“I’ll buy you a factory,” he says again, not missing a beat.
I close my eyes.
Outside, the club is still roaring. In here, everything has changed.
The few days before the wedding
The week passes in a blur of quiet, unnerving shifts. True to his word, Alexei tones it down. He is still insufferable, controlling, and convinced he is always right, but he tries. He asks questions and waits for the answers, remembers details I mentioned in passing, and makes my coffee exactly how I like it without being asked. He even sits through a two-hour documentary about investigative journalism that I know bored him to near death, only speaking to ask questions when it finishes.
I learn things about him, too. I watch him read in the early mornings before anyone else is awake, and I notice how he eats mushrooms—which I know he hates—simply because he read they are good for brain function. There is a photograph in his wallet that he turns away to protect, a piece of his life he refuses to let me see. And then there is the way his face changes when he really laughs; it turns into something I wasn't prepared for the first time I saw it up close, something that doesn't belong to the man who hides behind a controlled mask for everyone else.
I haven't told him any of this by the end of the week. But I find myself stopping the voice inside my head that keeps telling me I hate him. And looking at the way he watches me now, I think he knows.
Chapter 23
Anya
The intercom on the nightstand crackles to life, and Zoya’s voice fills the room. “ANYA! Are you going to come get your dinner or what?!”
I groan and roll off the guest bed, crossing the room to press the button. “I’m coming!”
“THEN COME FIND ME! Take the elevator down to the last floor!”
“Alright, sure,” I mutter to the empty room.
I step into the hallway and immediately realize I’m hopelessly lost. This house is massive, and even though I’ve been here since yesterday, every turn looks the same. I wander past closed doors and expensive artwork, turning corners only to find more endless hallways.
Where is the damn elevator?
I pass a door that’s cracked slightly open and can’t help but peek inside. It’s a beautiful, masculine room with dark wood and black silk sheets. My eyes go wide when I spot the vanity. Multiple guns are laid out like an armory, and right next to them sits a watch.
I walk over and pick it up, whistling low when I see the brand. “Patek Philippe. The real deal,” I whisper. “This is worth at least 200,000 euros.”
“What are you doing?”
I jump and spin around, nearly fumbling the expensive watch. A man stands in the doorway, and he is a total giant - six-five easily, with broad shoulders and thick, tattooed arms. His dark hair is still wet, and he’s shirtless, wearing nothing but grey sweatpants.
“Oh my god, don’t scare me like that!” I breathe.
He looks down at me, his eyes searching mine. “Who are you?” As soon as our gazes meet, his expression softens into something almost shy. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I’m Anya, Zoya’s friend.” I hold out my hand, and it practically disappears when he takes it.
“Taras. Alexei’s cousin.”
“Nice to meet you.” I hold up the watch. “This is really beautiful.”
“Thank you. You can set it down now.”
I give him a playful look. “Can I have it?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s mine,” he says simply.
“Come on. It’s not like you don’t have the money to buy more.”