12. Blair
Blair
“ I ’ll be back at the usual time to pick him up.” I smile. Mila doesn’t acknowledge me and simply holds Niko closer to her chest, like I’m going to try and snatch him away from her.
Her eyes skip over me entirely as she smiles at Andrei like he hung the moon.
“Thank you for bringing him,” she says, looking awestruck. I twist my hands together, trying not to cringe. She doesn’t move until Andrei, shifting from foot to foot, mutters an awkward goodbye, then she turns away and closes the door behind her.
I tug on the hem of my off-white dress on the way back to the car.
It’s been buried in the back of my closet for years, and I wish I’d let it stay there.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to wear for a spontaneous courthouse wedding, so I settled on something that was dressy but still casual. Then Andrei showed up.
Instead of his normal faded jeans and leather jacket, he’s wearing a suit and tie. Even his hair, which is normally casually tousled in a way that shouldn’t look as good as it does, has been tamed .
Am I underdressed?
Maybe I should have done more to dress up, but it took more effort than I have in me right now to put on a little makeup and twist my hair into a braid. And none of it hides the fact that I spent half the night crying and the other half tossing and turning, but I did my best.
Besides, it doesn’t matter what I look like. It’s not like Andrei actually cares.
Part of me wants to ask what he expects of this arrangement, but I’m a coward. It’s easier to assume that this will be a marriage in name only.
He’ll probably have to make a show of having me by his side at some point, and maybe he’ll stop by to check on us a little more often than he already does, but that’s as far as I expect him to go.
At least until he gets over his guilt and whatever flawed logic is pushing him to marry me.
Once that’s out of the way, I’m sure he’ll go through his life pretending I don’t exist at all.
Last night he said he never would have hurt me, but that doesn’t mean he likes me.
Daniil once told me it was Andrei’s idea to use me to help tidy up their drug smuggling operations, but I’d bet everything in my bank account that he regretted it immediately. I mean, he can hardly stand to look at me, and when he does, he’s usually glowering.
I’ve tried to be friendly, but my attempts have always fallen flat. Dinner invitations were often declined and attempts to talk to him when he came over were swiftly shut down.
His consistent rejections are the cherry on top of the sundae of my conflicted emotions and thoughts when it comes to Andrei Voronov. Lingering resentment, constant doubt, and the stupid attraction to him I’ve never been able to get rid of are a toxic mixture.
It isn’t entirely his fault. I know that. I was always worried that I’d find myself on the wrong end of his gun, which makes it hard to be friendly. But I tried.
At least a little bit.
Sometimes.
Everything would have been so much easier if he’d matched the uncomplicated image I had of him when we first met, in the moments before he pulled his gun.
Just a tall, handsome stranger with an easy smile and dark, messy hair.
For those few blissful seconds, he gave me an illusion.
Then the smile fell away, and he pulled the sense of ease out from under my feet.
I’m jolted out of my thoughts when he pulls into a parking lot next to a boring, drab building that blends in with the rest of the equally lackluster businesses around us.
He clears his throat. “C’mon, I don’t want to be late for our appointment.”
“Don’t we need a witness or something?” I ask, even though it’s a pointless attempt at stalling. No matter how many times I’ve turned it over in my head, I can’t find a way out of this.
Andrei’s right, marrying him will keep me alive. I don’t have a choice.
“Not in Illinois.”
My heart stutters in my chest with panic, looking around for something that will get me out of this. Some way that means I won’t have to be tied to another man who doesn’t want to be with me for any reason other than his own sense of duty .
In the back of my mind, there’s a younger, more idealistic version of myself that wants to weep at the injustice of it all. I like to think that I’m a practical, grounded person, but it’s hard to let go of the romantic ideas I clung to as a child.
I get out of the car and look at Andrei.
His hands are shoved into his pockets, a deep frown creasing his brow.
The past five years have run me ragged, but they’ve been nothing but kind to him.
The faint lines around the corners of his eyes are a little deeper, but his shoulders are just as broad.
When he turns his head, the sun catches the stray gray hairs just starting to peek out along his temples.
His suit looks like it was made just for him, showing off his powerful, muscular frame. Even his tie brings out the cold color of his eyes. I brush my thumb over a wrinkle in my dress, doing my best to force it into submission.
When I let my mind wander, I still linger over hesitant fantasies of what would have happened if he ever looked twice at me. I’ve never allowed those thoughts to take root, not even in my imagination.
They’re too far from reality to waste energy on them. It’d be just as worthwhile to wonder what would happen if I stumbled upon a unicorn.
My cheeks heat when he catches me looking at him.
It’s not fair, I think for the hundredth time.
Andrei deserves to be happy, too . He hates me, and he shouldn’t have to tie himself to me. Even if it’s just on paper.
