I know a few things. He’s probably in his thirties, maybe close to his forties. He’s in remarkably good physical condition. He knows Aunt Yelena and is involved in my father’s business, but he’s not Russian, despite his links to the Bratva. He thinks relationships are inherently transactional.
Which means he’s buying me.
I smooth myself and twist, trying to get at the zipper. I should’ve done this first before getting it situated. As I try to tug it up, the door opens. I let out a yelp and cover my chest with one arm, holding the dress in place, as Gabe enters the room.
He stops, pinned to the spot at the sight of me. Sheer embarrassment threatens to ruin me. I’ve never seen a man look at me with such gravity before, like he’s measuring every inch of my body. And the sick part is, the part that makes my cheeks turn bright red, is he clearly likes it.
“Do you need some help?” He shuts the door behind him.
“No, I can handle getting dressed on my own, thanks.”
“If that were true, you’d be ready by now.”
Asshole has a point.
I tip my chin toward the zipper and reluctantly gesture at it. “Do you mind?”
He walks over, still in that same suit, smelling like ash but something else now too. It’s spicy and woodsy. “Anything for my wife.”
I shiver at the way he says it. He stops behind me and I find his reflection in the mirror, heart racing. “Did you put on cologne for me?”
He seems surprised. His fingers linger on the zipper for a moment. “Would it be so bad if I did?”
“No, I like it. And it’s sweet. The way you talked in the diner made it sound like you couldn’t care less about… you know…”
“About engaging in a normal husband-wife relationship with you?”
“I guess.”
He tugs the zipper up. “Can I admit something to you?”
“At this point, I’m desperate to hear anything you have to say.”
“When I first heard about you, my inclination was not toward marriage.” The zipper reaches the top. His left hand rests on my hip while the right brushes my hair back over my oppositeshoulder, baring my neck to him. “I thought I could get what I wanted by… other means.”
I shiver at the feeling of his breath on my skin. “That’s ominous.”
“But then I spoke about you with Yelena and saw your photograph. And I decided that sometimes, business deals are better… if they’re personal.” His hand moves around my body and he cups my chin, holding my face still. I watch him, breath hitching as my heart races. My instincts are to play dead, to be meek and soft. He could break me. Rip my throat out.
My experience with men is minimal. Boyfriends never stuck around. My handlers were cordial but distant. Aunt Yelena always said the best man was one who kept to himself, and I took that to heart after a while.
Which is how I ended up a virgin at twenty-three.
I’m not proud. It's embarrassing. I’ve had chances, but it never felt right, and anyway the guys always ended up ghosting me before I could feel comfortable enough.
This man though, there’s an instant desire in me. I can’t pretend like it isn’t there. He’s too good looking, too intense. Physically, he’s everything I’ve always wanted. Tall and well-built without being overly muscular. Good hair, strong jaw, full lips. Even the way he walks, the way he talks, his confidence. It’s like a drug drawing me in.
“Are you saying…” I press back against him. What am I doing right now? Why am I playing into this? I know none of this is real. Whatever Gabe’s doing, he’s got an ulterior motive, always. But I like it, God help me. “Are you saying, you decided I might make an acceptable wife?”
“I’m saying I find you attractive.” He dips down… and kisses my neck.
My mouth hangs open, and I let out a soft whimper. It’s such a pathetic noise. I’ve never made anything remotely like it before… but I’ve also never felt this in my life. A surge of desire floods me. My nipples stiffen as excitement slams into my chest. I squirm as he kisses again, gently, his lips warm and soft, his stubble tickling, as he moves up to my chin.
“What… are you doing?” I turn to face him. He pauses and holds my gaze.
“We’re going to be together, and I was wondering… I was thinking… how compatible we might be.”
There’s a real vulnerability in the look he gives me, like he’s genuinely worried that we might not make a good couple.
