“I didn’t say it was odd,” he said, sitting in his chair again and staring at his breakfast. He crossed his leg away from me and muttered something that ended with, “—interesting.” He looked up. “Do you still have a boyfriend?”
“He’s not in the picture. As a matter of fact, he’sveryoutof the picture.”
“I should have asked that earlier.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m single. Or I was, until I married you.”
Knocking pounded at the door again. A muffled voice yelled, “Room service! Again!”
“What, did those wankers forget something?” Nico tugged his towel over his knee and shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and showing me some strong thigh that I looked away from. “Would you mind opening the door for them? I don’t seem to be in a state to do so.”
For as energetic as Nico had seemed earlier, he seemed subdued.
“Um, sure? You okay? Is it the hangover, or are you dizzy or something?”
More knocking.
“I’m fine.” His hands were clenched into red-knuckled fists, and his mouth was set in a grim line. “Please, if you would,the door.”
I padded over to the door and let another room service guy wheel yet another cart in.
This one had a small silver machine on it with coffee cups, pods, and a pitcher of cream. The waiter announced, “Mr. Romanov, we again apologize for our lack of understanding. Here is the espresso machine and heavy cream that you generally prefer, plus the bowl of your preferred apples. If there is anything,absolutely anything,that we can do to make your stay in this unusual circumstance more comfortable, please call housekeeping and we’ll bring itimmediately.”
“Get a notary public up here,” Nicolai snapped without even turning to look at him.
“Yes, sir!” The guybowedas he backed out of the room.
He bowed again and again, bobbing, like a flapping hinge.
The hotel staff had been attentive bordering on obsequiousness ever since Nico had identified himself on the phone.
I slammed the door and marched back over to Nicolai.“What are you not telling me?”
CHAPTER 23
some more negotiations
LEXI BYRNE
“Yes, about that contract.”Nico practically growled as he glared at his breakfast. “Let’s return to thecontract.”
My heart was pounding in my throat. The shaking wasn’t fear like hyenas were chasing me, but an eeriness filled the room that the world wasn’t working right.
Waiters didn’tbow.
Priests didn’t get up in the middle of the night to perform a baptism-chrismation-wedding in a half-hour blitz.
Men didn’t fall to their knees and insta-propose to girls like me.
Gorgeous, handsome, giant-tall men didn’t gaze down at me during our sudden wedding and say heartbreakingly beautiful things that made me believe they loved me after just meeting me.
It was all so unserious.
“After the London season, we’ll have a few suppers in public for social media posts,” Nico continued. “The last one will beat Christmas. After that, we’ll divorce in the late spring with a doctor confirming you are stillvirgo intacta,and you’ll desert me. Desertion is also grounds for an annulment. So, that’stworeasons. That’s good.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I pointed at the door. “Thatwas weird. That guybowedat you.”
“I didn’t see.” He adjusted his towel and his top leg where they were crossed. “After the official desertion, you’ll be free to live your life as you wish, wherever you wish, with the exception of appearing in court for the divorce and answering any questions the annulment tribunal will have.”
