I work through my tangles in the mirror and catch myself smiling over and over, like a stupid teenager after prom.
Ugh. This is ridiculous. I’m not nine. I’m not doodling his name in a notebook. I’m a grown woman in a marriage that exists because of a deal, one that benefits us both.
That’s it. That’sall.
Still, my mind keeps circling back. Even as I get dressed forthe day, I can’t help obsessing over when I’ll see him again, and how fast I can get him alone when I do.
Which is exactly why I need to get a grip.
I stir my coffee in the dining hall, pretending I’m not picturing Petyr’s hands on my hips, his mouth at my throat. I take a sip, burn my tongue, curse under my breath, and glare at the cup like it’s personally responsible for making me remember how warm his skin was.
Next to me, Anya is dusting off the mantle with a judgmental scowl.
This was so not part of the plan. And I don’t just mean being stink-eyed by an elderly Russian housekeeper.Marry him, survive him, get out—that was the plan. Notclimb him, keep thinking about climbing him, get wet at the breakfast table wondering about when you’ll get to climb him again.
And then there was that look he gave me when he was inside me. That moment when his control snapped and I felt him fill me up for the first time. I could swear he wasn’t looking at me like I was just a means to an end then. He was looking at me like…
Like I mattered.
The thought sticks uncomfortably at the back of my mind. I place my cup in the sink and do my best to rinse off my brain with it.
Anya clears her throat behind my back.
Right. Cleaning not allowed.
I get out of the house and tell myself that today I’m going to focus on my studies. On my future. On anything except Petyr.
I last about three minutes.
The man driving me to class today is apparently named Luka. I know that because it’s the only thing I manage to get out of him before he resolutely fixes his eyes on the road and locks down his voice box. He’s as warm as a brick wall, which doesn’t exactly help keep my mind off things. I wasn’t hoping to have a heart-to-heart, but maybe we could have had a nice chat about the weather.
When we get to campus, he gets out and follows me, staying a few steps behind. The weight of his presence makes the back of my neck prickle. I force myself to ignore it and power through. This, too, is part of my deal with Petyr. Though it’s a far less pleasant part than?—
No! Bad Sima. Stop thinking about tree climbing.
When he starts following me into the classroom, I whirl around. “Stay.”
Luka shrinks back and ducks his head. Do I feel bad about speaking to him like a dog? Yes, a little. But there’s only so much hovering I can take before I start feeling like I’m in some kind of witness protection program.
And yet, even though I’m sitting at my desk behind a closed door now, I still can’t shake it. That itch between my shoulder blades, the crawling awareness of someone’s eyes on me…
Does Luka have X-ray vision?
I shake my head and try to focus on reviewing my notes of the previous lesson. But, as the room fills up, the feeling persists. I keep glancing behind my back, but no one’s there—or rather, no one who isn’t busy shooting the shit withtheir classmates. Mostly, it’s college freshmen with puffy eyes and the smell of weed clinging to their clothes.
So why do I feel like I’m in danger?
“Oh-em-gee, hiii!” Brittany greets me with her million-watt smile, silencing my paranoia. “I thought you’d gotten sick. You didn’t show to the mixer yesterday, and?—”
Her gaze stops on my ring.
Her jaw drops.
Oh, shit.
“YOUGOTMARRIED?!”
Her scream pierces the sound barrier.
