Much like a female praying mantis would do to its mate after coupling.
I glanced surreptitiously at Kirill, who was busy scrolling through his phone. I had no intention of having sex with him. That idea had been flushed down the sewers since I discovered him with Anya. It was the ultimate insult, and Kirill didn’t seem the least bit apologetic.
Whatever. I was holding on to my outrage and kept the stabbing pain in my chest locked tight. Except it was like a bleeding wound being held together by ragged sutures, and a primal scream was threatening to break free.
I maintained the demeanor of the radiant bride as we ate cake for the benefit of my relatives. My brother, Dom, especially, had a strong sense of taking care of family. I was so glad he had Sloane now, and she was his priority. But as we prepared to leave in the limousine after the reception, I couldn’t dispel the tortured expression in my brother’s eyes. That he’d let me down. That he was sending me off to an execution, and he was helpless to stop it.
I didn’t see Dad or Uncle Cesar. I had a feeling my uncle was keeping my father from losing his damn mind.
The women at least counterbalanced their men’s grim expressions, especially Mamma and Irina.
Instead of parking in front of the house, the limo made it all the way around and rolled into a vast garage that could hold six huge SUVs easily. A spot was already vacated right by the door leading indoors.
Sato helped me out. Water was clinging to his hair, and his suit appeared drenched. There was a solemn expression on his face, almost sympathy, but I tipped my chin and glanced over the roof of the limo at Kirill. “Same room?”
Kirill looked at Sato. “Are her things in there?”
“Yes.”
I gave a brief nod and, with my head still held high, I walked into the house. I didn’t move too quickly. I didn’t know my way around, and getting lost and walking in circles in my wedding gown would negate the aura that I was in control.
I expected the house staff to appear, but none came. It was Kirill who appeared by my side.
“I guess we’re not having a wedding night?” he asked.
He couldn’t be serious!
I huffed and glared at him. The nerve.
His face didn’t show reaction except to motion me to turn right from the kitchen, and I recognized the stairs that led to the bedroom.
“I can find my way from here.”
“I have something to say to you.”
“Can you say it here and get it over with?”
In a flash, he tossed me over his shoulder.
“How dare you?” I shouted and pounded on his back. “I’m not sleeping with you!”
He was ascending the steps. Hysteria started bubbling up my throat, but since I was upside down, it burned in my chest and replaced the bottled-up pain with survival.
Pounding on his back was like pounding on a wall, and he had my legs barred tight. And I resisted wiggling too much for fear of toppling down the stairs.
I let my arms hang loosely, frustrated and saving my energy to fight him in case he forced himself on me.
We entered the bedroom, and I was immediately tossed onto the bed. I rolled off and scrambled to the French doors leading to a balcony. And then what?
“Stay away from me!”
“I’m not going to touch you!” Kirill growled. “No need for theatrics.”
“And you expect me to believe you, you lying bastard!”
“I prefer my women willing, and there’s plenty around who are willing. Trust me.”
“Like Anya?”
