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“So, I have to—have sex with you?” she whispers. “Or you’ll cheat on me.”
“I won’t rape you, but I won’t deprive myself of a woman. If my wife refuses to be that woman, there are plenty of other willing women.”
Right now, I think she really hates me. Can’t say it’s what I’m going for, but…
“But I can’t have another man?”
I’ve never been one for slaughter. But those words from her lips—the idea of another man taking what is already mine—yes, I could slaughter.
Coolly, I growl, “I won’t be the one depriving my wife. If you want to fuck, you come to me. Only me.”
“What if I want more than that?”
I raise a brow. For a woman who couldn’t seem to find her tongue for months, she’s quite the little negotiator.
“What more is there?”
She looks crestfallen by my question. Suddenly, I want to pry this hidden truth from the secret depths of her. Instead, I wait patiently for her answer.
I’m disappointed when she murmurs softly, “Nothing. Clearly, there is, and never will be, anything more.” Softer, far quieter, on a breath that is only faintly audible, she says, “I’m a fool.”
I study her for a long moment. I’ll have all the time in the world once she is officially mine, to strip her of all her secrets. To pull her innermost desires from the depths of their hidden prisons. To expose her most private fantasies. To craft wonder from the raw diamond of her innocence, watching as she transforms and sparkles.
“Do we have a deal?”
“How romantic.” She sighs. “I marry you, and you keep me safe from—” She can’t say it. I don’t blame her. She mutters to herself, “The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know.” Her downcast eyes lift again to mine. “I’ll marry you. Because I don’t have a choice, otherwise.”
She just had to hammer home that dig. “There’s always a choice.”
“Either way, I am to be made a whore. I would rather be one man’s whore.”
You won’t be a whore at all, Little Princess. But you will be mine.
“Right. As I said, onto business.” I push back from the chair and move to the door of my office, where Dimitri has brought the priest. I can feel her eyes on me as I move, and grin as I pull open the door to find the man waiting.
A fine sheen of sweat lines his forehead where his graying hair sits. He’s more than aware of the family I come from, and the sins we commit. Having Dimitri stand sentry, towering over him for as long as I’ve been inside my office with Ruby probably didn’t help to settle his nerves. It’s no matter, this should be quick.
I already have the papers drawn. “Father, come in.”
Ruby stands quickly, her wide eyes set with panic. Her mouth opens and closes, but no sound escapes. Her knotted hands twist at her belly as anxiety soars.
I cross the space between us to slide my arm around the small of her waist, tugging her into my side. I introduce her, “This is Ruby Belle, my soon to be wife.”
Eight
Ruby
I am officially married. The ceremony, if one could call it that, had been quick. My devil had, to my surprise, sealed the deal with a kiss to my forehead and a murmur to ‘do it properly later’ while the priest had dripped sweat and fear, not daring to say a single word about the way my new husband had ‘kissed his bride’.
Now, the rings sparkle on my finger as I perch, my spine straight, in one of the two window nooks in my plush prison. It seems I’m done living like a rat in the cellar. I can’t say I’m disappointed.
My eyes shift from the massive diamond that is shaped like a teardrop—fitting—that cuts into the diamond encrusted band of my wedding ring, to the view outside. It’s snowing. Again.
It’s been my suspicion more than once that I’m no longer in America, what with all the Russian accents I’ve encountered. But I don’t know how that would be. It’s not like someone can kidnap someone and toss them into baggage claim to be transported to a wholly different country, right?
Maybe Kirill—I’m happy to finally know his name—just employs a lot of Russian people.
It’s a question for, hopefully, another day.
