Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
FIONA
I stretch slowly, limbs tangled in expensive sheets, the remnants of sleep still clinging to my skin. My arm drifts across the mattress in search of warmth, only to meet cool linen and empty space.
He’s gone.
Something sharp and unnamable flickers through me. Not disappointment, because that would imply I expected him to stay. I didn’t. I don’t. The less I see of Aleksei Marinov, the better. Space is safer. Distance keeps this...whatever this is...in the box it belongs in.
A dull ache throbs between my thighs as I push myself to a seated position, ignoring all thoughts of him. I shouldn’t think about the way he touched me, the way his hands held me like I was something breakable while his mouth whispered things that made my heart trip over itself.
Look how good we fit.
I want you slow this time.
Lies dressed up as something sweeter. Temporary fantasies woven between sheets that were never meant to hold meaning.
My fingers find the edge of the comforter, gripping it tight for a moment before I throw it off.
The air is cool against my bare legs, but not enough to clear the thoughts I don’t want to acknowledge, thoughts that cling even when I tell myself it was just sex.
That’s all it’s ever been. No matter how gentle he was. No matter how good it felt. No matter how much of me he seemed to see.
My focus lands on the rings. The diamond glints in the morning light, paired with the band he slid onto my finger…and the problem is, I don’t hate how they look.
Shaking those thoughts loose, I climb out of bed, ignoring the slight sting in my muscles as I move. I’m beyond exhausted, but I have work and there’s too much to do for me to be late.
Slipping the rings off, I place them in the nightstand drawer. There’s no chance in hell I’m wearing them to work. When I told him no one can find out about us, I was dead serious.
Dressing quickly, I slip into a cream blouse and black slacks, step into low heels, and dab concealer beneath my eyes, praying it hides the kind of exhaustion that sleep never touches.
Halfway down the hall, the scent of coffee and something savory drifts to meet me. My stomach grumbles before I can stop it. I really hope he has green tea.
At the base of the staircase, a man in all black waits. Broad shoulders, a holstered gun at his side, face carved from stone.
“Good morning, Mrs. Marinova.” He tips his head to the left. “I will show you to the kitchen.”
Mrs. Marinova.
God.
I give a tight nod and follow him past a series of ornate doors until we reach a gleaming white kitchen that feels too alive for a man like Aleksei. Sunlight pours through oversized windows. The counters shine. Everything smells like comfort.
At the stove, a woman moves with purpose, her back to us, stirring something in a heavy-bottomed pot.
Her gray hair is twisted into a bun, her floral apron snug across a no-nonsense frame.
She radiates the kind of presence that says she’ll feed you with one hand and smack you with the other if you mouth off.
She turns, expression warm.
“Hello. I am Galya,” she says in a thick Russian accent. “Come sit, Mrs. Marinova. I am sure you are very hungry after wedding night.”
My ears grow hot instantly as I freeze halfway to the table. Whether she means the ceremony or what happened after, I don’t want to know.
Before I can die of mortification, Galya turns back to the stove, plating dish after dish across the counter. Eggs, pancakes, fruit, and something golden and fried that smells buttery and amazing.
She sets a plate down in front of me, followed by a mug of…green tea? How the hell did she know?
He must’ve told her, but how did he know? I’ve never even drunk it in front of him.
“This is blini.” She points to the round, thin pancakes. “And this is draniki.” She gestures toward a circular-looking fried thing. “Is like potato pancake. You eat.”
“Thank you. It all looks delicious.” I’m not used to eating a big breakfast, but I can make an exception.
“I am glad.” She wipes her hands on the apron. “I am happy too because Mr. Aleksei needed woman’s touch in this house.”
My laugh almost slips free. I want to tell her this isn’t that kind of arrangement. That this marriage is just a contract, a solution to a problem. Temporary. Conditional. One breath away from collapse. For me, anyway.
But I don’t. Instead, I offer a polite nod, pick up my fork, and try not to think about how Galya’s words make something tighten in my chest.
