“You think forcing me into this marriage is some kind of win?” She shakes her head with a laugh sharp enough to cut. “You’re a pathetic man who has to hurt someone else to prove a point. Hate me all you want, Aleksei, but you’re still a criminal. And I’m still a prosecutor.” She tilts her chin up, eyes blazing so hot it knocks the breath from my lungs. “I did my job. And I’d do it again.”
The fire in her makes my cock harden like stone. I grab her throat, my lips hovering over hers as my fingers squeeze just enough so she learns to mind her manners.
“If you wanted foreplay, detka…” My mouth traces hers. “All you had to do was ask.”
My hand drifts down, trailing up the inside of her thigh. She trembles and her lips part, a gasp caught between fury and something far more dangerous.
“Look at you…” My thumb brushes her bottom lip. “Look how easily you bend for me. You are mine now, Fiona. In every sense of the word.”
Her eyes flash, filled with the kind of fury that would make most men back away.
Not me, though. It only makes this sweeter.
“I will never be yours, Aleksei Marinov. No matter how hard you try. No matter what you wish or dream, it will never happen.”
My smirk hooks at one corner of my mouth. “We’ll see about that.”
She tears herself out of my grip, cheeks flaming as she backs away. I let her go. For now.
“One last thing.” I straighten my jacket, already turning to leave. “You’ll be moving in with me. Your things will be collected the day before the wedding. Be packed by then, or I will take the liberty of doing it for you.”
“You’re pure poison, Aleksei!”
I glance back over my shoulder, the edge of a smile tugging at my lips. “I have a feeling you enjoy a little poison running through your veins.”
Her chest heaves. “You’re fucking crazy.”
I step toward the door, watching her from the corner of my eye. “Welcome to hell, my love.”
I blow her a kiss, and she flips me off.
God, I fucking love her fire.
FIONA
There’s a moment, as I’m standing in my kitchen with the kettle whining behind me, when I genuinely wonder if this is some kind of psychological break. If I’ve officially snapped completely and gone full padded room.
Because there’s no way this is real. No way that just two hours ago, a man I despise told me we’re getting married. That my wedding dress is arriving soon.
I didn’t even ask what kind of dress. I was too busy trying not to scream.
The kettle clicks off with a sharp pop, and I pour water over a tea bag I don’t remember choosing. I clutch the mug tightly, breathing in steam and chamomile like that’s going to fix any of this.
I’m marrying Aleksei Marinov.
I haven’t even told Emilia. What do I say?
But it’s different for her. Even after everything, she chose to stay. And Konstantin never hated her the way Aleksei despises me. He’s going to make sure I suffer.
A knock hits the door before I can spiral any further. Setting the mug down on the counter, I move reluctantly, knowing it must be the dress. When I open the door, I don’t expect it to be two women who look like they’ve stepped out of aVogueshoot.
“Mrs. Marinova?” The taller one beams, knowing full well that’s not my damn name. Not yet, anyway.
Ugh. The thought makes me want to vomit.
“I’m Claire, and this is Kelly. Mr. Marinov said you knew to expect us.”
I catch the black Ralph Lauren garment bags and the red Cartier and Chanel bags.
