Chapter 8
RENATA
“You asshole!” The fucking nerve of him to kiss the hell out of me then sneakily put those damn handcuffs on me. “Why?”
“Mikhail told me to.”
“Mikhail told me to,” I mock, even though I’m well aware of how important it is that he does what Mikhail tells him to.
“Maybe I like the way you look handcuffed,” he says with a casual shrug as he fastens my seat belt like I’m a child. The glint in his eyes makes my heart leap into my throat. I swallow hard.
“That’s your grand plan? Take me back to your family home, with your mother right down the hall, and tie me to your bed?” I wrinkle my nose, pretending my cheeks aren’t flaming hot. “Is that what you do with all the girls you bring home to Mama?”
“No, baby,” he says with another characteristic smirk. “Only you.”
I want to hate him. I want to separate us, at least superficially, with a wall between us so that I don’t ever have to worry about him hurting my heart. I started falling for him—I know I did, but I can’t give my brother any more fodder.
I turn away and stare out the window, looking for any evidence at all that we’re being followed. I can’t see any.
But I know they’re there.
My arm burns from my injury. I’m tired. My eyes feel scratchy, and my mouth is dry from dehydration. I’m a mess. But that doesn’t stop my heart from soaring when I see the Romanov family home looming in front of us, as bright as a brilliant daisy underneath beaming rays of sunlight.
For one small moment, I felt like I belonged, that I was wanted and needed. I felt something like love.
The thick walls, heavily reinforced with steel, weapons, and a convoy of alpha males, make me feel more secure than I’ve felt in a long time.
My brother is brutal and ruthless, but he’s only one person. Only one.
“Ollie,” I say tentatively as the car comes to a stop.
“Yeah?”
“Do I have to talk to everyone now? I don’t want to see any of them, especially since we’re getting married.”
He looks out the window and gives me a curt nod. “I’ll get out first and make sure we have privacy.”
I feel strangely emotional as I watch him exit the car and walk straight toward the front door, his mouth already up to his phone.
I don’t know what he’s saying, but he looks serious as his lips purse, and he gets into a heated discussion. Finally, after a moment, he heads back my way, opens the door, and unlocks the handcuffs. “Coast is clear. Let’s go.”
“Can I just get some rest first?” I ask as I walk beside him. I’m on edge, expecting one of his many siblings to come find us or, at the very least, some of his younger nieces or nephews, but thankfully, we’re alone as we head inside.
“You can see a doctor first,” he says in a tone of voice that brooks no argument. “Before anything else happens. I won’t make you socialize or anything like that, but you do have to take your health seriously.”
I grumble under my breath. I don’t want to see a doctor. I’ve been to hell and back and want a warm bed and time alone to process what I’m doing next.
“Renata,” he growls under his breath.
“What?”
“I’m not going to let you fuck around with your physical health.”
“I got a scratch on my arm. It’s hardly in need of amputation. Mikhail told you to make sure I see a doctor, and God knows you can’t go against anything he tells you to do.” I don’t know why I’m being so ornery. It isn’t like me. Honestly, it isn’t.
“Is that Renata?” I hear his sister Polina’s voice in the background, but someone quickly hushes her.
“After some rest, you will have to see them,” he says. “There’s no getting around that, you know.”
“I know.”
I can’t get past the fact that they all think I betrayed them.
I want so badly to be a part of this family. I want them to know they can trust me, but I'm not sure how to reveal the truth about my brother and what I know about the Romanov family. I have to pretend I am the enemy, even if it will kill me.
"We're going to the bedroom,” he begins. I swallow hard. It feels intimate and dangerous to be alone with him. He continues, undisturbed. “You’ll see the doctor. I'll make sure you get food and something to drink, then you can take a shower and rest. But for now, don't fuck around."
It's the smartest thing to do because even though we are on fairly friendly terms at the moment, I have seen firsthand how quickly that can change.
He leads me to the third floor, a place I've never been. The house is huge and often bustling, but the married men have homes of their own now, so it’s not as chaotic now as it once had been.
Mikhail and Aleksandr, the two oldest brothers, are firmly established and married with children.
They own houses not far from here. The third brother, Nikko, married Vera Ivanova, a doctor often stationed overseas in various countries.
He travels with her. Viktor and his wife, Lydia, also live nearby, but not quite as close as Mikhail and Aleksandr. Lev and Isabella go back and forth between New York and Colombia.
