The incessant ringing in my ears suddenly cuts off when Grey’s yelling cuts through the door. “Amelia! Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
Before I can muster up the strength to respond, I recognize the sound of flowing water that stops abruptly. The next second, Misha is crouching in front of me, his warm, still-damp hands cupping my cheeks, shocking me out of the haze. His dark eyes search my face, then scan my body, concern etched in every line of his features.
“Bug, you’re all right?” I manage a weak nod, my throat feeling too tight to speak. Misha calls out louder, “She’s okay, at least physically.”
Then, despite the suit he’s wearing, he settles down next to me on the cold tile floor and pulls me across his lap. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder, and breathe in deeply, the familiar scent of rain enveloping me.
“What happened?” he asks softly, his breath tickling my ear as he starts to stroke my back.
When I don’t answer, Grey’s voice filters through the door. “The dickhead got handsy.”
Misha tenses beneath me, and he takes a deep breath.
I whisper into his ear, trying to soothe him, “He didn’t hurt me. I promise.” Then, I realize he’sinsidethe bathroom with me.
What the?
“What are you doing in here?”
“I was using the loo, as you would say.” Misha chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest.
I pull back, giving him wide eyes. “The door was open.”
Misha shrugs nonchalantly. “Forgot to lock it. You know me, always living on the edge.” I can’t help but laugh at his casual admission, the tension in my body easing, and he gives me a relieved grin.
But then Misha’s expression turns serious again as he asks, “What happened? Why did he put his hands on you? I swear, if he?—”
Grey’s voice comes through the door again, cutting off Misha’s threat. “Because he has a death wish. You should have seen Oliver almost hulking out.”
“Grey, shut it,” Oliver’s hiss is almost too muffled to hear.
Misha’s touch is gentle as he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. The warmth of his fingers lingers on my skin as he asks, “What happened, Bug?” I can’t bear to look at him, so I cover my eyes with my hands like a kid. “What is it with him? Is he into you?” Misha’s voice is laced with concern and a hint of anger. There’s a protective edge in his tone, and it makes my heart ache.
I shake my head, still hiding behind my hands. “No, he’s not.”
“Then what is his fucking problem?”
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I’m about to say. Finally, I lower my hands to meet his gaze, my eyes searching his for understanding. “His fucking problem is that he wants me to marry him.”
There, I said it.
“The fuck?” Grey’s voice comes through the door, sharp with disbelief. I can almost picture his scowl.
“It’s… complicated,” I start with a sigh, knowing I need to explain.
“We have an IQ of 135, try us,” Misha probes.
“145,” Oliver mumbles behind the door, and a smile tugs at my lips.
They will understand.
Hopefully.
“My mother wants me to marry Daniel. She thinks it’s a good match socially. But it’s not just about me. It’s about August too.”
“Yeah. Your mother is a gem. But what does August have to do with this?” Grey asks, and I can hear his confusion, but I don’t blame him.
“Father wants him to take over the law firm,” I explain.
