Page 4 of Bleed with Me

“Would Zyon really kill him?” A frown formed between his elegant eyebrows.

“I don’t want to risk it,” I whispered, pulling away and wiping my tears.

“Why don’t you tell the truth then?”

“What truth?” I breathed.

“That Sonny not only bullied you and called you nasty names, but beat you as well,” he answered, snatching my hand when I flinched in shock. I never told a soul about that accident. No one knew who attacked me that night.

“Nina, I may be pretty, but I’m not stupid.” Lucas rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “I knew there had to be more than a dream about true love behind your resentment of the marriage. You’ve been part of this family long enough to understand it can happen anytime.”

A shaky exhale left my lips as I tried to gather my thoughts into meaningful words. Yet the answer to Lucas’s question was plain and simple.

“Dad would think I made the story up to avoid the marriage,” I admitted eventually. “And with the information about what Zyon wants from the Carliles, I don’t have a choice. No other family has a diplomat in Russia.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Lucas grimaced, biting his lower lip. “So, you’ll marry Sonny? Despite all he’s done?” He cast me a doubtful look, his gaze following me when I sat up and hugged my knees.

“What else can I do?” I mumbled, resting my cheek against my knee.

My head hurt as if someone had hit me with a shovel, and my eyes stung. I either had to accept my poor fate or fight until my last breath. I knew I would go with the second option, but fuck, my mind was blank. I had no plan, no idea how to avoid this fucking disaster.

“This.” Lucas slipped a white envelope under my hand, prompting me to open it when I shot him a hesitant glance. Slowly, I did, and pulled out a beautiful invitation written in golden letters.

Dear Mr. Colapino,

Please join us for an exclusive After-Party following the Grand Opening of the Sovereign Medical Center. Enjoy an evening of good food, drinks, music, and great company as we toast to a new beginning in healthcare excellence.

I blinked at the signature at the bottom, my heart missing a beat. I spent the past week learning everything possible about the man who signed this, and my hand slightly trembled when I traced his name with my fingertips. I was becoming obsessed with a guy sixteen years older than me, who seemed to be the only person capable of saving me.

“Where did you get it?” I whispered, clutching the piece of expensive paper as if it were my lifeline.

“I stole it and put my name on it,” Lucas answered nonchalantly, earning a roll of eyes from me.

“Be serious,” I whined, holding the envelope close to my heart. “Whose invitation is it?”

“Ours.” He grinned. “Did you honestly think I’d let you stalk Dorian Zhumagulov alone? Haven’t you seen him?”

A soft laugh escaped me when he tossed himself on the bed with a dreamy expression.

“I love you.” I lay on his chest, unable to put into words the gratitude I felt.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, soothingly patting my back. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

And I believed him. I wasn’t a person who gave up easily. I had my moment of weakness, but it was long forgotten. On Friday, I would meet Dorian Zhumagulov, and he wouldn’t be able to escape me. If I had to ruin my life with marriage, I would at least ruin it my way.

-3-

Nina

Iwalked into the luxurious restaurant in Upper Manhattan with my arm hooked through Dad’s. What was supposed to be a dinner between him, Sonny, and Sonny’s father had somehow turned into a family affair to discuss the wedding.

My knees, hidden under the long, elegant, backless black dress, trembled as he led me confidently to the main table, where the Carliles were already waiting for us.

Sonny stood when he noticed us, in his custom-made, black suit, looking like a perfect gentleman. His father shot us a bored glance, setting the glass of whiskey on the table before following his son’s example. He greeted us with a polite smile, but his blue eyes stayed as empty as always. The guy has given me the creeps since I met him years ago. He had the same diabolical aura as Sonny, and I would rather walk around all of Manhattan than be left alone with him.

On the other hand, Sonny’s mother, Arianna, sported a welcoming, broad smile complemented by glassy eyes and red lipstick. I hoped at least one person in this family was normal. But when the waiter poured the last of her expensive bottle of wine into her glass before I plopped into the chair opposite her, I knew it wasn’t her first drink. And when I noticed the dark bruise beneath her elegant gold watch, a lump formed in my throat.

Her clothes were lavish, her blonde hair perfectly styled, and the mask on her face almost flawless. Yet it slipped for a second when her husband moved her wine glass out of reach.