Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
From Seamus.
And his huge dick.
God damn it.
I take a long, leisurely shower, hoping he’ll be gone when I’m done. Instead, I find him sitting in my living room, still shirtless, but mercifully with his rumpled suit pants on.
“You’re still here?”
“I know, what a treat.” He grins at me, raising up his mug. “Good coffee.”
“Seriously, Seamus, what is this? You can see that I’m safe. No reason to hang around. Don’t you have work or something?”
“You’re my work today.” He’s smirking, eyes sparkling. Clearly, the asshole enjoys riling me up.
I don’t give him the pleasure. I keep myself as calm as I can. “Then maybe we should discuss our future together.”
Nothing like logistics and relationship discussions to make a guy like Seamus run away.
“Great idea.” He leans back in his chair, putting one muscular arm behind his head. I swear he’s flexing. The bastard. “I want you to move in with me.”
I grimace and turn to the sink, pretending to focus on cleaning the wine glasses from last night. I knew this was going to happen, but I hoped I’d have more time to acclimate to him first.
But it seems that the murder at the wedding is accelerating things.
“Maybe we should slow down.”
“What happened to talking about our future?”
He’s having too much fun right now.
It really annoys me.
“Why move in together?” I try to pretend like this doesn’t bother me. “And if anything, you should move in here.”
“My place is secure.”
“And so is my apartment. I have a great location, two floors, a beautiful balcony—”
“I’m located closer to my family’s power base.”
“Same goes for me. Plus, my place is just—” I gesture all around. “Why would I give it up?”
He leans forward, frowning now. I can tell he doesn’t like my answer. “I didn’t say you had to sell it. But we’re married, and married couples live together.”
“Is that some kind of law of the universe or something?” I dry the wine glasses and put them away. “We could have some kind of modern arrangement. You know, two days there, five days here.”
“Not interested.”
“You don’t get to unilaterally make that call.”
“Someone got murdered at our wedding. Remember that? Everyone seems to think it was a coincidence, but I have a bad feeling. We’re living together, princess.”
A cold chill runs down my spine. I turn away and look out the window.
Could he be right? Could that killing actually have had something to do with our wedding?
There’s no way to say for sure. He’s guessing as much as anyone else.
“Is this some kind of macho thing? You can’t stand the idea of your wife having her own life?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t give a damn what you do.”
“Then I’ll stay here.”
“You’ll move in with me.” He rises slowly. “Because the truth is you’re my responsibility.”
“I’m not some dog you have to look after.”
“No, you’re the daughter of a powerful Bratva boss, and you’re my wife.” He rubs his face and blows out a breath. “You’re going to make every single decision I make difficult, aren’t you?”
“If they don’t involve me, absolutely.”
“Come visit my house. If you hate it, we’ll talk about some other arrangement.” He scowls at that last word.
“Fine. But no matter what we do, I’m keeping my apartment.”
He turns away with a casual shrug. “Whatever keeps my beautiful wife happy.”
I know it shouldn’t matter, but this is my place. It’s the first space that ever really felt like a home. Even back when I was younger and living with my father in the Morozov family mansion, it never felt like I really belonged. I was always an afterthought. Always in the way. I learned how to survive in that place and accepted my role in this world. I learned how to be a good girl and how to follow the rules.
But it was here that I started to learn about who I really am and who I want to be.
It’s hard to give that up.
Plus, some deep, dark part of my heart still clings on to the tiny, improbable hope that I won’t stay married to Seamus forever.
I know that’s messed up, but I never wanted this relationship.
And if it ends, I’ll need somewhere to go.
This apartment is my escape hatch.
Seamus might not like that—but he’ll learn to live with it.
Now I just need to convince him to wear a shirt at all times, and I’ll be in good shape.
Chapter 11
Alina
Istraighten a row of organic cotton sweaters hand-knit by artisans living in some tiny fishing village at the edge of Ireland. Beneath them are boots made by a bunch of hiking-obsessed hippies out of Oregon. I clean up the box of handcrafted sterling silver jewelry from Australia and run my hands over a stack of luxurious merino wool leggings.
“You look like you’re petting that stuff,” Kira calls from the register. She’s meticulously folding some new shirts we got in that are dyed in these incredible new washed styles from India. “Seriously, I think you love this stuff more than you love me.”