“Is that you, Tomas?” Eliott’s voice, prettied up in his thick French accent, comes from the master suite’s bathroom.
“It is.” I kick my shoes off at the entrance, marveling at the way the housecleaners have prepared this place. There’s a decided feminine touch that wasn’t there before with flowers and even dainty throw pillows in my living room.
I like it.
It feels good to be home, and I feel a bit of the tension leaving me as I walk across the thick carpet toward the bedroom. I can pick out Caroline’s voice talking to Eliott’s team. I’ve only known her for a short time but already know the sweet but certain lilt. She’s speaking in hushed tones, though, so I can’t make out the words.
“We are not ready yet, sir!” Eliott says. “Out!”
But no one tells me to leave my own room. I open the door and enter.
Eliott sighs. “Of course he doesn’t listen to me.” I give him a warning look, but soon get distracted by the sight in front of me. “I told you she’s not ready yet!” Eliott says, lifting his hands to shield her from me. “If you’d only give me a few minutes—”
“Put your hands down.”
Eliott isn’t Bratva but knows to obey. With a mournful sigh, he obeys and steps to the side. Caroline turns to me.
I can’t help but stare unabashedly at the woman who sits in front of me. Gone are the cumbersome glasses, nothing shielding me now from her wide, beautiful eyes accented with thick lashes and arched brows. I don’t even notice her scar I’m so enamored with everything else about her.
Her freckled complexion looks somehow softer, smoother, and though the freckles are still there, her face looks radiant. She glows, her cheeks faintly flushed, her delicate creamy skin begging to be touched. A light pink gloss adorns her full, pouty lips. I need to kiss those lips. Own them. Make them mine.
Her hair that was once wild and untamed now frames her face in silky sheets, so full and beautiful it affects her whole appearance. She clutches the tie to the robe she wears as if to shield herself from me. It won’t work.
“What do you think?” Eliott says proudly, as I walk slowly toward her, my arms outstretched. I want to gather her in my arms, but an irrational part of me fears that if I do, she’ll vanish like a ghost, as if this stunning woman in front of me is only a mirage.
“What do I think?” I repeat. “I think you and your team needs to leave this room.” Her eyes widen and she takes an involuntary step back.
“Sir, I haven’t even dressed her yet,” he says, shaking his head, and I know if I was anyone other than the pakhan, he would slap my hand and send me out of here until he was done.
“It’s precisely because you haven’t dressed her yet that you need to leave,” I tell him. “Now.”
He actually has the nerve to chuckle, gathering up his team and rustling out to the door.
“See you tonight,” he says. I overhear him whisper to his assistant in a stage whisper, “I predict we will soon see little Bratva boys and girls in this house. You watch.”
The door shuts. They’re gone.
She stands in front of me, eyeing me with a good deal of trepidation. Capturing her lips between her teeth, she looks shyly my way.
“They did a good job,” she whispers. “I—” She freezes, and I wonder if she remembers my admonition not to make self-deprecating remarks. She was about to. “It’s sort of miraculous,” she finally mutters, like she can’t even believe it. I’ll let that pass.
“Come here.”
I quirk a finger at her. Though taken with her beauty, I haven’t forgotten my primary duty, to train her in obedience so we can fill our roles, so we can lead this group of men with the clear understanding of who we are and what our duties are. Holding my gaze, she comes to me, and it isn’t until she’s within arm’s reach of me that I realize she’s trembling.
When she reaches me, I take her hand and tug her closer. She gives a little squeal and trots quickly to me.
“Tomas,” she whispers, fear written in her wide eyes. “I don’t… please—”
But I ignore her. Whatever it is she fears, she’ll face it and I will lead her. We don’t have the luxury of a lengthy courtship or weeks to get to know one another. Tonight, our hall will be filled to capacity with the most powerful leaders in America. My men will come in droves, expecting to see me arrive with my wife on my arm. An obedient, beautiful, submissive wife.
I reach one hand to her thick, gorgeous hair, running my fingertips through it from scalp to tip. The first time I do it she tenses, but the second time she begins to relax. By the third, she’s leaning into me, her eyes closed. The faintest scent of honey and violets lingers, carefree and feminine. It stirs something within me.