Page 148 of Marrying the Savage

Something crosses her face. “Don’t you?”

“No.” The word comes out harder than I intend.

She blinks.

I step closer. “No.”

Her throat moves. For once, she doesn’t have an answer immediately.

Good.

Then she looks away, and I realize I have won the wrong part of the argument.

“Fine,” she says, voice quieter. “Then let me stop seeing her every time I look in the mirror.”

I exhale slowly.

I should still refuse. There are reasons. Too many. The attack on the warehouse. Dmitri’s humiliation. Sergei’s silence. The dead mercenaries with weapons and no marks. The old routes Mikhail is pulling from files. The fact that Sofia’s name is now tied to mine, which makes her valuable to anyone who wants leverage and stupid to anyone who wants revenge.

“You will not go alone,” I say.

Her eyes come back to mine. Careful now. “I assumed.”

“You will go where I choose.”

“Then I’ll come back with three black coats and a personality disorder.”

“You will go where it’s secure.”

“Will the mall make it?” she asks, a brow raised.

“There will be guards inside and outside,” I continue. “No public street. No wandering. No calls. No slipping into restrooms alone.”

Her eyebrows lift. “You have thought a lot about women’s restrooms.”

“I have thought a lot about exits.”

“I’m sure that makes it sound less creepy in your head.”

“Sofia.”

She raises one hand. “Fine.”

“And you will take Marina.”

That seems to surprise her. “Marina?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you would assign one of your terrifying men to tell me I look acceptable in beige.”

“I would rather not shoot one of my men for looking too long while you try on dresses.”

Her cheeks flush before she can stop them.

Pleasure moves through me. Small. Undignified. I let it.

“You are ridiculous,” she mutters.