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"We're going out to breakfast. I want to test something," he says.
I'm usually more confident than I feel right now, but my nerves are on edge. I'm not sure if it's because I'm about to have breakfast with a family that thinks I betrayed them or because I'm afraid my brother is going to find me. And if Carlos comes for me? For us? He’s chaos and has no mercy.
I release a ragged breath.
We arrive at a restaurant near the beach, and Ollie takes us immediately to the back, where there's a private room behind glass doors. My stomach leaps into my throat when I see that everyone is there before us—Mikhail and Aria, his other brother Aleksandr and his wife Harper, all of the brothers and theirwives, and even some of the children. My God. I don't know what I'm going to do next. I must look like a deer caught in headlights because before we enter, Ollie leans in and captures my gaze. "Nothing matters except that you are mine," he tells me. "It doesn't matter what you did, it doesn't matter who you were. You'll be taking vows to me. You'll be my wife. You might think you don’t belong, but you do. Right here. With me.”
His vote of confidence does, in fact, give me a small measure of relief. I swallow and nod. "Yeah, of course," I tell him. "Are you going to tell me what you're testing?"
"You're a smart girl. What do you think?"
I frown. "Whether or not my brother found me.” A sudden realization dawns on me. “Why I have this cut on my arm that’s still hurting.”
Oh God. What did my brother do?
"Precisely." He leans in and kisses my cheek, but he's only trying to get to my ear so he can whisper to me. "You can keep whatever's in your arm until tomorrow because I want whoever’s watching to see everything. Then, on our wedding night, I'm taking that out of there, and we're escaping where nobody knows where we are. Do you understand me?"
Does he think there’s a tracker in my arm?
My heart thunders in my chest. How exactly does he plan on taking it out of me? And where exactly is he going to take me?
I nod and swallow hard. "I understand."
"Good," he says with a smirk. "Go to the ladies' room and wait for me there."
What the actual fuck is he planning on doing? "Excuse me?"
He smiles, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You heard me, wife. You've been around my family long enough to know what I expect of you, haven’t you?" He leans in and captures my gaze with his.
"Is that right, sir?" I ask him, fire in my eyes. He excites me and infuriates me. “Do you do everything your family tells you? Or is that just for me?"
He cups my jaw in his large, warm palm, and his eyes hold mine. "I'm an old-fashioned man, Renata. My wife does what she's told. You know what it means if you don't."
The vision of him overpowering me, my wrists trapped in his, my eyes locked in his, makes my pulse race. I swallow and nod.
"I do."
The tension between us has shifted again, palpable and electric. His protective instincts have always been intense, but now, there's something in his eyes that makes my heart race with fear, excitement, and anticipation. A shiver runs down my spine when his hand comes to my back.
"What are you going to do?" I ask, my voice a whisper.
"Trust me," he replies, his eyes dark with a mix of desire and determination. "Now go."
I nod, my pulse racing as I move toward the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I stand in front of the mirror, my breath shallow. He enters behind me, carrying something in his hand.
I look down. It's a silk blindfold. "Ollie.Here?"
Obviouslyhere.
"Turn around," his voice a command that leaves no room for disobedience. My hands trembling, I face the mirror. I watch his reflection as he stretches the silk between his fingers. He steps behind me, his body pressed against mine as he ties it over my eyes. I'm immediately plunged into darkness, acutely aware of his heat behind me, his breath on my cheek. The faint scent of lavender and vanilla fills the air. Somewhere in the distance, I hear laughter and the sound of running water. "Can you see anything?" he asks, his breath in my ear.
"No," I whisper, heightened senses taking over.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his hands sliding down my arms.
My pulse races, my grip on the cold sink the only thing keeping me from falling completely under his control.
"Hold still," he whispers. "Don't you dare disobey me. Not here. Not now."
