Petyr eyes me from the side. “Show me your phone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your phone.” He holds out his palm. “Now.”
I want to fight back, but I can tell he’s not joking. The set of his jaw is serious. Cold. Unlike any other time he’s teased me so far.
With a roll of my eyes, I hold it up just out of reach. If he wants to go through my phone, he’ll have to snatch it out and look like a major asshat. Not that I think he wouldn’t, but better safe than sorry.
“It’s just Jemma,” I say. “My assistant. You know, the member of our team whodidn’tget roped up into the wedding she was helping organize.”
He squints at the screen, like he can’t quite see. Maybe he’s near-sighted? Too cool for glasses, too chicken for contacts?
After a moment, he drops his palm and leans back into his seat. I try not to slump visibly with relief. “Guess you did leave her high and dry.”
“Whose fault was that, again?”
He doesn’t take the bait. “You’ll want to switch that off. In a few miles, you won’t be getting a signal anymore. Best save your battery.”
“Great,” I deadpan. “Just what every newlywed hostage wants to hear.”
A car ride into the woods, no reception, and a career murderer for company. Am I gonna have to watch out for an ax, too? Keep an ear out for dragging chains?
Petyr’s lips quirk. “Who said you were a hostage?”
“The dictionary, for one.” I shoot him a scathing look. “Considering you didn’t exactly give me a choice when you called me up on that altar.”
“You did have a choice. You could have said no.”
“Could I, now?”
“Yes.” He pins me with his molten gaze. Suddenly, this car is starting to feel too small, too hot. “Why didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t you marry yourownbride?”
He gives me an amused glance. Clearly, he isn’t used to being pressed for answers. “Like I said, she wasn’t available. You were.”
“Wow. Guess romance isn’t dead, after all.”
“Didn’t say it was.” He fixes his cufflinks. Diamond, judging from the thousand-watt shine. “I just don’t care for it.”
I stare at him. Of all the things he said, this is the first one that doesn’t make me want to punch him. Oddly, because—as his newly-appointed wife—it really kind of should.
And yet, I’m not insulted. Honestly, I get it. I’m not exactly Miss Happily Ever After myself. If it wasn’t for work, I never would have set foot in a chapel again.
“Your turn,” he says.
“Huh?”
“You didn’t turn me down.” His golden gaze slides over me. “Why?”
Now,that’srich. “Didn’t know ‘no’ was an option when thepakhanasks.”
His eyes narrow to fissures. “Funny. I don’t remember telling you I waspakhanof anything.”
Shit.
I feel the blood drain from my face. Cold grips me. I’m lightheaded, like I might faint at any second.
