Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I had to delete everything and smash the hard drive to keep myself from spending the rest of my life staring at her.
“I understand what you mean,” Tigran says, looking back out the window. He seems subdued and unhappy. “That’s how I thought of my arrangement with Dasha at first. But you might find yourself changing your mind.”
“That’s unlikely.”
“Have you ever been in a serious relationship before?”
I shake my head. “No, and I still won’t be.”
“You’re getting married to her.”
“On paper, yes. I’ll be faithful, and I’ll treat her well, but she won’t really be my wife.”
He makes a noncommittal grunt and glances back at me. “You’re forgetting something though. The most important part of the agreement.”
I grind my jaw. I haven’t forgotten that at all. Only I’ve been trying very hard not to think about it because the second I do, all I want is to close my eyes and imagine Riley’s moans.
“I know what I have to do,” I say quietly.
“Getting her pregnant won’t be easy. From what I hear, the girl’s got a mind of her own, and that’s putting it lightly.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“I’m sure you know the mechanics—” He gives me a tight smile. “But it’s a big commitment.”
“I’ll do my duty.”
“Alexan,” he says, getting frustrated now. “You’re not hearing me. Having a child changes things. Right now, you think it’s easy, but trust me. Throw a baby in the mix, and shit gets complicated.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll do what’s required of me.”
He gives me a long, searching look but eventually gives up. “I trust you. She’s got to get pregnant in the first year of your marriage. That’s the same deal I went through, and now it’s your turn. I’d tell you good luck, but I think you’ll need more than luck. If you want my advice, I think you need to come up with a reasonable offer to make. Tell her you’ll buy her a house or something. Make her understand this can be a pleasant situation if you both work together and get along.”
I pull up outside Tigran’s house and park at the curb. He doesn’t leave immediately. His wife and child are waiting inside for him, and I know he adores them more than anything in the world. Brutal, vicious Tigran, tamed by a woman and a baby. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t watched it happen.
He’s still that man. There’s a killer lurking behind that smile. But he’s calmer now, more even-tempered, less prone to solving all his problems with his fists and a blade, which is probably for the best.
But that’s not going to happen with me.
“We appreciate what you’re doing for the Brotherhood,” he says at last and pushes open the door. “I hope you understand that.”
He climbs out and heads into the house.
I kill the engine and lean back in my seat. I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose to calm myself.
Riley McGrath means nothing to me.
She’s just some girl I’m going to marry. Former gymnast, straight-A student according to her high school transcripts, prolific watcher of Friends and How I Met Your Mother, Instagram user, TikTok scroller, normal to the bone.
Except there’s an edge to that girl.
I open my laptop, log into my security system, and check all my cameras.
No thieves, no unexpected guests.
A little twinge of disappointment hits me. I keep hoping she’ll show up again wearing nothing but that shirt.
Except it won’t happen, and when we get married, I’ll forget all about the girl on my screen.
I’ll never be a good husband. I’ll make a terrible fucking father. There isn’t an ounce of love, sympathy, or passion in my heart.
All I care about is controlling my little corner of the world.
But when that spitfire gets thrown into the mix?
I suspect I’m in for one hellish marriage.
Chapter 3
Riley
Five weeks until the wedding.
I slam back the last of my Guinness and signal for the bartender to bring me another. The Rowdy Mule is crowded for a Thursday night, probably because some wannabe Irish band is playing crappy folk music.
Cassidy plops down beside me at the bar and leans over to give me a tight hug. “When the heck did you get here?”
“About a half hour ago.” She’s late, like always, but I don’t hold it against her. Cass is my cousin and my best friend. She’s cute as a bumblebee and has her head in the damn clouds, but I love her to death.
“You look super cute right now. Where did you get that shirt?”
I pluck at the big, oversized collar and shrug a little. “Just found it in some thrift shop.”
Which isn’t remotely true. Every time I adjust the fabric slightly, I get another whiff of its smell. I can’t bring myself to wash it, even two weeks since I first stole it from my future husband’s house.