Page 22 of Lethal Saint

“What?” she whispered.

“Just appreciating my wife-to-be,” I answered honestly, failing to soften the possessiveness from my voice.

She glanced away. Not scared, almost… shy. Fuck me sideways, my wife was cute.

Fiancée. Notwifeyet. I dragged a hand through my hair, wanting her to almost-smile at me again.

I was in deep shit already, and—I groaned in realisation that she had no idea what sort of man I was.

“Vasya, I should probably warn you, so you know what you’re getting yourself into by marrying me.”

She stiffened but looked at me, not fixing her eyes on the table. That was something. The gun just beside the Victoria sponge probably had a lot to do with that.

“I know this is a marriage of convenience, for your safety, but I’m all in, Vasilisa. I don’t half-ass anything. And I can be a little… overbearing. I have certain needs, and they can be intimidating.”

I wasn’t sure she was breathing, but she said, “Okay. Like… like what?”

Liz’s words dragged their claws through my mind, but Vasilisa deserved to go into this marriage with open eyes.

I was out of tea; I didn’t have anything to do with my hands. I straightened the milkshake cups until they were in a perfect line.

“I can—I can handle it,” she whispered. “I promise.”

My chest clenched. Fuck, her imagination must be going wild.

“Nothing dangerous,” I said quickly, trying to catch her eyes. Failing. “Just overwhelming. Stifling. I’m—tactile. I’m a clingy bastard. Even now I want you here on my lap so I can hold you. When we’re married, it’ll be even worse. I will literally never want to stop touching you, or hugging you, or kissing you or—”

She shrugged.

I laid my heart out and she shrugged.

“I’m overbearing,” I warned. “I’ll buy you too many gifts. I’ll never let you in the kitchen. I’ll always be at your side; you’ll never be able to escape me. And when we’re forced to be apart, I’ll text you constantly. I’ll drive you mad.”

“Okay,” she said finally, taking another slurp of milkshake. “That sounds nice.”

“I’m—warning you,” I said, staring at her.

“Those are plus points,” she replied, flicking me an amused glance as the straw made stuttering, empty noises. I’d better get her two chocolate milkshakes next time. Three, just to be on the safe side.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. And speaking of being overbearing, I ordered you some clothes, underwear, a toothbrush, shower gel, makeup, things like that. The boxes are in the living room.”

“Boxes?” she echoed, her brown eyes widening, the sky too overcast to see the flecks of gold in them. “More than one?”

Err… “Yeah. More than one. But here, eat some fruit first so I can consider myself a halfway decent fiancée for giving you something nutritious for breakfast.”

“I doubt my last fiancée would even give me breakfast,” she replied, a little louder than before, “so you’re already winning.”

Rage poured through me, as destructive as lava. “I’m going to kill him, Vasilisa.”

That almost-smile curled the edges of her mouth again. “I hope so,” she said, and I was done for. I started to fall when she admitted she wanted to pull the trigger on me in the lift but now I fell harder, faster. No way back.

It was a good thing she wanted me as her husband, because I was completely infatuated with her.

And Vasilisa Marshall had a damn good ring to it.

“I don’t mind,” she said, reaching for a piece of peeled orange, blonde curls falling across her face. Were her cheeks pink? “If you want to do those things. I’m used to being touched for bad reasons,” she added quieter. “It’d be nice to be touched for good ones.”

My whole face softened; I felt it, felt every muscle bleed its tension. A smile pulled at my mouth.

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