Things with Mikhail keep progressing.
I’m in way over my head and I have no idea how I’m meant to save myself from the mess I’ve created. What Mikhail and I have is flawed, but it’s perfect in its own way. I watch it all pass by me with regret in the back of my mind because I know I hold the detonator to the bomb that’ll destroy him.
It’s a constant game of push and pull—that’s what makes this harder and easier at the same time. Everything contradicts everything at this point. It’s moments like last night that make me believe things could look up—but what are the odds of that happening?
Slim to none.
Mikhail left early this morning and hasn’t come back since. Once he feels something, he avoids me. It doesn’t feel great.
Many of the reservations I feel toward him wash away when I remember how he was with his family. I’ve never seen him look so happy; so overwhelmed with joy. I could see his eyes glimmer when he looked at Alyna.
He didn’t hold back; he allowed his emotions to consume him without regret. His dimples showed again . . . That smile that could ruin me was shown over and over again. Every time I close my eyes I see him. He almost looked at peace.
If family is what makes him happy, why doesn’t he keep them close?
Speaking with Anya felt like a fever dream. She reiterated everything to me, but it still felt unreal to know I’m not alone in this plan.
While it might not be happening the way it was supposed to, I have to make it work. Everything Anya told me last night made sense, but it doesn’t make me like my situation any more.
A musical chime echoes through the entire house, and I open the door quickly.
A middle-aged man looks down at me with wide eyes. “Uh . . . are you Sloane?”
I’m hesitant to tell him who I am because I have no idea what Mikhail’s up to. “Yes,” I say, choosing to answer anyway because curiosity always gets the better of me.
He hands me a bouquet of red roses and a box. “These are for you.”
I take the roses and hold them in my arm as he hands me the box. I look at the man. “Who are these from?” I ask.
“There’s a note attached. I’m just a delivery boy.”
I can’t help but laugh. He doesn’t look like a delivery boy. He’s in a suit and tie, just like the rest of Mikhail’s men.
I slam the door in his face and turn toward the kitchen. Putting the roses down on the granite counter, I take the ribbon off the matte-black box.
A card sits on top of a white satin dress.
324 Parkway, 8 p.m. Wear this and put your hair up. Dimitri will drive you.
—M
I throw the card down on the counter and hold up the dress. Much as I don’t want to admit it, it’s beautiful.
Draping the dress over my shoulders, I lean my weight into the counter. It takes me a moment to realize I’m laughing uncontrollably now. I feel crazy in a way. What the hell is even happening? This has to be some kind of culture shock. Why am I doing everything a man says and acting at his beck and call?
A couple of hours later, Dimitri arrives to pick me up just like Mikhail said he would at eight on the dot. He opens the passenger door for me, and I get in the car. I glare at him as he closes the door and gets in on the other side.
Dimitri starts the engine and shifts the car into drive. “You look nice, Sloane,” he says.
My head turns toward him. “Thank you,” I tell him.
“So . . . Mikhail told you to . . . you know, to wear your hair up.” He stumbles on his words, and a small smile forms in the corner of his lips.
I glare at him. “I don’t have to do everything he tells me to do.”
He shifts in his seat and clears his throat. “I see why he likes you.”
“That’s what you call it?”
“That’s exactly what I call it. I’ve never seen him act this way before.”
I scoff. “You say that as if it’s a compliment.”
“It should be.”
I ignore him. My mind is already mush right now—I don’t need to think about this situation any more. The more I think about it, the more confused I get, which doesn’t even seem possible.
Eventually, we pull up to the side of the road. A man opens my door instantly, and I step out. Orange lights beam through the black-tinted windows of the skyscraper.
I walk toward the entrance, but I stop in my tracks once my eyes find Mikhail. He stands there in a black suit with a white shirt underneath. He looks so handsome in anything he’s wearing, but especially this. I shake my head as I walk up to him. He watches me through his brows as his fingers adjust the cufflinks on his suit jacket.
“Your hair is down,” he says.
I cross my arms over my chest and smile at him. His note asked—no, told—me to wear my hair up, so I did the opposite. “It is,” I say.
“Good,” he admits with a smile as his arm reaches around the small of my back. “I knew you’d do the opposite of what I said.”
“What—?” I begin, but I’m interrupted by him.
“Let’s get a drink.”
I walk with him inside and head toward a bar in the corner of the room. There aren’t many people in here. Those walking in through the main doors all make their way to the elevator.
Mikhail pulls out a bar stool for me, and I take it reluctantly.
“What am I doing here?” I ask.
He orders a drink before directing his attention back to me. Then he reaches into his suit jacket pocket and pulls out a velvet box. “You’re my wife for tonight,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling it toward him.
He attempts to put a ring on my finger. I try to pull away, and he just smiles.
“I am not.”
“Tell you what, Sloane, you’ve got a few more months with me, give or take. Do this for me, and I might let you go for good behavior.”
“For good behavior?” I mock him. “Why should I believe you’d ever let me go after you threatened me?”
“I can’t tell you what to believe, Koldunya. It’s up to you how you act tonight.”
