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She’s pressed up against me, momentarily disarmed. I snap the cuffs on.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Renata
“You asshole!”The fucking nerve of him to kiss the hell out of me then sneakily put those damn handcuffs on me. “Why?”
“Mikhail told me to.”
“Mikhail told me to,” I mock, even though I’m well aware of how important it is that he does what Mikhail tells him to.
“Maybe I like the way you look handcuffed,” he says with a casual shrug as he fastens my seat belt like I’m a child. The glint in his eyes makes my heart leap into my throat. I swallow hard.
“That’s your grand plan? Take me back to your family home, with your mother right down the hall, and tie me to your bed?” I wrinkle my nose, pretending my cheeks aren’t flaming hot. “Is that what you do with all the girls you bring home to Mama?”
“No, baby,” he says with another characteristic smirk. “Only you.”
I want to hate him. I want to separate us, at least superficially, with a wall between us so that I don’t ever have to worry about him hurting my heart. I started falling for him—I know I did, but I can’t give my brother any more fodder.
I turn away and stare out the window, looking for any evidence at all that we’re being followed. I can’t see any.
But I know they’re there.
My arm burns from my injury. I’m tired. My eyes feel scratchy, and my mouth is dry from dehydration. I’m a mess. But that doesn’t stop my heart from soaring when I see the Romanov family home looming in front of us, as bright as a brilliant daisy underneath beaming rays of sunlight.
For one small moment, I felt like I belonged, that I was wanted and needed. I felt something like love.
The thick walls, heavily reinforced with steel, weapons, and a convoy of alpha males, make me feel more secure than I’ve felt in a long time.
My brother is brutal and ruthless, but he’s only one person. Only one.
“Ollie,” I say tentatively as the car comes to a stop.
“Yeah?”
“Do I have to talk to everyone now? I don’t want to see any of them, especially since we’re getting married.”
He looks out the window and gives me a curt nod. “I’ll get out first and make sure we have privacy.”
I feel strangely emotional as I watch him exit the car and walk straight toward the front door, his mouth already up to his phone.
I don’t know what he’s saying, but he looks serious as his lips purse, and he gets into a heated discussion. Finally, after a moment, he heads back my way, opens the door, and unlocks the handcuffs. “Coast is clear. Let’s go.”
“Can I just get some rest first?” I ask as I walk beside him. I’m on edge, expecting one of his many siblings to come find us or, at the very least, some of his younger nieces or nephews, but thankfully, we’re alone as we head inside.
“You can see a doctor first,” he says in a tone of voice that brooks no argument. “Before anything else happens. I won’t make you socialize or anything like that, but you do have to take your health seriously.”
I grumble under my breath. I don’t want to see a doctor. I’ve been to hell and back and want a warm bed and time alone to process what I’m doing next.
“Renata,” he growls under his breath.
“What?”
“I’m not going to let you fuck around with your physical health.”
“I got a scratch on my arm. It’s hardly in need of amputation. Mikhail told you to make sure I see a doctor, and God knows you can’t go against anything he tells you to do.” I don’t know why I’m being so ornery. It isn’t like me. Honestly, it isn’t.
“Is that Renata?” I hear his sister Polina’s voice in the background, but someone quickly hushes her.
