“How do I know you even have that much money to pay me?”NowI think of this.
“I’ll show you.” He stares straight ahead. We ride in stiff silence for twenty minutes or so, until we pause for him to punch a code into a gate keypad. “This is my family’s compound. I have a private residence onsite.”
“No girlfriend?” I quip. Seems suspicious that a guy who looks like this, with money to burn, would need to kidnap a woman to find a wife.
“I don’t do relationships,” he says flatly.
“Why not? A guy who looks like you…” I trail off. Embarrassment heats my cheeks.
“Too complicated. Besides, my family normally does arranged marriages. It’s a Russian thing.”
That seems…not quite accurate? I guess arranged matches take place in many cultures. I’ve never heard of that being a feature of modern Russian culture, though I can’t claim I know much about it. With Nik acting so stiff and angry, I’m not going to press the point.
“What about you?” he asks.
“What about me?”
“Do you have a boyfriend, Sierra?” He cuts the engine. Instead of answering, I get out. These stupid shoes are killing my feet. The desert gets cold at night. I run my hands up and down my arms, shivering. A shimmering pool is visible just beyond another gate. Nick gestures to the stucco house straight ahead.
“I’m in between relationships,” I finally say. “Besides, if I did, I wouldn’t be agreeing to marry you. Not for any amount of money.”
“Are guys in Los Angeles blind or something?” He punches another code into the keypad on the door. I don’t answer him. I can’t think of a response, and I don’t think he was looking for one anyway. “There are cameras everywhere. Armed guards monitor the compound. If you attempt to run, you won’t get beyond the perimeter.”
“I won’t.” I gaze around the house. I’ve cleaned a lot of homes in my twenty-two years. I can size up a job with good accuracy. How long it will take. How much the family can afford to pay, based on the quality of their furniture and decor. This is a home on the upper end of the scale. On par with Alisa Morozova’s house, if a different architectural style. It looks custom-built.
“I’ll ask my sister to bring over something for you to wear,” Nik says, striding away.
“Is she my size?”
“No. She’s taller than you are. But it’s that orborrowing from my mother, and that means a whole lot of questions that I don’t want to answer.” He motions me into a bedroom and points to the ensuite bath. “Get cleaned up. You’ll find an extra toothbrush in the vanity.”
“If she has any flats I can wear, I’d appreciate it. My feet are killing me.”
“I’ll see what we can do.”
Nik closes the door, leaving me in peace. I fight my way out of the ruined red dress, kick off the fancy heels with a sigh of relief when the soles of my feet flatten on the floor, and step into the walk-in shower. There are so many knobs it looks like a spaceship. I turn one likely-looking sleek handle and get hit in the face with a spray. Sputtering, I manage to find the right one and relax into the warm water, which stings my carpet-burned cheek. I let my forehead rest against the cool glass.
What in the hell am I doing?
Nikolai
I’m aimlessly pacingaround my bedroom waiting for my guest—my bride—to finish cleaning up. I change into a proper suit while keeping one eye on the bathroom door. I have better manners than to get married in the clothes I kidnapped a woman in, dark denim, ablack T-shirt, and a blazer.Mamushkawould murder me if I didn’t. Literally.
When the doorbell rings I’m of half a mind to ignore it lest Sierra try to escape. The promise of ten million seems to have convinced her to go through with this, however. I stride to the front door and yank it open. My brother, Rion, stands on the stoop holding a paper bag. He cranes his neck, trying to peer past me.
“So you got a bride. I’ll be damned,” he says in Russian.
“Don’t be nosy.”
“I can’t help it. How did you, a guy who prides himself on never sleeping with a girl twice, find a chick stupid enough to let you put a ring on it?”
“Bribery.”
“Figures.” He chuckles and passes me the bag. “Lilia says this is the best wedding dress she can come up with on short notice.”
“Where is she?”
“Primping. She says she’s coming along to be a bridesmaid.” Rion smirks. I groan.