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Ten minutes later, I’m parked in front of my house with a sleeping Cora in the passenger seat.
“I have no clue what to do with you,” I mutter.
Fake or not, I must be out of my fucking mind to think this was the best course of action. I don’t know how to be married. I don’twantto be married.
Yet…
I look over at Cora—my fake wife. Her dark hair is painted mahogany in the light streaming through the window, her pale skin dappled in mid-morning sun. Being with her feels more right than it should. Especially since I still don’t know why she was at my party or in my office.
She looks so vulnerable. The disdain she’s worn since she learned my name is gone in sleep. She looks younger. Innocent.
But no matter whether Cora is innocent in all of this or not, killing the sniper with a single bullet is a mercy I won’t extend to whoever is responsible for putting a hit out on her.
When I catch who’s hunting her, I’ll make him fuckingsuffer.
The garage door opens and Niles appears. He stops on the three steps down to the garage, eyeing me in the driver’s seat and the unfamiliar form asleep against the window.
As the Pushkin estate manager, he’s good at anticipating my needs. He’s been working with our family for generations. How many exactly, no one knows. But his pale, gaunt face has a haunted quality that can take some getting used to.
When I step out of the car, he waves. “I didn’t know you’d be returning with company, sir. Would you like the usual guest suite made up?”
Niles knows exactly how to make my female guests feel welcome. Clean linens, fresh bouquets, and a complimentary bottle of champagne on ice when I show them to their temporary room.
Cora would see right through a ploy like that.
I can imagine her sneering as she took in the neutral decorations and lack of personal touch.“How many women have you taken to this bed?”she would ask.
“No, actually. I want the second master suite prepared.”
Niles is speechless for a long moment until he clears his throat. “Of course. Whatever you need, sir.” He moves towards the passenger side door. “I can call one of the guards to carry her—”
“No.” The word tears out of me before I can stop it. “I don’t want anyone to lay a fucking finger on her, understood? No one touches my woman but me.”
Niles blinks again. It’s the only sign of his shock. Then he bows his head. “I’ll strip the bed and remake it myself. It will be ready by the time you get her inside.”
Without another word, he turns and hurries into the house.
I don’t enjoy stressing him out. He does good work and I appreciate his loyalty. But if people are going to buy that Ivan Pushkin is getting married, I have to sell it. To everyone.
Myself most of all.
Cora has shifted slightly, her temple resting against the crossbar between the doors. I’m able to pull her door open without any trouble and slide her out of her seat.
It’s only when I scoop her into my arms that I realize the mistake I’ve made.
She’s too close. I can feel the soft curve of her hip against my stomach. Each inhale draws between her lips like a whisper. Long lashes flutter against her cheeks and her strawberry scent radiates.
I remind myself of the facts. Cora and I are pretending. I looked her in her face and told her she meant nothing to me.Bait. An empty vessel.
I need to remember that.
Grimacing, I carry Cora inside the house and up the stairs. I pass by the office where I met her and the image of her standing in front of me perfectly naked rises to the forefront of my mind.
Fucking hell. This might be harder than I thought.
I pass by my bedroom and walk to the room next door. I push it open and find Niles adjusting the comforter.
He hears me coming and pulls the blankets down to make space for her. “I’m going to bring up fresh towels and toiletries. I assume the rest of her belongings are in the trunk?”