Ollie is the only one who doesn't live on his own.
Before I was taken back to Colombia, we would talk about this. I wanted to know what his plan was, what he dreamed of, and he wanted to know mine as well. He told me, in great detail, and it meant something to me that I was his confidante.
I want to get back there.
Ollie opens the door to the bedroom and gestures for me to go in. I’m tired and weary and have no more power to resist.
Before I can even sit down, there's a sharp knock on the door. Ollie has his weapon drawn.
"You don't need that here," I tell him, my belly twisting. It's so instinctual for him to draw his gun when something unexpected happens; it's like a hair-trigger reaction.
"I know," he says quietly. "I don't want anybody else to hurt you. Not again."
I look away as something in the wall of my chest breaks a little. He doesn't want me to be hurt. It's not just his instinct but his instinct to protect me. My God.
"Who is it?" he snaps.
He told his family to leave me alone, so I don't expect Mikhail.
"Dr. Agostino," comes the response.
An adult Latina woman with short gray hair enters the room. I've never met her before.
Ollie glares at her. "ID, now,” he snaps.
I don't know how he thinks this woman actually got into the family home if she isn’t legit. Without batting an eyelash, she flashes her ID at him.
"What happened?" she says sternly, her gaze fixed on me. I look like a wreck… I know that. Her eyes flash back to Ollie. "Did you do this to her?"
His eyes are immediately on her. "Of course I didn't. That's my fiancée. Did you come in here to interrogate me or to check on her?"
A muscle ticks in his jaw as he stands at his full height, at least a head taller than her, but she's unfazed. "I was hired to check. I need to know if you're an immediate threat."
Huh. She’s lying. He said nothing to her about Ollie being a threat.
That’s all on her. Mikhail vouched for her, and she’s lying to our faces.
I can tell by the shift in eye contact, and her facial expressions betray her.
She’s good at it; I can say that much. I’m guessing she’s concerned about these guys, and for good reason.
"You can leave now, doctor," Ollie snaps as he opens the door.
"Mr. Romanov instructed me to come here," she says. “I am not leaving."
What the fuck? Ollie takes his phone out, places a call, and starts speaking in Russian.
I don't understand what he's saying, but a minute later, Mikhail himself steps into the room.
"Is there a problem here?" he asks. The tension is so thick in here it’s choking me.
I lean back on the bed, exhausted. I don't say anything to anybody. They wouldn't believe me if I did.
"She's giving me shit about whether or not I hurt her," Ollie says.
“A legitimate question,” Mikhail replies evenly. He doesn’t make eye contact with me. "She betrayed us. She's a prisoner. You're marrying her to cure that. Don't forget it."
Ollie locks eyes with the doctor. "Fine. Continue," he says.
"This is what you’re concerned about?" she asks, jerking her chin at my bandaged arm. "Who did the bandage?"
"Ollie did," I say, giving her a wary look because I don't think I like her either. "You did a good job," she says without meeting his eyes. She removes the bandage easily and inspects my arm.
Mikhail and Ollie have a hushed conversation, something to do with competency and trust and respect. I’m not sure who they’re talking about. Maybe all of us.
"Fine," Ollie says to Mikhail.
The doctor looks over my arm. "There's nothing concerning here," she says quietly. "It looks like it was properly disinfected. You can use this pain-relieving cream and take an oral pain reliever as well if you need to. Is there anything else you need from me?"
“No, you may leave,” instructs Mikhail.
I wait until Mikhail leaves us alone, and then it's just me and Ollie. I'm exhausted and so hungry. I feel like I've been to hell and back.
He's going to be my husband, so I might as well pretend that I can trust him, even though I still need some time.
"Ollie?” He brushes a hand through his hair and releases a breath. God, he’s stressed as fuck.
“Yeah?”
“She lied to you."
He turns to unpack our bags. His muscles flex with masculine perfection.
God.
I love watching his body move. I lick my lips and swallow.
Focus.
"What are you talking about, Renata?" he asks.
"She said she was hired to check to see if you were a threat. I can tell she was lying."
He turns around fully to look at me and anchors his hands on his hips. "I know. My brother wouldn’t do that. Seems the doctor has her own agenda. We’ll note that. How do you know somebody's lying?"
"It's a good instinct, an intuition," I tell him. "Sixth sense, you could call it. And if I had to really explain it, it has more to do with expressions. The way people look at you. I just know.”
He frowns. “Are you saying she’s not a doctor?”