Chapter 9 #2
God, I’m so stupid. I should have guessed Misha was up to more than I anticipated. My reaction is instant.
I toss the contract to the floor, sending the pages scattering. “I’m not having a child with you.”
“Same.” He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a dispassionate look. “Because I’m pretty sure your pussy has teeth and it would bite my dick off.”
For a second, my brain can’t formulate a single word.
I stand there staring at him, my water bottle dangling from my fingers, feeling like a car whose engine won’t turn over.
That’s the worst thing anyone has ever said to me.
I can’t decide if I should be offended or consider the source and be amused.
“As if kidnapping and stalking didn’t add enough charm on their own,” I retort. “You really do have a way with words, don’t you?”
He gives me another smirk. “I have a way with everything. I’d show you if you promise to be nice.”
I snort. “Hard pass.”
Scorpion moves to the treadmill and leans against it. “Look, as much fun as it is to stand here arguing with you, I have shit to do. I came here so we could talk this out.”
I’m tempted to throw my water at his head, but I hang on to it in case I need a weapon later. “What is there to talk about?”
“I was told you agreed to this marriage.” He drums his fingers on the treadmill. “Why?”
Like I’m going to tell him about Misha’s threats to Svetlana. I can’t trust Scorpion any more than I can trust my brother. Both of them would use every one of my weaknesses to their advantage. I won’t put another target on Svetlana’s back.
“Because I don’t have a choice.” I flip open my bottle and take a sip. “Is that all you came to ask me?”
His jaw tenses. “Did he hurt you?”
He’s talking about Misha. I’m shocked he even cared enough to ask. I may have been doing my best to steer clear of the world of organized crime, but I know how it works. Obey or pay the price.
I shrug, tired of his posturing. “Would it matter if he did?”
Scorpion gives me a searing look I can’t read. “I protect what’s mine.”
Because I clearly am still suffering from some form of Stockholm syndrome, heat pulses between my legs. Part of me likes the idea of being his, and my annoyance spikes, along with my temper, as I flip the cap of my water bottle closed.
“I’m not yours, Andriani.”
He flicks an inked finger in the direction of the contract I scattered. “Those papers on the floor say you are.”
I can only imagine how backward and chauvinistic any contract approved by Misha would be.
I deeply regret being na?ve enough to think this was an understanding and not a twenty-five-page document listing every move I make.
It probably even dictates whether I can drive a car and how many times a day I can use the bathroom.
“The last time I checked, the wedding didn’t happen yet,” I point out bitterly.
“But it’s going to.”
I know that, but when he says it, the walls of Misha’s gym feel as if they’re closing in on me.
“If you’re worried I won’t be there, don’t be.” I huff out a laugh like I don’t care and go to my yoga mat, starting to roll it up. “I’ll be waiting for you like a good little hostage.”
He follows me, giving me a view of his long legs and black leather Oxfords.
I’m sure they cost more than all the shoes I own combined.
I’ve never accepted the money Misha sent me.
It was blood money, and I didn’t want it.
Instead, I lived off the money I earned.
Early on with waitressing, and later with my paycheck from the company.
Scorpion sinks to his haunches so we’re at eye level again. “Let me help you with this.”
“I don’t want or need your help.” I finish rolling my purple mat and secure it.
“I don’t have a choice any more than you do, you know.” He rakes a hand through his black hair. “This is bigger than both of us.”
“Yeah, it is.” I still have a knot in my stomach from his revelation that the contract Misha signed to basically sell me to the Andrianis stipulates that we have to have a child.
“I can’t just walk away from this, and neither can you.
That’s why I’ve accepted it.” I stand back up, and he does too, unfolding his significant height so that he’s towering over me again. “But the whole children thing…”
I let my words trail off. I’m going to have to talk to Misha. I can handle anything he throws my way. He can force me to marry a stranger, and I’ll do it to protect Svetlana, but why involve an innocent life in this? Why force me to have a child? It’s too far. Too much.
“What if we ignore the stipulation?” I suggest.
“Read the contract.”
“Or you can just tell me what it says since apparently, you’ve read every word of it. Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“No.” He closes the distance between us suddenly, until he’s so close I can feel the warmth from his big, muscled body. “I’m not going to be on the hook for any misconceptions you have.”
I refuse to back down. I’m not his hostage anymore, even if I have no more free will now than I had then.
“What do you mean, misconceptions?”
He steps even closer suddenly, every inch of him pressing against me, and bends his head. “I might not like the idea of getting married any more than you do, but once you’re mine, you’re fucking mine, cara mia.”
Without another word, he walks out of the gym, leaving me standing there with a pounding heart, a fluttering deep in my belly, and a floor covered in the marriage contract I don’t want to read.
Katya
“You’re home,” I say tonelessly when Misha finally comes through the door at three a.m.
I’ve been waiting for him to return ever since Scorpion left this afternoon. Waiting and hoping to talk.
If he’s surprised to find me awake at this late hour, he doesn’t show it. He takes off his coat and shoes slowly, carefully, saying nothing. Misha has a routine for everything, and he’s a neat freak. The drawers in his kitchen, every cabinet, even the bath towels, are ordered and uniform and tidy.
When he hangs his coat and turns toward me, I notice the red spattered over his white button-down shirt.
He glances down, following my stare. “Late night at the office.”
His knuckles are bruised and bloodied.
“Is the blood yours?” I ask, although I already know it’s not.
He gives me a small smile. “What do you think, Katya?”
I was curled up on one of the couches under a throw blanket, but now I stand up, not wanting to give him the advantage of towering over me. “I think it’s someone else’s.”
“Someone who didn’t obey the rules as he should have done.”
Misha’s rules, I assume. I almost ask if the man is still alive, but I’m sure I know the answer to that question too—dead. Whether by Misha’s hand or someone else’s, it doesn’t matter. The ending’s the same. Just like it will be for me if I step out of line.
There’s a subtle, unspoken threat in my brother’s voice.
He goes to the kitchen area and washes his hands. He must have come directly home from whatever went down, or he’d have cleaned up first. It’s not like Misha to go around wearing the blood of his victims. But then, maybe there was another reason for that.
Maybe he wanted to intimidate me, to remind me of what will happen to me or Svetlana if I don’t marry Scorpion a few days from now the way he wants.
“I thought you would have been back sooner,” I say, trying to match his nonchalance. “Yana made dinner.”
And it wasn’t healthy, but I ate what little of it I could stomach without complaining because I know she reports directly back to my brother. I’ve been trying to stay on his good side. No one wants to be on Mikhail Sidorov’s shit list.
Misha chuckles, the only other sound the spray of the water in the sink. “Waiting up for me, sestrenka?”