Chapter 14
Brielle
He’s going to do it tonight. I can feel it.
Kane is going to propose.
It’s been a week since I was forced to move in with him.
Since I came up with the bright idea to infiltrate his bedroom and bathroom with my stuff, thinking it’d overwhelm him, only for him to not even bat an eye.
Not that it should surprise me.
Every game I play, Kane ends up winning.
I dressed like a knockoff cowgirl to go to a business brunch, thinking he’d either tell me to change or I’d be denied admittance to the country club, but he was one step ahead, taking us to his restaurant.
I tried to seduce him, thinking it would lead to getting info out of him, but one kiss, and I threw my plan out the window, unable to handle being that close to him—not if I had any chance of resisting my soon-to-be husband.
I leave my clothes all over the floor like a slob, and they magically end up washed and hung up. I scatter my makeup and lotions all over the his-and-hers sinks and counters, and when I go to wash my face in the evening, it’s all neatly placed on my side.
Every morning, I leave for the gym before he gets up to avoid him, and every night, he has dinner on the table when I walk in the door.
The only thing I’ve managed to avoid is having sex with him. I sleep on my side of the bed, and he sleeps on his, not even attempting anything with me.
I don’t know if I’m thankful that he’s respecting my wishes or aggravated that I have a man at my disposal who knows how to satisfy me, but doesn’t due to my stubbornness.
The way my body currently ignites at his touch as we sit at dinner with my family has me leaning more toward the latter.
We’re eating at the country club since my mom loves it here and she picked the place. Both my brothers and their wives are here, and my mom is with her husband. Then there’s Kane and me.
We’ve been seen in public a few times now, and the town is talking.
They know we’re dating, so it makes sense that he’ll propose soon, especially since he has no desire to wait to get married.
Once we’re legally married, the contract will be signed, and Morgan Enterprises will be an official investor in the South Harbor Point waterfront expansion, just like he wanted.
Kane stands and glances at me, and my stomach riots.
All I wanted was to fall in love with a man who wanted to spend his life with me.
I wanted the family and children and holidays.
After Owen was killed and my baby was ripped from my womb, I should’ve given up hope, but I didn’t.
I told myself that if I could get through that horrific time, I would do everything in my power to find the love that Andrey had taken from me.
I wouldn’t let him win. I wanted a Hallmark love story, but instead, I’m getting the Netflix version.
“Brielle,” Kane says, garnering everyone’s attention, “when I saw you sitting right here with your friend, complaining about men, I never thought the night would end with me becoming undeniably infatuated with you, but here we are. I’ve considered where I should propose, but when I was told we were coming here, to the very place it’d all started for us, it’s like it was kismet. ”
He pulls out the ring box and opens it, and my heart cracks because his words are sweet, the look on his face is sincere, but none of it is real, except the ridiculously obnoxious ring he’s about to put on my finger.
“Brielle Antonova, will you marry me?”
I’m thankful he didn’t lie and tell me he loved me, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
To know that when I marry, it will represent everything that I’m against—greed, power, control, and revenge.
All I wanted was to marry someone good, to have a normal life with a man who loves me, and instead, once again, I’m being dragged back into the fold, only it was my doing.
“Yes,” I tell him simply with a small smile, not wanting to be caught grimacing in any photos that might be taken of us.
The last thing I want is for my family to look like fools, and if anyone found out that Kane had blackmailed me into marriage, we would not only be the laughingstock of Harbor Point, but men who feared the Antonov name would use that to their advantage, thinking they could blackmail and threaten us into doing as they wanted.
Kane slides the huge rock onto my finger, and I chant to myself to keep a smile on my face while my family plays their part, hugging and congratulating us.
“I’m so happy for you,” Mom says, enveloping me in a motherly hug.
I glance at Matteo, who looks anything but happy, and shake my head.
I considered telling my mom the truth, but decided not to. She’s always been so worried about me, afraid that she failed her children, and if she knew my marriage was fake, she would only feel worse. She’s been through enough in her life, and she deserves to be happy.
“It’s not too late to take him out,” Matteo murmurs as he hugs me tightly.
“No more bloodshed,” I remind him.
He sighs but nods in agreement.
