“All right. I’m on the verge of hysteria in this alternate universe. What exactly are you trying to tell me?”
“My dear Lucy.” Again in a chilling tone without inflection. “Since I can’t kill you, please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
I burst out laughing. Hysterically. I didn’t even stop to think whether I’d insulted him or he'd insulted me.
Oh my God. He was more psychotic than I had first perceived.
My rib cage heaved and started to hurt from the uncontrolled laughter. My head throbbed. My eyes filled with tears. Kirill’s face blurred. I was trapped in a dark comedy hell with the person who wanted me dead. It must have eaten at him that the covenant had forbidden him to physically harm me. Genius, actually, to have Viktor do his dirty work, but I wouldn’t put it past Kirill that he would find other ways to take his vengeance.
When I finally harnessed my hysteria, I stared at him. He was still stoically unaffected. Bored even. Did this man possess any shred of emotion? A nagging inside me wanted to test that limit. Make his life a living hell. Why not as his wife?
I squashed that thought. “Good one. I almost believed you.”
“I’m serious.”
“Convince me.”
“I called Margo.”
My eyes widened. “You didn’t.” If he called the matchmaker, he was dead serious.
When Kirill put a contract on my head, Margo stepped in before a mafia war could break out between the Russian and Italian mafias. She brokered a truce. But to finally get theevidence for the feds to leave the Russian and Italian mafias alone, I had to sign a covenant with Margo that would allow her to send marriage contracts my way.
It also prevented bratva retaliation.
So far, in the last six months, I’d turned down eight proposals. Margo was getting impatient, and she was the last person I wanted to see tonight.
Or rather, morning.God, I’m exhausted.
A knock sounded on the door, and a man stepped in. “Pakhan.”
Kirill stood and walked over.
As the newcomer whispered in his ear, Kirill’s expressionless eyes slowly and uncomfortably focused on me.
It was damn unnerving. How could I even stand at an altar exchanging vows with him?
His eyes alone could freeze me into a block of ice before I said, “I do.”
After their conversation, Kirill returned to me, but he did not sit again. “I’m not the one to convince you about this marriage. It will make sense, and you can divorce me within a year, maybe two. We’ll have prenups drawn up?—”
“Hold on. Hold the fuck on,” I growled, pushing up from the couch, making sure I didn’t wobble. I was lightheaded, but Kirill was pissing me off so much with his steamrolling, all the blood stubbornly refused to drain to my feet. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”
He gripped my arm and pulled me against him. He lowered his head close to mine as a clear sign of intimidation. “From the moment I captured you in the woods, you’ve been devoid of choice. Listen. Peter wants to talk to me. I told my soldier to tell him I’m with my fiancée.”
“That’s your problem for lying!”
“No, it’s our problem because you killed his younger brother.” He enunciated the last five words, stressing that Viktor wasn’t only an important member of the Moscow mob, but Peter’s sibling. “We’re not going in circles about this.”
He yanked me out of what looked like his study and didn’t pause dragging me when I yelped at the cuts on the soles of my feet.
“Ow. Ow. Ow.”
We paused at the bottom of a sweeping staircase, his eyes lowering to my bare feet. “My housekeeper will tend to your injuries.”
“I’m fine. Hydrogen peroxide will be enough.”
“Good, I don’t need to carry you.”