I make a face at him. Why the fuck is he gaslighting me right now? I bite down on my cheek to hide my emotion.
“Why are you treating me like this?” I ask.
“Like what? Like how you treat me?” His jaw hardens.
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I don’t even know how to take that comment.
“Yeah, I thought so,” he mutters.
“No, you don’t get to do that,” I say, my heel digging into the concrete floor. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
“You left me, Sloane. When I thought I could trust you.” He sips on his drink, gripping the glass with force.
I’m at a loss for words. It feels like my brain is stuttering while I look at the man in front of me. How is this the same person? Was his anger delayed for an entire fucking day? I thought he and I sorted this out. Nothing makes sense.
I left his place with the intention of coming back because I wanted to. I mean, I didn’t want to be trapped, but I wanted a little longer with Mikhail to see what kind of person he truly is. I was gone for only a couple of hours, and now he’s acting as if I committed a serious crime.
“If I do this for you, you’ll think about letting me go?” I ask before I’m even able to process exactly what I said. The more thought I give it, leaving Mikhail doesn’t sound like something I want. I think . . . I think I like being with him. Of course, not at times like this, but the good times with Mikhail make me feel as if I’m weightless. There’s constant adventure when he’s near, and I enjoy both the yacht and the house. If I were to leave him, Dad would keep me locked up.
I love my family, but I need to learn to put myself first.
“I’ll think about it,” he says.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I say, contradicting my thoughts. “But why do I need to act as your wife?”
“I want this investment. Investors like to see commitment.” He nods and places the glass on the bar top. “Ready, wife?” he asks, reaching out his hand toward mine.
“You say jump, I say where, right?” I say, annoyed with him.
He presses his lips together. “Something like that.” Then he takes my hand and places the ring on my finger.
I look at the ring and try not to overthink everything.
Mikhail’s hand rests on my lower back as we make our way to the elevator and ride to the top floor of the skyscraper. He’s standing behind me, not letting go of my body. His possessiveness knows no bounds, especially not tonight.
I focus on my breathing, trying to get it under control. I’ve been nervous about tonight ever since the dress was delivered. I know a lot is riding on how I present myself. If I do a good job at his game, I could leave.
Tonight, I am Sloane Stepanov.
The name sounds beyond foreign to me.
It’s taken me a while to understand my frustration. It has nothing to do with being trapped or kidnapped. It’s because I felt as if I was finally understanding who Mikhail is, but now I don’t know. I started to put my heart somewhere it had no business being. Mikhail is all about his game. His charisma is sky-fucking-high. He knows how to say things, and he knows the perfect times to say them. When things between us start to sink, he finds an escape route. It’s admirable, really.
The elevator doors open slowly. I fiddle with the ring on my finger as we head down an open hallway toward a room where music is playing. “Feeling Good” by Michael Bublé trickles out through the surround sound. Mikhail looks down at me and smiles.
I smile back—not because I want to, but because I’m keeping my end of his bargain.
Everything about this building screams money. The artwork on the walls looks as if it came right from a museum. The ceiling looks two stories high. Glancing around, I see too many people to count. They’re all dressed in elegant dresses and ironed suits.
We head to the bar in the center of the room. Bottles are stacked on shelves with bright lights behind them. Mikhail’s hands rest on my shoulders. He moves my hair to the side and brings his mouth to my ear.
“You look like a goddess.”
His deep, angsty voice sends chills down my spine. It doesn’t mean anything. He doesn’t mean it. He’s just fucking with your head.
“Gin and Dubbonet, please. My wife will take a glass of champagne.”
I could roll my eyes at what he orders for me. I would’ve loved a Dirty Martini, but I’ll take whatever liquid confidence I can get.
“Mikhail?” a feminine voice calls out.
“Emily, it’s so good to see you.” Mikhail turns as the woman approaches us.
She kisses his cheek, and that pisses me off.
Emily. Slim figure, wearing a dress that looks absolutely amazing on her. She seems nice.
“I don’t think you’ve met my wife before—Sloane.” He grabs my hand, and I step down from the stool.
“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you—Emily, is it?” I reach out my hand, but she doesn’t shake it.
“Wife? Mr. Stepanov, you lead a very private life. I had no idea you were married.”
I was wrong. She’s not nice. She’s completely ignoring me.
“A beauty such as hers doesn’t deserve to be hidden, Mikhail.”
Jesus Christ, I am so bad at reading people. I’m in such a foul mood right now I can only focus on the negatives. That’s not who I am. That’s Mikhail getting to my head.
“Sloane.” She leans in toward me and hugs me quickly “I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you as well. Are you two bidding tonight?”
Mikhail smiles. “Yes. I intend to walk as the highest bidder.”
“Good for you. I know you’d do great things for my husband’s company.”
Holy fuck. Okay, new plan. Act as if I’m not mad at him, or else my attitude will ruin all chances of him getting the investors to work with him. I roll my shoulders back in a weak attempt to relax. “Mikhail has great plans.” I smile and grab onto his arm.
“I’m sure he does. We’ve kept up with the news on his renovations for West 90, and I have to admit, they’re genius.”