Poe strolls in, meowing as he rubs his tail around my foot before heading for his bowls in the corner. He’s definitely made himself at home already. I’m not even sure he’d come with me if I left.
I’m still eating when two men walk in, all in black like every other one of the men around this damn place.
They just stand there watching me. I have no idea if I’m supposed to address them, dismiss them, or ask if they’re waiting for a seat at the table.
The silence stretches, growing louder by the second.
“Uh…” I glance toward Galya, who seems completely unfazed by the silent giants. “Would you guys like something to eat?” I tilt my head toward the counter.
Both shake their heads in unison.
“Net, spasebo,” one of them answers in a heavy Russian accent.
“Alright, then…” My voice trails off as I glance between them, then back to Galya, who ignores us, cleaning up some dishes instead.
Finally, the man on the right takes a step forward. “I am Viktor.” Then he motions toward the one beside him. “This is Leonid.”
I offer a slow, cautious grin. “Nice to meet you?”
“We are assigned to you,” Viktor says plainly. “Mr. Aleksei sent us.”
My stomach twists. “For what?”
“To follow you,” Leonid adds. “We are your bodyguards now.”
Oh, hell…
“You’re joking.”
They don’t so much as crack a smile.
“Okay, yeah, no.” I rise from the table, napkin hitting the plate with a soft slap. “Absolutely not.”
They continue to silently stand there like my words mean nothing. We’ll see about that.
“Give me a second.” I leave my plate behind, grab my cell, and step into the adjacent dining room to call Aleksei immediately.
He answers on the second ring. “Hello, wife. How may I help you?”
His low rumble curls through me in a way I hate. “I need you to call off your watchdogs.”
A dark chuckle greets me. “No.”
“They can’t follow me to work. People will see. I’ll lose my job.”
“You are my wife now. My danger is your danger,” he throws in causally. “Unless you would like to end up face-down in a ditch somewhere, you will do exactly what I say. Or so help me…” His tone sharpens.
The fury builds so fast I swear I can feel it in my teeth. “You’re such a bastard.”
“Every time, moya ptichka,” he replies smoothly. “Now, unless you need me to pick out your outfit too, I have things to do.”
“Fine,” I grit out. “But they better stay back, far enough that no one notices. No one at work can know about this. Do you hear me?”
He pauses, just long enough to let me feel the silence.
“Losing your job wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he finally says.
“It would be for me. You have no idea what I sacrificed to earn my place. You won’t take that from me too.”
Another pause before he adds, “Horosho. I’ll tell them to keep their distance. But that’s all you get. Goodbye.”
The line cuts off before I can say another word. When I return to the kitchen, Leonid is glancing down at his phone.
“Did he call you?” I ask him.
He lifts his chin. “Texted.”
“Good. Let’s go before I’m late.”
“You don’t want to eat some more?” Galya’s words are gentle, but the disappointment in her expression hits harder than I expect.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I just lost my appetite.”
Grabbing my bag, I adjust my blouse and walk out the front door with both men shadowing me.
I don’t know if I’ll survive this new world I’m in.
The office is quiet, save for the hum of the overhead lights and the occasional clack of someone’s keyboard down the hall.
My screen glares back at me, a wall of text I’ve already read five times without absorbing a single word. I swear I’ve typed the same paragraph twice, maybe three times, and none of it is sticking or sounding right.
With a groan, I delete the entire passage and start again, but all the while, I can’t stop thinking about Aleksei.
His mouth. The way he looked at me. Not in that arrogant way he usually does. It was different this time, almost tender. Like he was searching for something in me he didn’t want to admit he needed.
God. No. Stop.
I drag my hands down my face.
Focus. This is just sex. It’s always been just sex.
I repeat it silently, like a mantra. Because the man is dangerous. A criminal. And the second I forget that, I lose.
A soft knock on the door pulls me out of my spiral just before Dana breezes in, a coffee in one hand, her oversized tote slung over the other arm.
“Hey,” she says, pausing halfway across the room. “You good? You look...off.”
