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“Lucky me,” I mutter, the sarcasm in my tone dripping with insincerity.

“Aren’t you interested in what I want now?” He studies me curiously, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve.

I study my cracked nails, feigning boredom. “Not particularly.”

He shakes his head in bewilderment. “What is it about you?” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

I am actually curious about what he wants. But I’m really trying not to play into his game.

So I do what I do best.

I talk.

“It’s probably my personality. I think I have a certain charm—aje ne sais quoiif you will.

“But if I had to guess? It’s probably the trauma. Really adds to the allure, don’t you think?”

His lips twitch, like he’s amused despite himself. I take that as a win and keep going.

“Or maybe it’s the mystery. People love a good puzzle. Like those old-timey treasure maps where ‘X marks the spot’—except in my case, X just leads to a whole lot of bad decisions and emotional damage.”

I tilt my head, feigning deep thought. “But hey, I could be wrong. Maybe you’re just into the whole ‘woman who might stab me’ vibe—well, I’m more likely to off you with some kind of home lighting, but the point still stands. If that’s the case, I’d say you’ve gotexquisitetaste.”

“God, I could listen to you talk all day.” He hums to himself.

His words truly catch me off guard.

“But alas. We have places to be.” He flashes me another sinister smile. “Weddingsto have.”

There’s no way I heard him correctly.

Right?

“Weddings?” I ask, taking the bait.

“Our wedding, to be exact.”

I try to take a step back, but Aristov crowds me from behind.

“I think you might have the wrong girl actually. I’m not really marriage material. Do you know how many times a day I fart? Too many.”At what point do I stop talking?“You don’t want to deal with that. Plus! I’m really high maintenance. Like, scarily so. I’d need from now until—oh I don’t know—the end of time to get myself ready for the wedding.”

“Enough,” the man barks. He wants me to marry him and he hasn’t even told me his name.Not really what’s important right now, Tess.

“Aristov, get her ready to go.”

How did I end up in a helicopter flying over NewfuckingYork to my own wedding?

Oh, that’s right. It’s because after our delightful conversation, Aristov and the man I now know as Mikhail dragged me outside and threw me onto the waiting craft.

The sunlight was fucking blinding when we stepped out of what looked like a mansion, and I was roughly forced over to the helipad.

Somehow, I’m in America? That’s new information for me. I don’t think I’ve ever been outside of England before, yet they got me halfway across the world while I was unconscious after the car crash. My life is just one big roller coaster at this point.

Aristov has joined me, alongside the pilot whose face I can’t really make out behind his headgear.

We’ve been flying for ten minutes when Aristov’s gaze sharpens on the view outside. “We should be touching down soon.”

The pilot looks back briefly, catches my eye, then winks atme.