“The hell she is.”
“Figured I’d come, too. Be your groomsman.” My brother bumps my shoulder.
“Why aren’t you out looking for a wife?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Maybe I already have one,” he says with a lopsided grin. I slam the door in his face. I hear him laughing as he walks away. Asshole.
5
NIKOLAI
Inside the house, I yank open the bag my brother brought over and pull out a pale-yellow sundress with blue trim. It’s feminine and has a stretchy panel across the back. Lilia thoughtfully included a pair of plain white canvas shoes that look unworn. No underwear. I’m perfectly fine with that. It’ll make getting Sierra naked that much easier.
An unexpected surge of lust careens through my body. The first thing I noticed about her, arguably the asset that short-circuited my logical brain, was the sight of her gorgeous round ass encased in red silk. I can imagine exactly how she’ll feel in my hands…
I shake my head to clear it. Get married. Get her pregnant. Then deal with themudakwho killed my father.
Grief ricochets through me. We’ve had four days to process our patriarch’s death. As a rule, we Orlovs don’t talk about feelings, but it doesn’t mean we don’t experience them. We’re all mourning in our way.Mamushkaprobably thinks she’s giving us a gift by sending us out on a distracting competition. She might even be right.
Maxim’s probably off hunting down his arranged bride as we speak.
Rion is a mama’s boy, so he’s probably been spending time withMamushkaand Lilia. His reclusive twin, Luka, has to be plotting something. My palms turn damp just thinking about it. An itch rolls along my spine.
I raise my fist to pound on the bathroom door when it opens. Sierra stares at me wide-eyed, wrapped in my bathrobe. Who knew plain white terrycloth could be even sexier than red silk? I lower my arm. “Are you almost ready?”
“Almost. Missing clothes.”
I thrust the bag with Lilia’s borrowed outfit at her. She takes them without thanks. “Five minutes.” She disappears behind the wooden barrier again. Eight minutes pass. After ten, I shout, “How long does it take to put on a dress, Sierra? We need to go.”
“I can’t wear this in public,” she says, her complaint muffled.
“Why not?”
She yanks the door open and stares at me. I suck in a breath. Seeing her is a physical blow, she’s so gorgeous. Minimal makeup, the yellow strapless dress hugging her curves, the fabric stretched tight over her breasts and fitting loosely from the waist down.
“It’s see-through, Nik. My nipples are clearly visible.”
She’s right. They are. My dick surges to uncomfortable hardness at the sight of the faint dark circles of her areolas, and my mouth goes dry. “So what?”
“It’s embarrassing,” she says mulishly. I grab her chin and snarl, “No one will be looking at your tits.” I lean in closer. “Except for me. I get to stare at them all I want. Understand?”
Sierra blinks at me. Her lips part and her eyes turn slightly glassy. I can practically see her nipples hardening in my peripheral vision. It makes me want to get her to the closest chapel and put my ring on her fingerimmediately, for reasons that have nothing to do with a power struggle for control of the Orlov empire and everything to do with wanting to get my straining cock inside her. Now.
“Let’s go.” I manacle her bicep and drag her along with me to the rear of the house into the garage where my Aston Martin is parked. “Get in.” I yank the door open and gesture to the seat. I’m a gentleman. I don’t push women around. Kidnap them, yes, when necessary. Shoving, though—my sister and my mother would have my head.
Sierra plops down, fuming, and clicks the belt across her waist, primly clutching her purse in her lap. I don’t have time to look down the front where the bodice gaps. I get into the driver’s seat and tear out of the garage into the streets.
“I cannot believe my little sister wears that in public.” She certainly doesn’t do it around the family. The four of us would make her cover up.
“I assume she’s smaller than I am,” Sierra says tartly. “This sundress is two sizes too small for me. She also presumably wears a bra, which would dampen the headlights.”
“Taller and skinnier, yeah.” I reach over and squeeze Sierra’s knee. “The only people who are going to see you will be me and the officiant. I’m sure whoever they are has seen worse. This is Las Vegas, after all.”
She smiles tightly.
“I’ll buy you clothes tomorrow,” I promise. I’m not going to lose my wife over a damn dress.
“We never discussed how long I have to stay married to you to earn the ten million dollars you promised,” she says.