"Which you can do from here." His smile is sharp. "We have excellent internet. You'll want for nothing."
"Except freedom," I mutter.
"Freedom is overrated." He reaches for my hand, and I let him take it because fighting will only make this worse. "You'll see. Once you're here, you'll realize how much easier everything is."
"Easier." The word tastes like poison.
His thumb strokes my hand. "I'll handle all of it. You just need to focus on being my wife."
Being his wife. Being his property. Being his prisoner.
"This is happening very fast," I try. "Perhaps after the wedding—"
"Tomorrow," he repeats. "I'll send a car at noon. Pack what you need for comfort. Everything else will be provided."
I want to argue. Want to fight. Want to refuse and storm out.
But I can see it in his eyes: this isn't optional. If I refuse, he'll have me brought here by force. And that would be worse.
At least this way, I walk in under my own power.
"Fine." The word costs me. "Tomorrow."
"Excellent." He lifts my hand to his lips. "You'll be much happier here. You'll see."
I won't be happier. I'll be fucking trapped.
Chapter Eighteen
Maksim
I'm heading back to my room after another sleepless night when I literally walk into her.
Kira stumbles back, and I catch her arm on reflex. We both freeze.
She's wearing pajamas with a robe hastily thrown over them. Her hair is loose, no makeup, and she looks younger like this. Like the girl I fell in love with.
I drop her arm like it burned me.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, glancing down the hallway to make sure we're alone.
"Being held prisoner, obviously." Her voice drips sarcasm. "Did you already forget?”
"Why aren't you in the guest quarters? They're on the other side of the estate."
“Newsflash asshole, I don’t really have much of a say about where I’m put,” she snaps.
This ismywing. Where I'm staying. My room that has always been my room. Roman’s master bedroom, my father’s old room, is down another hallway in this wing.
Where all the guest rooms definitely are not.
He specifically said she’d be in the guest quarters.
"This doesn't make sense," I say, more to myself than her. "This is—"
"A message?" Kira finishes. "A power play? I don't know, Maksim. You tell me. You're the one allied with him."
There's an edge to her voice that makes me look closer. She's scared. Trying to hide it, but it's there in the tension of her shoulders, the way her fingers grip her robe. She’s holding on to that attitude with a white-knuckle grip. It’s her shield. I recognize the tactic. I did the same during my captivity. Attack first. Put your captors on the defensive.
