Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah.”
“You knew I was Bratva, but I don’t think you understood the consequences, what that meant—” Shaking my head, I go on. “But I’m not going to blame you. I was the one who pursued you. I was the one who convinced you to spend time with me.” I look away from her. “We only have two choices, and I won’t hurt you, Ember.”
Her wide green eyes register mild surprise but nothing more.
“And the other choice?”
“Marriage. Immediately. You and me.”
She acts like I’ve just prodded her with a hot brand. She leaps off my lap as if burned. “I can’t marry you, Rodion. Are you serious right now? Marriage?”
I grab her hand and yank her back down. “Dead serious. You can, and you will because I won’t allow the alternative. But listen—” I gentle my voice. I can’t snap at her.
She shakes her head. “No. I won’t marry you. I can’t. Look at the trouble I caused today—”
I take her by the shoulders and shake her. Her hair bobs around her face as she shakes, trying to get away from me, but I hold her tight. “There are no other choices, Ember. I won’t hurt you. I won’t lose you because of this bullshit.”
I let her go as if she’s on fire. I hate the way she’s staring at me like that.
I brush a hand through my hair. “It’s temporary. We marry, show face at the Romanov gala, and this blows over. We look at it as temporary. And then, after things settle down… we go our separate ways.”
Chapter 21
EMBER
“Well, that escalated quickly.” The calm tone of my voice doesn’t match the energy of the rapid beating of my heart or the way my brain short circuits at the word marriage.
Rodion snorts. This is probably going to be our downfall, not gonna lie. Never taking things seriously enough. Honestly? That’s why we’re in this situation to begin with.
I swallow hard and try to talk, but I don’t know what to say or how to proceed.
Why does it make me fearful to hear the word “marriage” but want to cry when he follows that up with “temporary”?
I never thought I wanted to be… married.
Most especially to an actual man of the Bratva.
“Is that what you want?” I ask, my voice hoarse. “To get married on a temporary basis like we’re two drunk, horny bastards at an Elvis chapel in Vegas?”
“Of course not.” His voice is husky. I can’t tell if he’s angry or emotional or what. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I don’t care that we haven’t known each other for long. I feel alive when I’m with you. And for the first time in my whole life, I… feel like I can actually imagine a future with someone. But I can’t force you to love me.”
Could anyone? And does love have anything to do with this?
Because I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust the way my heart beats faster, imagining a life with Rodion, while at the same time, my brain is trying desperately to find a way out of this situation.
What he doesn’t know is… I’m halfway there. I have reservations, yes, but I love being around him. Marrying into that family though? I saw those ruthless men. One of them was holding a gun.
I know what Rodion is capable of, and the thought of—of spending the rest of my life with a man like Rodion makes me melt like ice on a frying pan.
“You said it’s only temporary? Until this blows over?”
My throat tightens, the reality of the situation crashing in on me.
“Yeah.” But he doesn’t meet my eyes when he says it, and I can feel the tension in his body.
Rodion doesn’t want temporary.
And I’m starting to fear that…neither do I.
“Do I have a choice?”
When his gaze snaps back to mine, my heart stutters. I see the raw, ruthless man who’s willing to burn the entire world down if it means keeping me safe.
His eyes darken with something I can’t quite name.
“No.”
I look away from him. I was the one who fell for a man I knew to be dangerous, a full-fledged man of the Bratva. I let fantasy color my judgment, and now…
There’s no turning back.
“I know I’m not a good man, Ember,” he says quietly, but there’s no softness or regret in his tone. Nothing but sheer, brutal honesty.
And isn’t that one of the things I love best about him? “I’ve ended lives and ruined others, more than you’ll ever know. I’m Bratva. I will always be Bratva. And that doesn’t change because I love you.”
I blink. My breath catches. I try to drag air into my lungs. The word hangs between us like a fallen star, brilliant and unexpected.
Love.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper, even as a part of me leans into him, leans into us, and I wonder…