Idiot.
I forced a smile, thin and professional, and steadied my shaking legs. “The blue one is lovely. Thank you.”
He nodded, but his gaze lingered a second too long. “Good choice.”
We walked back down the hall. He paused outside a set of double doors.
“And this,” he said, pushing them open, “is the moment you’ve been waiting for. At least, I hope so.”
I actually gasped as he nudged me into the room ahead of him.
Floor-to-ceiling shelves in rich, dark walnut. Thousands of books, leather spines with gold foil lettering perfectly aligned,stacks of paperbacks on a long table in the middle of the room. Huge, heavy, coffee table books full of rich photography, maps, art, and history resting on a rich Persian rug next to a baroque couch. Rolling ladders. Leather armchairs arranged around a massive stone fireplace. The air smelled of old paper, polished wood, and something faintly spicy. I recognized it instantly. His cologne, lingering from earlier.
I hurried further inside without thinking, like I’d just discovered Narnia was real. My fingers brushed a shelf. First editions. Classics. Rare volumes I’d only ever seen in photos online.
I turned to him, eyes wide. “You weren’t joking around when you said you had a library.”
“I wasn’t. I rarely joke about things that are important to me.” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “We can spend many happy hours here, Clem, since we both like reading.”
Understatement of the century. Here I thought he was just making small talk when he brought up books.
My throat tightened. “This is… incredible.”
“Stay as long as you want,” he said quietly. “Read anything. Everything.”
I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
We left the library after I solemnly inspected every aisle and shelf. He showed me the kitchen—marble counters, professional-grade appliances, a breakfast nook with a view of a stunning pool that could have rivaled any exotic resort. The living room, with its sunken seating, massive sectional, and art, I was certain didn’t come from a craft supply store. The hometheater with an old-fashioned popcorn machine. The gym. The indoor pool, as if the outdoor one wasn’t enough.
It was too much. All of it. How was I going to pull off pretending I belonged here? I was still trying to process everything when he stopped in the hallway outside the master suite.
“Dinner tonight,” he said, casual as anything. “With my family.”
My brain rolled over, as dead as my car. “Your family?”
He nodded. “It’s time you met some of the cousins. They want to meet you.”
Meet me. The new wife. The one he’d married in secret. The one who hadn’t known she was married until today.
My mouth went dry. “Rurik, this doesn’t seem like a good idea. What will we tell them?”
“They know about the marriage,” he said, reading the panic in my face. “Not the circumstances. Just that it happened. Quickly. Quietly.”
I stared at him. “And they’re okay with that?”
A small, wry smile curved his lips. “They’re Fokins. This isn’t out of the ordinary. We tend to do things our own way.”
I barked a short, hysterical laugh as I tried to catch the breath that seemed to keep getting knocked out of me. “Right. Of course. Sure.”
He stepped closer. Not crowding, but close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him. He was so big, so powerful. The kind of man who could… arrange a secret marriage and convince his entire family it was perfectly fine.
“Clem.” His voice dropped. “You don’t have to do anything tonight except be yourself. They’ll love you.”
Myself. Whoever that was right then. I looked up at him, studying his face when I heard something change in his voice. There was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before in the office. Vulnerability, maybe. Or hope.
My heart fluttered again. “Okay,” I whispered.
He exhaled, almost in relief. “Good.” And just like that, he was back to being completely in charge. The boss.