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I shrug and don’t answer. For a minute, I feel as if I do, I’m actually going to cry.
Unlike me, covered in dirt and blood, my hair askew as if I had just walked head-on through a wind tunnel, Ollie looks perfect.
He always looks perfect.
I swear to God, the Romanov men could be models, and it isnotfair. Gods among mortals. Strong genes in that family which probably has something to do with their status in The Cove. They get everything they want—King Midas with his golden touch. Everywhere they go, women fall all over themselves, trying to get them to look their way. It isn’t fair, really. Filthy richandthe picture of ancient gods?
Like a creature carved from stone, he’s unyielding and untouchable. But I’ve seen the cracks beneath the surface, the beast lurking in hiding…I want to coax him out of hiding, tame his inner monster.
I shake my head and take a look at my enemy…also known as my soon-to-be-husband.
What the hell is Isabellathinking, throwing us together like this?
My God, he’s every bit as handsome as I remembered.
His jawline, sharp enough to cut glass, is covered in rough stubble. Those green eyes that see right through every layer I’ve built to protect my heart. Others say he’s cold and merciless, and while I wouldn’t deny it—there’s more to Ollie Romanov than others think.
Ihatehow my pulse races just by looking at him, a reaction I wish I could control, but I’m only human. His presence fills every room he enters, commanding attention and respect without uttering a word. It’s infuriating how effortlessly he exudes power and dominance.
“Are you going to keep staring at me, or do you need more painkillers?” Ollie’s emotionless voice breaks through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality.
I scowl at him, trying to mask the involuntary flutter in my chest. “Oh, I’m fine,” I say sweetly. “I need nothing more from you, sir. Thank you very much.”
“Ah. Good to know you’re practicing how to respect your husband.”
I give him the middle finger… just to set him straight. His eyes spark at me, and he sobers, leaning closer. “Do thatagain, Renata, and I’ll test my theory about my fiancée and her spanking kink.”
I gape at him. “What?”
“You heard me.” Oooh, thenerve.I want to wipe that self-satisfied, smug look right off his face, to see the man beneath the mask. The man who might actually feel something more than cold, calculating detachment.
I flop back in the seat, and the small interior of the plane swirls in front of me.
“Is that turbulence?”
He snorts and raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Oh, fuck you, Ollie Romanov. I’m helpless when he smirks.
“No, I think it’s the shots. You probably shouldn’t mix alcohol and painkillers.”
Oh. Right.
Well, fuck.
I hate that he’s right. I hate that despite everything, I’m going to have to rely on him, and that makes me even more vulnerable than ever. The thought makes me want to scream and break things.
“I don’t trust you, you know,” I say. My voice is steady, but when he gives me a stern look, my heart races faster.
“You don’t have to.” He leans in closer. “It’s really very simple, Renata. All you have to do is marry me. Let me fuck you. Take my name and have my babies.” He shrugs, as if all of this is so simple—all I have to do is marry him, give him everything, and let him control the rest.
But this is more than a marriage. This is war.
“I’ll handle the rest, Renata.”
Oh, is that all?
I narrow my eyes at him but don’t give the smug prick the satisfaction of a response.
“Fine,” I snap. “But don’t think for a second I’ll let my guard down with you.” I whirl a finger in a circular motion around my face. “See this? This is all you’ll get from me.”
