Avrora
The overhead lights come on as we walk into Anatoli’s office.
I take in the antique-looking furniture made of black walnut wood and the glass-paned bookcase to the left that takes up the entire wall.
The desk in the center commands most of the space, and rows of shelves filled with books line the wall behind the padded leather chair.
This office doesn’t seem to suit Anatoli. It would be more fitting to someone older. Like Leif. Or Jules Verne, judging from the volumes of classic literature on the shelf about adventures to the center of the earth, the moon, and the sea. There’s also an ancient-looking pair of golden binoculars sitting on a tripod by the window.
It’s all interesting, but I can see that I would have been quite disappointed if I’d succeeded in breaking in.
Anatoli places his hand to the small of my back. The contact twists my stomach into more knots, and I wonder what the hell I’m going to do.
This is bad. Very bad. I don’t know what to expect or what more to say to get myself out of trouble.
Before, all I did to piss him off was to exist as Uther Galitze’s daughter. Now I’ve really given him a reason to do something to me. Something he said he’s going to enjoy.
Didn’t he threaten to spank me only yesterday?
And the look on his face as he said it was like he was talking about eating some delicious meal. He seems to be one of those men who get off on things like that.
Shit. Why didn’t I just stay in the room? I could have just taken a bath or tried to sleep, either option would have been better than this.
Anatoli shepherds me to the desk and lowers to sit on the edge, setting me in front of him.
When he looks at me, I feel like a child who’s just been dragged into the principal’s office.
“How about you start by telling me what you were hoping to find?” His eyes brighten with malice, and his handsome face contorts into a devilish smile.
What do I tell him now?
The truth about the crest?
Given the fact that I think the bad memories are linked to my father, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
“I was just looking around.”
“And the locked door tempted you to find a way to get in?” He quirks a hard brow.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like? Did you think you might find a gun in here?”
“No,” I answer quickly, but he looks like he doesn’t believe me. I guess, though, when you factor in my circumstances, me looking for a gun is the logical thought process.
“No?” His gaze drops to my breasts, lingers there long enough to make me blush from deep within, then flicks back up to meet mine. “So, maybe you thought you’d find answers in here. Answers to my secrets. If so, how furious do you think I am right now?”
I glare back at him, suddenly remembering it’s me who’s supposed to be furious. Today I went from feeling like I was less than microscopic when his bitch girlfriend informed me of my place in the grand scheme of things, to feeling like a two-dollar hooker you needed to check for every disease under the sun.
“Why would I need to sneak around for answers to your secrets when I’m sure Gytha would tell me?” I steel my spine. Even if I have no power, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t stand up for myself.
“Gytha?” His brows knit and the sexual haze fades from his eyes.
“Your girlfriend, Gytha.”
“Men like me don’t have girlfriends.”
I know what he means, so I have a good comeback for the asshole. “They certainly don’t have wives either.”
That makes him smile. “Sometimes they do.”
“Not in the normal sense. Please don’t tell me you think anyone would want to marry you.”
He laughs and it sounds different than the scarier ones he’s given me so far. This is a real laugh. And even though he’s laughing at me-because what I said is completely ridiculous because hello, he’s gorgeous-the sound seeps into me and I wonder what he’s like when he’s not evil.
Who is he when he’s not the villain who thinks it’s okay to steal a woman who was about to take her wedding vows?
“What did she say to you?” he asks, still smiling but with a hint of seriousness in his tone.
“I’m sure you can imagine given the circumstances. I’m here as some pawn you’re marrying, and clearly, you’re involved with her.”
“Tell me what she said.”
It hasn’t escaped me that he didn’t deny being involved with her. I don’t care. None of it means anything to me because I shouldn’t even be here.
“She said she was the queen of the castle and I shouldn’t disturb the two of you when you’re together.” There’s more I could say, but that’s enough.
The narrowed look he gives me suggests he’s not entirely happy to hear what Gytha said.
“It makes sense that she’s the queen, since I don’t think you would have sent her to some whacked-up creep to have her probed like an animal.” I had to find a way to say something about the doctor.
“Doctor Marchant comes highly recommended.”
“I couldn’t care less if God himself recommended him. The man is a dirty creep who touched me inappropriately. That was your fault. I’m not some slut who sleeps around.”
His jaw clenches like he’s furious but all he says is, “what did you say to Gytha?”
I hate when he skillfully evades a conversation. “Aren’t we talking about the doctor?”
“No, you’re talking about the doctor, and I’m done. Now I want to know what you said to Gytha.”
I smirk at his abrasiveness. “Nothing. What was I supposed to say?” Because I’m stalling and don’t want to get myself in more trouble, I hold back on telling him he’s not Mikhail. If he were, I would have told Gytha to go to hell because she’s obviously deluded. If we were talking about Mikhail here, there would be no Gytha.
I know Mikhail was with other women, but he was mine the moment he put his ring on my finger.