He swallows before he manages to tear his gaze away.
Maybe he wasn’t expecting to like what I hid, and that truth must’ve pissed him off. Same for me. I don’t want quiet interest. I want to be madly desired by the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with.
And based on his half-lidded eyes, his interest has already fizzled.
He lifts his wineglass in a mock toast.
“You broke the first rule. You didn’t obey me,” he says evenly. “Always dress appropriately. Now sit.”
I don’t move.
“I saidsit,” he repeats, voice hardening, “before something worse happens.”
I nearly collapse into the chair. The cold stone beneath my bare feet makes my toes ache, and tears pool in my eyes. I sniffle them back.
“Rule two,” he continues, as if my dignity wasn’t just ripped off along with my clothing, “is loyalty. I am a traditional man.”
His voice wraps around that word,traditional.
As if it is sacred.
It shouldn’t make something in me tighten. Yet some curious part of me wants to understand why a man like him needs awoman to know that... or why he wants to carve rules into my skin so I don’t forget.
However, I shove the thought away immediately. That’s a fairytale: a man wantingusto ourselves.
Loyalty, what a joke.
Mafia men are notoriously unfaithful. Besides, I am not here to psychoanalyze the monster I’m supposed to marry. I need to find a way out of this mess. Until then, I must tread softer now that it’s clear he is unreasonable.
I swallow and reply with a warm smile.
“I’m loyal. And very traditional.”
He grunts something in Russian. I don’t understand it, but his tone is unnerving and I look at the guards, hoping he didn’t issue another command.
They remain still.
Just then, the chained man coughs again. A wet, painful sound.
My head jerks toward him—
I gawk. Tremble. I don’t think I’d ever get used to that sight.
A violent thud slams through the room. Gustav has stabbed his knife into the table’s ancient wood.
“Don’t look at him.”
I jump. “I, I wasn’t—”
His eyes narrow. “Would you like him to fuck you, devushka?”
My breath stops.
“N-no!” I yip, horrified.
The air crackles with tension. He leans back, lips curling.
“I’ll watch,” he says, “as my dinner entertainment.”
