on his.
“Okay.” Baron says the word with finality, his arm lightly draped behind my back. Like, box checked. Wife acquired.
“You may kiss your wife.”
His wife. I’m now somebody’s wife. This is insane.
Baron looks down at me, and I tense. Do I have to let him, since we’re in front of a judge, and he wouldn’t want the judge to know this marriage is against my will?
As if sensing I will refuse to be kissed, Baron sweeps me up into his arms in a honeymoon carry. His friends laugh and cheer.
The conqueror has conquered. I’m clearly a spoil of war. His to carry off and…
I glance at his handsome face, which is far too close for comfort.
He starts to walk out of the courtroom.
“Hold up,” the bailiff calls. “You have to sign the certificate.”
Baron spins me around–an extra time, fast, which makes my arms fly around his neck and a reluctant laugh spill from my throat–and carries me back.
We both sign the certificate. Leo and Lili add their signatures, and it’s done.
I’m married to Benjamin Baranov.
“Pozdravleniya,” Lili says.
“Pozdravleniya.” Zoe, Anya, and Leo chorus.
“I’m guessing that’s congratulations,” Phoenix says. “So, what they said.”
“Gratulerer,” Anders adds in Norwegian.
I catch Baron looking at me, and my breath leaves my chest. He brushes the hair back from my face with the backs of his fingers then cradles my cheek. “May I kiss you?” he murmurs in Russian.
I want to say no out of principle. But my body says yes. My battered, lonely heart says yes. I crave human connection, even if it’s with the man who caused all this strife to begin with. I tip my face up to show my silent consent, and he lowers his mouth to mine.
His lips brush lightly across mine, barely touching.
Mine fall open.
He kisses me harder, his hand shifting from my face to cup behind my head.
I don’t want to like it. I don’t want to surrender to him or this moment, but it feels too good. He’s an expert kisser, confident yet nuanced. My body heats under his touch, nipples tightening, every cell electrifying. The courtroom spins. I’m free-falling into Baron. Into something foreign. I can’t stop this new chapter of my life from unfolding, but I have to admit, it’s not that terrible.
At least, not yet.