“Thank you, Emily. Your words don’t go unnoticed.”
“Of course. Do talk with Eric later. He won’t shut up about how fine your ideas are, but don’t let him talk your ear off!” She laughs as she leans in to kiss Mikhail on the cheek again.
She’s so proper. I haven’t had such a formal conversation in so long, possibly ever. She struts away, and Mikhail turns toward me, grabbing his drink off the counter. I discard mine because I don’t want to be even the slightest bit drunk. If I’m talking to people like this, I need every brain cell I have.
“You did good. Just keep that up for the rest of the night.” He brings the glass to his lips and takes a sip while the sides of his fingers brush against my cheek softly. “And don’t lose this smile.” He lifts my chin up with his thumb and brings his mouth to mine. A kiss that reminds me too much of how I felt before everything went to shit. “I’m going to greet a couple of people—would you like to come?”
I shake my head. “Maybe in a bit. I’m going to explore for a little while.”
“Okay.” He smiles and walks off.
I sigh as I walk in the opposite direction. Toward the back of the room, windows cover the entire wall. I exchange a couple of smiles as I make my way through the doors that lead to a large balcony. Dark ivy leaves wrap around the oak wood pergola covering the platform. Sleek electric fireplaces in the middle are surrounded by chairs that like look like clouds. I walk up to the edge of the balcony and look down. I’m so high up I can barely make out the cars on the roads below. How do they even make buildings this tall?
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a soft, tender voice asks, leaning against the railing like me.
The woman’s hair is dark and silky. Her pregnant belly curves out of her figure-fitting dress.
“It’s kind of terrifying.” I laugh.
“Right? It’s so far down. Sometimes I wonder how they even build things like this.”
“I was just thinking the same thing!”
“I’m Nina.” She extends her arm to offer me her hand.
I grab onto it and shake it gently. “Sloane.”
Her face drops. “Sloane?”
Have I met her before? Does she know my father?
She clears her throat. “I’m sorry, that’s a really beautiful name. How do you spell it?”
I spell my name for her, and her face lights up.
“I hope you don’t think this is weird, but I’m going to write that down in my phone so I don’t forget it.”
I furrow my brow.
“I’m having a girl, sorry. Oh my gosh, I’m being so invasive right now, aren’t I?”
I laugh. “No, no, you’re fine. I’m glad you like the name.” I don’t mean to watch her so intently, but I can’t help but notice she’s texting it to someone instead of writing in the notes app. I guess she’s probably telling her husband about the name.
“So . . . are you bidding tonight, or are you just here to support?”
“My husband is bidding—I just came along with him.”
“Oh, mine is bidding as well. Who’s your husband?”
“Mikhail.”
“Mikhail Stepanov?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t think he’d be here tonight.”
“You know him?”
“Only by reputation,” she says, taking her eyes off me. “His name has been everywhere.”
“He’s been expanding quite a bit.” I smile.
A tall man walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her belly.
Turning to look up at the man, she smiles brightly. She turns back to me. “This is my husband.”
He looks at me in a strange way. It’s a look I can’t figure out. “Sloane.” He smiles. “My name is Ace.”
“Ace? Like the card?” I half-smile.
“Exactly like the card.”
My stance shifts when I notice an embroidered spade on his shirt. I force my eyes to look away. The Suits? This is what Max was telling me about. I don’t think he’s a good man. Max told me it was a good thing I didn’t know the meaning behind the symbols.
Fuck. I should have asked him more questions while I had the chance.
“There you are.” Lev grabs onto my wrist, trying to pull me away from Nina and Ace. I didn’t know Mikhail’s men would be here tonight, but I’m not shocked. They’ve been by his side the entire time.
I don’t fight Lev because I know there’s a reason he’s pulling me away. Nina wasn’t writing my name down because she liked it; she was texting it to Ace. That’s the only thing that makes sense. Lev exchanges death glares with Ace, his jaw tightening as he guides me to the opposite side of the patio.
“Warm up—you look freezing.” Lev gestures to the couch.
I take a seat and warm my hands by the fire. It’s cold at the top of this building. The wind is strong. “When I was younger, I used to toast marshmallows, but I always burned them.”
He nods with a chuckle. “You’re deflecting. What’s wrong?”
Wow. I really do wear my heart on my sleeve.
“Who was that man?” I ask.
He takes a seat next to me. “That’s the man who plans on walking away with the investors. Mikhail’s competition.”
I’m talking to people who are all sorts of wrong tonight. “That makes sense,” I admit.
“What do you mean?”
“He was just looking at me funny. And then when I introduced myself to his wife, she got really weird when she heard my name. Do you think she would have tried to trap me into giving her information about Mikhail?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe. They both need this property.”
“But Mikhail will get it, right? He has more money than Ace.”
“Ace?”
“Yeah.” I ponder. “That man?”
“He told you his name is Ace?” Lev’s eyebrows pinch together, creating creases on his forehead.
“Yeah?”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t only come down to who has more money. It’s about trust. It’s about who will run the franchise more effectively.”
Thank God I didn’t drink. It would have only made this night more intense.