I blink up at her, forcing my features into something close to neutral. “Just tired.”
She sits down across from me, not buying it for a second. “Did you ever report that guy?”
I don’t have to ask which guy she means.
“No,” I answer too quickly. “Honestly, I don’t want to think about it anymore. It happened. It’s over. He didn’t try anything, thankfully. I just want to forget.”
Her brow lifts. “How do you know? That he didn’t try anything?”
Shit.
“Because…someone I know showed up right before he could. He took me home instead.”
Dana leans back, eyes narrowing just slightly. She doesn’t trust that answer, but she also knows when to push and when to let it go.
“Do I know him?”
Clearly, she’s not in the let-it-go stage right now. Awesome…
“Nope.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m fine, I promise. I’d rather focus on work because we need to finish the Soto brief, in case you forgot.”
You know, the one I can’t seem to focus on.
Her brows lift like she knows exactly what I’m doing, but she plays along anyway. “Nice pivot. And yes, I’m almost done with my part. You?”
“Almost done too.”
Dana tilts her head. “You sure you’re okay? Because honestly, you look…I don’t know. Nervous. Glowy. A mix of both.”
“I’m using a new highlighter.”
She snorts. “That’s not it. Did you get laid last night?”
“What?” My voice catches, too loud in the quiet room. “No! Of course not.”
She leans back in her chair, arms folded. “Geez, you’d think I’d accused you of murder. A little sex wouldn’t kill you.”
I try to laugh it off. “I barely go out. You know that.”
“Well, whoever this friend is, he looks good on you.” Her salacious grin brings unnecessary heat to my face.
Before she can dig her teeth in any deeper, there’s a knock at the door and the secretary walks in, arms full of envelopes.
“Morning, Ms. Clark. Your mail.”
“Thanks,” I say, maybe a little too eagerly, as I grab the stack and place it beside my laptop. “Appreciate it.”
Dana watches me for a beat longer, then glances at the stack of mail before flicking her attention back to me.
“Well…” She sighs, stretching as she stands. “That’s my cue to go be productive. Or pretend I’m being productive. I’ll come annoy you later.”
“Looking forward to it.”
She smirks. “But just so you know, I will find out about your new friend. I’m very resourceful.”
“I’m terrified.” I roll my eyes.
“You should be.”
“Yeah, yeah. Bye, psycho.”
She chuckles, shutting the door behind her,
Shaking my head, I grab the unopened mail, knowing I won’t be able to focus on anything else until I’ve sorted through it all and tossed the junk. I sift through the stack of mail without much thought: legal briefs, case updates, nothing too exciting.
Until it is.
My fingers stall on a plain white envelope—no postage, no return address—and I know instantly what it is.
I inhale sharply, not wanting to open it.
Somehow, I’d forgotten about the letters and the threats. But here it is again, staring back like it never left.
Thumb brushing along the seam, I glance at the door, unable to shake the feeling that someone’s on the other side. Watching. Waiting.
I roll my chair closer to the window and glance down at the parking lot, but there’s no one except a bunch of cars and the two men Aleksei assigned to stalk me. Turning back to the envelope, I open it slowly, anxiety winding its way up my spine with every inch of the tearing seal.
Inside is a single sheet of paper with words typed up.
You really think he can save you, Mrs. Marinova? You have no idea what I am capable of.
A chill slides beneath my skin. The paper rustles as I drop it, and my hands haven’t stopped shaking.
I read it again, slower this time, letting each word settle deep in my chest. My gaze drifts toward the window once again, scanning the sidewalk, the parked cars.
Nothing moves. No one stares back.
But someone was close enough to deliver this without being seen.
I fold the letter and tuck it back into the envelope, pushing it to the bottom of my drawer beneath a pile of legal pads. Out of sight, but not out of mind.
The back of my neck prickles. Whoever sent this knows I moved out. That I’m married. They have been watching me, and for the first time, I’m positive this isn’t Aleksei.
It’s someone worse.