Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
I nearly scream. I’m so nervous my legs are shaking.
It’s really him.
Step. No, Lev. No, my future husband. Whoever he is, he’s standing right there, shaking my father’s hand and turning toward me.
We lock eyes, and I know he knows.
For an instant, he goes very still. The charming smile falters. The mask slips for only a beat, and he looks at me with real surprise.
Something ugly and dark slips across his face.
But it’s gone a second after. He shakes hands with Luca and Daniel before Dad brings him over to introduce me.
“This is your future wife, my daughter, Carmela,” Dad says, gesturing to me.
I stand on unsteady knees. I try to meet Step’s gaze—no, damn it, his name is Lev—but I can’t manage it. Instead, I thrust a hand at him.
“Everyone calls me Carmie,” I mutter, looking at his shoes. They’re dull, like he wears them too often.
“Good to finally meet you, Carmie,” Lev says, slipping his hand into mine. His grip is firm and warm, and I can’t help but think of that palm on my ass and his fingers in my hair.
Holy shit. Holy shit. This can’t be really happening.
I’m about to vomit all over the floor.
There’s an uncomfortable beat as Lev stares at me, still grinning, the image of a dashing young man. Except we both know how supremely fucked this is.
Then the men take over. They start talking business again, and I’m forgotten for a little while, left to sit on the end of the sofa and stew in my misery. Lev hasn’t called me out yet, but he keeps throwing me looks, occasionally dark and rage-filled, but always covered by his ease and his laughter. He’s got my brother telling him stories and pouring him drinks from the bar cart in the corner, and I can already tell they’re going to rave about my future husband on the ride home. Meanwhile, Dad and Oleg are having a head-to-head near the window, both holding a glass of whiskey.
I’m forgotten. At least, I think I am. Except Lev reminds me over and over that he knows I’m there.
His gaze is like poison.
“We should give these two a few minutes alone together,” Oleg announces and gestures at my brothers and my father. “Why don’t we go visit the game room and let them talk?”
“Fine with me,” Luca says and elbows Lev like they’re already best friends. Oh my god, those two are going to be horrible together. “Just be careful, okay? We wouldn’t want any accidental babies before the wedding.”
“Luca!” I hiss at him, turning pink, but all the men find that hilarious.
Daniel squeezes my shoulder on the way out. I think that’s meant to be reassuring, but it only feels possessive, like I’m the object here getting passed on to my new owner. Dad laughs loudly at some joke Oleg makes, and my brothers follow them into the entry hall.
Lev walks casually to the door and closes it very quietly behind them.
Then we’re alone together.
My heart’s racing in my chest. I stand on the opposite side of the room from him and consciously put the coffee table and the couches between us.
“I thought your name was Step,” I say sharply, and I don’t even know why that’s the first thing out of my mouth. There are a dozen better ways to approach this, like maybe acknowledging how fucking crazy this is.
Instead, I’m pissed.
His smile fades and disappears. What’s left is cold, a black void of emotion. He looks at me like a predator.
“It seems we were both lying that night,” he says, and though he doesn’t walk closer, the way his body shifts makes me feel like he’s tensing for something.
“I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know who you were that night.”
“Are you sure about that? Adriano didn’t put you up to it?”
I glare at him, fighting back outrage. “Absolutely not. You think my cousin can order me to freaking sleep with a stranger on top of marrying him?”
He lets out a soft sound of acknowledgment. I’m frightened, terrified actually, but also strangely thrilled. I never thought I’d get anywhere near this man again in my life, and now it turns out I’m marrying him. I’m disturbed by this turn of events, but that night flashes back.
The pleasure. How good it was. His hands all over my body like he was worshipping every inch of my exposed flesh.
Like he couldn’t get enough.
It was intoxicating. And while I don’t see that same man standing in front of me—while he seems colder, more distant, even angry—maybe we can have a taste of that night one day.
“I don’t know what you’re capable of,” he says softly, and the accusation is clear. “Listen to me. That night never happened. We never met before. Do you understand?”
“You think I want people to know?”