“It was more than that,” he says, seeing through my half-truth. “After my father was murdered and my mother almost died, she’d wake up the same way, having a panic attack from her nightmares.”
“Did she take a bath to calm herself down?”
“Yeah.” He glides his hand along the curves of my body, and for some reason, his touch helps to relax me further. “She said the warm water would soothe her.”
“Where is she?” I ask, wondering why I haven’t met her yet.
“I sent her on vacation while I figure things out. I didn’t want to risk your brothers going after her. I’m hoping once we’re married, she’ll move here and live in the in-law suite in the back.”
My body tenses, and Kane notices. Palming my cheek, he lifts my face so I’ll look at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Do you not want my mom to live in the back? I can get her a condo somewhere?—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I just figure she won’t like me since I’m an Antonov and all.”
“She doesn’t agree with my marrying you,” he admits with a shrug. “But she doesn’t have an issue with you. She knows you’re nothing more than a casualty in this war of life, just like she was.”
Kane runs his fingers gently through my tresses, and I lay my head back down on his chest.
For a little while, I pretend like I’m in bed with a man who genuinely loves me and wants to marry me. It’s not forced. He courted me for months, and when the time was right, he picked out the perfect ring and told me he wanted to spend his life with me, that he couldn’t imagine going another day without making me his wife.
When the sun starts to shine through the blinds, I pretend like this is how our life is supposed to be. Cuddled in bed because he needs to be close to me. Only, instead of me awkwardly climbing out of bed, he makes love to me and then carries me to the bathroom, wanting to start his day buried deep inside me.
But once I’m in the shower alone, the pretend morphs into reality.
I’m alone. And the man who’s going to marry me doesn’t love me—and never will.
17
Kane
She lied to me.
I can feel it deep in my bones.
That nightmare stemmed from a truth. The pained look in her eyes, the way her heart pounded behind her rib cage. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but I could feel it. Whatever she was dreaming about was real.
But she wouldn’t tell me.
Because she doesn’t trust me.
Which means I need to gain her trust.
And that starts with helping her pave her future.
Brielle loves Pilates and wants to open her own studio. The studio she goes to is for sale, yet for some crazy reason, they won’t sell it to her.
I had my assistant make an appointment with the management company under a false name, just in case I’m linked to Brielle, and I’m going to get to the bottom of this.
“Good afternoon,” I say to the woman sitting at the receptionist desk. The plaque readsDana Willis. “I have a meeting with Mr. Hyatt. My name is Michael Kors.” I smile charmingly while cursing my assistant to hell for thinking he’s funny, giving me a dumbassfake name.
“Mr. Kors,” Dana says, “Mr. Hyatt had a family emergency, but Mr. DeSantis will take the meeting with you in his place.”
Mr. DeSantis …
Well, this just got interesting.
“What’s his first name?” I ask.
