Chapter 10
Alina
Iget just about the worst sleep possible on my wedding night, and not for a good reason.
I dream about beautiful demons pulling me to pieces. I dream about corpses under my bed. I dream about a flood of blood rolling from my closet.
The noise of my coffee grinder yanks me awake. Early morning sunlight blinds me for half a minute. I groan, rolling onto my belly as it grinds and grinds for an absurdly long time. Finally, when it’s over, I peer up over the couch.
Seamus is in my kitchen. He’s making himself coffee with my espresso machine.
He’s also shirtless and still in his underwear.
The man’s absurd. He’s beautiful. Long, muscular legs. Thighs built for breaking hearts. Intricate, deadly tattoos covering his torso. Those freaking V muscles pointing down to his bulging package.
Why does my husband have to be so hot?
And such a freaking prick?
“Good morning, princess,” he says, not looking back at me.
How the hell did he know?!
I sink back down behind the couch and curl into a ball. I don’t bother to reply. I listen to him steaming milk and running water. The smell of coffee finally makes me open my eyes.
He puts a steaming latte down on the table in front of me and takes a spot on the couch, lifting my feet to put them in his lap.
The brazen asshole. There’s plenty of space at the other end!
He sips his drink.
“Our first morning of blissful matrimony,” he says with a big smile. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
I yank my feet away. I can feel his dick under my heel, and I definitely don’t need that right now. “What time is it?”
He checks his watch. It’s a Rolex. Who the hell sleeps in a Rolex? “A little past seven.”
“You’re the sickest man alive.” I groan and take my coffee in both hands, sitting as far from him as I can.
“I think it’s better to face the day than to hide from it.”
“I think it’s better to get a full eight hours of sleep. Ten if I’m in a bad mood.”
“Ah, how can you be in a bad mood with a view like that?” He stands and gazes out the big windows. The light streams around him, making his firm ass shine like the freaking sun. I stare at his body before curling up even tighter around myself.
It’s not fair. It’s just sinful to have an ass like that.
“I need to shower,” I say, leaping up. I drink more coffee as I hurry away. “You can be gone when I get out!”
“No thanks,” he says, still standing at the window, still nearly naked and godlike and beautiful. “Don’t busy yourself too much in there. You’re a married woman now. You have a husband to handle your needs.”
“I’m not going to—” He’s grinning at me, clearly just trying to rile me up. I hurry away, cheeks burning red, because it definitely worked.
What a terrible start to our marriage.
First, he runs my boyfriend out of town, then he comes over and we have sex, which was obviously a mistake.
Next, the wedding gets ruined by a murder, of all things.
And last, and maybe worst, he walks around my apartment wearing nearly nothing like he owns the place.
I don’t even know what I can do about it.
Technically, the man’s my husband now. He’s not breaking any rules. If anything, my family would encourage this behavior.
They want an heir.
Which means I have to get pregnant.
From Seamus.
And his huge dick.
God damn it.
I take a long, leisurely shower, hoping he’ll be gone when I’m done. Instead, I find him sitting in my living room, still shirtless, but mercifully with his rumpled suit pants on.
“You’re still here?”
“I know, what a treat.” He grins at me, raising up his mug. “Good coffee.”
“Seriously, Seamus, what is this? You can see that I’m safe. No reason to hang around. Don’t you have work or something?”
“You’re my work today.” He’s smirking, eyes sparkling. Clearly, the asshole enjoys riling me up.
I don’t give him the pleasure. I keep myself as calm as I can. “Then maybe we should discuss our future together.”
Nothing like logistics and relationship discussions to make a guy like Seamus run away.
“Great idea.” He leans back in his chair, putting one muscular arm behind his head. I swear he’s flexing. The bastard. “I want you to move in with me.”
I grimace and turn to the sink, pretending to focus on cleaning the wine glasses from last night. I knew this was going to happen, but I hoped I’d have more time to acclimate to him first.
But it seems that the murder at the wedding is accelerating things.
“Maybe we should slow down.”
“What happened to talking about our future?”
He’s having too much fun right now.
It really annoys me.
“Why move in together?” I try to pretend like this doesn’t bother me. “And if anything, you should move in here.”
“My place is secure.”
“And so is my apartment. I have a great location, two floors, a beautiful balcony—”
“I’m located closer to my family’s power base.”
“Same goes for me. Plus, my place is just—” I gesture all around. “Why would I give it up?”
He leans forward, frowning now. I can tell he doesn’t like my answer. “I didn’t say you had to sell it. But we’re married, and married couples live together.”
“Is that some kind of law of the universe or something?” I dry the wine glasses and put them away. “We could have some kind of modern arrangement. You know, two days there, five days here.”
“Not interested.”
“You don’t get to unilaterally make that call.”
“Someone got murdered at our wedding. Remember that? Everyone seems to think it was a coincidence, but I have a bad feeling. We’re living together, princess.”
A cold chill runs down my spine. I turn away and look out the window.
Could he be right? Could that killing actually have had something to do with our wedding?
There’s no way to say for sure. He’s guessing as much as anyone else.
“Is this some kind of macho thing? You can’t stand the idea of your wife having her own life?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t give a damn what you do.”
“Then I’ll stay here.”
“You’ll move in with me.” He rises slowly. “Because the truth is you’re my responsibility.”
“I’m not some dog you have to look after.”
“No, you’re the daughter of a powerful Bratva boss, and you’re my wife.” He rubs his face and blows out a breath. “You’re going to make every single decision I make difficult, aren’t you?”
“If they don’t involve me, absolutely.”
“Come visit my house. If you hate it, we’ll talk about some other arrangement.” He scowls at that last word.
“Fine. But no matter what we do, I’m keeping my apartment.”
He turns away with a casual shrug. “Whatever keeps my beautiful wife happy.”
I know it shouldn’t matter, but this is my place.
It’s the first space that ever really felt like a home.
Even back when I was younger and living with my father in the Morozov family mansion, it never felt like I really belonged.
I was always an afterthought. Always in the way.
I learned how to survive in that place and accepted my role in this world.
I learned how to be a good girl and how to follow the rules.
But it was here that I started to learn about who I really am and who I want to be.
It’s hard to give that up.
Plus, some deep, dark part of my heart still clings on to the tiny, improbable hope that I won’t stay married to Seamus forever.
I know that’s messed up, but I never wanted this relationship.
And if it ends, I’ll need somewhere to go.
This apartment is my escape hatch.
Seamus might not like that—but he’ll learn to live with it.
Now I just need to convince him to wear a shirt at all times, and I’ll be in good shape.