Page 19 of Then We Shatter

“They can manage,” Vasili says gruffly, indicating the group of men behind us.

Alexei and two other bodyguards have travelled with us. After the little mishap with Vlad, I don’t doubt they consider me the most likely threat to their pakhan. They’re not wrong, but he can’t very well have his guards aiming Tasers at me here. What would darling Eric think? We’re all at a disadvantage on this godforsaken rock.

“Let me take you to your rooms. You must be tired after your long flight,” Emily says when I don’t attempt to hide my next yawn.

“That’s me. Sick and tired,” I agree.

Vasili, Alexei and I take the first cart, my uncle sitting up front with Emily. The housekeeper sets off towards Eric’s two-story villa that’s the size of a medium-sized hotel, leaving the others to trail after us with our luggage.

As we cross the lush green lawn that stretches from the cliff edge to wrap around the house, I spot a long driveway that draws my gaze to a guarded entry point. On each side of the gates are high metal fences that hold back the jungle hugging the edges of the grounds.

Why would you need gated security when you own the entire goddamn island? Who does Eric need to keep out? Unless he’s more concerned with keeping people in. One of them will be me. This isn’t paradise. It’s another prison, albeit a warmer one.

When Emily continues past the entrance to the villa, Vasili snaps his head towards her.

“Where are we going?”

“Mr. Peterson has set aside one of the guest villas for his new bride and her family,” she says, glancing back to offer me a cheesy smile. “He thought Katarina would be more comfortable there until they get to know each other.”

“Let’s hope I’m there a while,” I mutter under my breath.

I don’t want to get to know the man. Or any man. I belong to Killian, now and always, and anyone who presumes otherwise will find themselves greeting the next life prematurely, as Vlad did.

There must have been something in the mountain air the night I fell for Killian McConkey because I fell hard. I wasn’t fool enough to think it was an act of submission when he dropped to his knees and crawled to me. That fool of an Irishman did it because he was plain crazy. But by the end, so was I. What we had was never supposed to last. It was never supposed to happen in the first place. It just was. Until it wasn’t.

Tears clog my throat and as I go to swallow, I almost choke at the sight of a man rushing out of the main villa, waving at us to stop. Emily brakes quickly and we all lurch forward.

The man’s broad chest heaves as he reaches us and his toned thigh muscles ripple with tension, stretching his Bermuda shorts. His feet are bare and his soaking wet, salt and pepper hair drips onto his grey t-shirt. His jaw is a little too square, but he’s not the ogre I’d pictured Vasili pairing me with.

“My apologies,” he says, addressing Vasili and extending his arm to shake my uncle’s hand. “I was taking a shower and didn’t hear your helicopter arrive.” He gives his housekeeper a gentle look of reproach. “Next time, you have my permission to drag me out of my bathroom, Emily.”

Her smile is hesitant. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

He wafts away her apology while his gaze glides over to me. Alexei is positioned between us and for once, I’m grateful for his presence. Eric doesn’t attempt to reach over and offer a handshake or make a move to touch me at all. He nods. Almost shyly.

“Katarina,” he says, his voice like honey over oats. His South African accent is barely there, hidden like everything else about him. “It’s a pleasure.”

Vasili twists in his seat to observe our very first interaction and I tamp down all the ways I’d like to respond to my husband-to-be. I don’t snarl or hiss, nor do I completely blank him, which I often find most effective in getting the measure of an adversary. My approach needs to be different with the man I’m condemned to marry. I can’t walk away. Not while I’m trapped on this fucking island.

I mirror Eric’s greeting, giving him exactly what he gave me. I nod politely. “Eric.”

The fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepen a touch, but he smiles. “I thought it best to leave you to relax and recover this evening after your long journey. You have your own private chef at the guest villa and if there’s anything else you need, you only have to ask,” he says. “The fun starts tomorrow.”

“Fun?” I repeat in a flat tone because, I’m sorry, but do I look like a girl who likes to have fun?

“Your friend is due to arrive. She and her husband will have the villa next to yours for the duration of their stay.”

It’s another phrase I can’t compute. I don’t have friends, not ones my uncle and his associates know about. “Who?” I demand, directing the question to Vasili.

“I’m afraid Eric has spoiled my little surprise,” he replies, chuckling ominously. The only thing that ever amuses my uncle is another person’s misery. “Sasha and Grigor wouldn’t want to miss your wedding, and I can’t think of anyone better suited to be your maid of honor.”

Despite the heat, goosebumps prick my skin. I resist the urge to rub my arms and reveal how much the news unsettles me.

Vasili turns to Eric. “Katarina and Sasha did a lot of their schooling together. They’re practically sisters.”

“Only if you have the kind of sister who sets fire to your bed,” I reply. “When you’re in it.”

Eric laughs, thinking it’s a joke. “We’ll be sure to lock away the matches.”