Once everyone sits back down, the waiter brings out a special dessert to celebrate our engagement. Kane feeds me a bite, playing up his part as the doting fiancé, but I’m too nauseous to eat any more.
When we get home from dinner, I take a long bath, hoping once I get out, he’ll be asleep. Only luck isn’t on my side because when I step out of the bathroom, he’s sitting against the headboard, typing on his phone.
“What about Valentine’s Day?”
“What about it?”
I walk over to the dresser and drop my towel, sliding a pair of panties on. Since Kane has seen me naked more than once, it’s pointless to try to hide myself from him.
When he doesn’t respond, I glance in the mirror, finding him staring heatedly at me. My lady parts come to life, thinking they’re about to get some much-needed attention, and I clench my thighs together to stave off the tension between my legs.
Kane knowingly smirks, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m not having sex with you again … ever.”
He laughs. “You really think you can resist having sex for the rest of your life?”
“Who said anything about resisting sex? I just said I’m not having sex with you.”
Kane growls, and within seconds, he’s out of the bed and pressed against my back, his hard length prodding the crack of my ass.
“If you even think about opening those pretty legs for anyone but me, just know that you’re signing their death warrant.”
He grinds his hips into my backside, and I stifle a groan.
“You can do it too,” I choke out. “You can fuck whoever you want.”
Kane grips my hips and spins me around, lifting me and setting me on top of the dresser. My legs part, and he steps between them.
“Let’s get one thing straight.” He thumbs my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“I have no desire to fuck anyone but you. You are my fiancée, and on Valentine’s Day, you’ll become my wife, and you’ll be the only woman I spend the rest of my life fucking.
I loved my father, but I watched what him living two lives did to my parents, and I will never live that type of life. ”
“And what if I never have sex with you?” I defiantly jut my chin out of his touch.
“Princess,” he coos, gliding his hand from the curve of my hip to the apex of my legs, “if I slid my hand into your panties, I guarantee I’d find them slick with arousal.”
He quirks a brow, asking permission, and because he’s not wrong, I slam my legs closed on his hand, then shove him back so I can hop down.
“You’d find me dry as a desert,” I lie. “But you won’t find out because you’re never touching me again.”
I really need to stop talking because when I give in—and we both know I will eventually—I’m going to be forced to eat my damn words.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed in peace.” I throw on a shirt and cotton shorts and then climb into bed, facing away from Kane.
And then I remember what he said about getting married …
“And getting married on Valentine’s Day is kind of perfect,” I say, turning around so I can look into his eyes.
They widen in shock and, if I’m not mistaken, a bit of hope, until I speak my next words.
“After all, the legend says that Valentine’s Day derived from Saint Valentine, a Roman priest who went against the emperor’s ban on marriage—which had been done so men were more agreeable to go to war—and he was brutally executed on February 14. Kind of fitting, right?”
Kane’s eyes turn into thin slits, but before he can comment, I flip over so my back is to him.
“Good night, fiancé. Can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together in hell.”
“And this is my Barbie, Matilda.” I grin at my mother. “She’s going to marry Ken.” I grab the boy Barbie and show it to her. “And they’re going to have babies. And Matilda is going to be a teacher.” I beam up at my mother, who smiles softly at me.
“A teacher, huh?” she says.
“Yep. Just like me. When I get older, I’m going to go to college and be a teacher, just like Mrs. Stone. She’s my favorite teacher and—”
“Enough!” a masculine voice booms, making me jump.
My father stalks in and swipes the Barbies off the table while I shake in fear. He was supposed to be out of town for another day. It’s the only time I’m allowed to play with my Barbies. But he must’ve gotten home early.
“What did I tell you about letting her play with this shit?” my father yells at my mother, yanking on her hair and dragging her off the couch. “I told you she’s not allowed to fill her head with this nonsense!”
“Andrey, please!” my mother cries. “I’m sorry. I—”
“I warned you,” he says, snatching up my Barbies off the floor.
“Please, Daddy!” I cry as he carries them into the kitchen.
He lifts the lid of the trash, and when he throws my Barbies inside, it feels like he also threw away all of my hopes and dreams.
When I try to reach and grab them, he shoves me so hard that I fly onto the ground and hit my head against the cabinet.