With that, my mind goes on autopilot, not kicking on again until we’re standing in front of the judge, repeating everything he says .
Before I know what’s happening, Andrei slips two rings onto my finger. I look at them, a brilliant pink stone sparkling back at me under the fluorescent lights, complemented by a simpler band right below it.
An engagement ring and a wedding ring in one fell swoop.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the judge says, and a flash of dread hits me, freezing my whole body.
I should have pushed Andrei harder last night and insisted we hammer out some of the finer details about this arrangement.
Because I’m sure he doesn’t want to kiss me , and I don’t know if I can stomach the humiliation of having him explain that to some judge I’ve never met before.
Even if we’ll probably never see him again, I don’t—
All thoughts come to a sudden stop when Andrei grips my waist, pulling me against him while he tugs gently on the end of my braid until I’m looking up at him. In fact, my mind goes wonderfully, blissfully blank as his lips cover mine, warm and unyielding.
My cheeks heat and I feel like I’m caught in a freefall. All I can do is brace myself against him while his lips make the butterflies in my stomach take off, fluttering under my skin.
My hands find his chest, my whole body swaying into his to keep my balance as my knees go weak.
I don’t know what I thought kissing Andrei would be like, but I wasn’t expecting it to set my blood on fire as his tongue prods gently against the seam of my lips, controlling the kiss as easily as he breathes.
Not in my wildest dreams did I think kissing Andrei would feel like this .
When he pulls away, it takes a moment before I can open my eyes, feeling drugged as I look at his pleased smirk, stunned by the thick erection pressing against me while my stomach swoops.
“Oh,” I breathe. He chuckles, the sound rumbling against my chest. It takes another moment before I’m able to find my footing again, pulling back as I try to ignore the way he’s looking at me.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he murmurs.
I can’t tell if he’s asking me, or himself. My hands are still shaking when I press my fingers against my lips. They’re sparking with electricity, buzzing in his absence.
The judge clears his throat, slamming me back down to earth. “Congratulations, you two.”
What the hell just happened?
I take a step back, but Andrei’s arm is still wrapped around my waist, keeping me against him. He nods and shifts his grip to my hand long enough for us to sign the papers before he pulls me toward the exit.
I squeak out a quick thanks before the door slams shut. If the judge responds, I don’t get a chance to hear it.
Now what?
A couple signed forms, a few words, a couple rings, a hot as hell kiss, and we’re married? The butterflies vanish as my stomach knots with anxiety. Now do we go back to how things were? Living in each other’s orbit, both of us pretending the other doesn’t exist?
That kiss was unexpected, sure, but it was just a blip. A single abnormality that won’ t be repeated.
Right?
Right.
I settle a little at the thought.
The ride home is just as quiet as the ride there. Before I can find a way to fill the silence, I’m standing on the porch of my house.
“When do you think we’ll see you again?” I ask, even though I don’t want to. I don’t expect anything to change. He’ll leave, and maybe he’ll stop by in a few days to make sure we’re doing alright, but that’s as far as this arrangement will go.
Andrei squints at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out.
“We’ll have to make an appearance at some point, right?” I ask hesitantly.
This whole marriage is pointless if no one knows about it, but I’m not exactly champing at the bit to find out what his plans are, either. I have to find a way to reconcile everything that’s happened, and the added weight of other people’s judgment will only make it harder.
Instead of answering, he turns on his heel and walks back toward his car.
I guess that’s my answer.
My hands shake as I unlock the door, but before I’m able to step inside, Andrei’s back at my side, a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder.
“Sorry, I forgot this.”
I hesitate, but he nods his head toward the door. I don’t get a chance to move before he saunters straight in and drops the bag at his feet, fixing me with an intense look.
“What are you doing? ”
“I’m moving in.”
He’s what?
“You’re what?”
“I’m not letting my wife sleep under a different roof, and you’re not moving out of the only home Niko’s ever known. So, I’m moving in.”
His gaze doesn’t waver, and I stammer uselessly, grasping desperately for the right words. I understand everything he said, but the order he put the words in doesn’t make any sense.
“But you have your own place.”
He grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to look him in the eye.
“I need you to listen to me, Blair. You’re my wife. ”
He almost sounds… pleased?
That can’t be right. I have to be making it up. It’s the stress of the past couple months catching up with me, that’s all.
“We’re going to be living in the same house.
If you aren’t ready to share a bed with me, that’s fine.
I’ll sleep in the guest room until you are.
But I’m going to be here. With you.” His jaw flexes, and I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me. His eyes search mine, but for what, I’m not sure.
I don’t know if he finds it or not, but he lets me go, picks up his bag, and storms up the stairs. Presumably toward the guest room.
What the hell just happened?