Page 16 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

Irina stares but quickly composes herself.

“Oh! Of course!” Irina says. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

She takes out her mobile and makes a quick call. I can’t understand what she’s saying but it seems as if she’s pleading with someone. Markov listens carefully, his face darkening.

Shit.

She comes back a minute later, smiling broadly. “All set,” she says. “You can come with me. I’ve arranged a car ride back to the school and will only have to make a minor adjustment to the room situation.”

Oh dear God.

The room situation.

“Have you two met on the way here?” Irina says, a wide smile in place. “Mr. Thomas didn’t come from too far away, Ms. Ivanov,” she says. “You hail from the Midwest, don’t you?”

”I do,” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets as if he’s being modest. “Though the last few years I studied at Harvard.”

Oh, God, name-dropping an Ivy League. Lovely.

The bustling atmosphere of the airport surrounding us makes me feel even more exhausted than ever. I stifle a yawn.

“You must be exhausted after that flight. Come, we’ll get you situated in your rooms and give you time to rest before we have a formal dinner tonight to introduce everyone.”

Get you situated in your rooms.

What have I done?

“Thank you.”

I have to tell Markov. If he hears from anyone else what happened. . . what if he tells them I lied? That he is actually my bodyguard?

How am I going to tell him?

Markov fits the luggage in an overhead rack on the roof of the car, which is admittedly handy. Jake gets into the car first, and I go to follow, but Markov takes me by the arm and shakes his head. “Nyet.”

He jerks his head behind him and makes me step aside so that he can sit beside Jake.

“Heh,” Jake says. “I guess if it were my wife, I wouldn’t want her sandwiched between us either.” He gives me a smile. I’m glad somebody can be a good sport about things.

A part of me is admittedly thankful, though. I don’t know Markov well, but I know him better than Jake, and if I’m going to be sitting side-by-side with a man, stuffed so close together we’re like sardines in a can, I’d rather be next to Markov than a stranger I don’t trust.

It doesn’t really dawn on me that, for all intents and purposes, Markov is a stranger I don’t trust.

We’re squeezed together on the ride to the school while Jake and Irina chatter on in Russian and I fight to keep my eyes open. Why did I say he was my husband? I had the entire flight to come up with a plan but feel like I’m flailing. What will they do with a married couple in the program? Ugh.

Markov sits upright, constantly scanning our surroundings as if looking for a potential threat while he keeps his facade in place. I guess that’s his job. Is he always this vigilant?

My eyelids are heavy, but I try to keep them open. I don’t want to miss anything. As we approach the campus in Moscow, the vibrant energy of the city excites me. The streets are alive with a mix of people—students hurrying along with laptop bags and backpacks, street vendors selling foods, and business professionals in suits and skirts hurrying from one place to the next. I notice Moscow’s famous metro buses and trams snaking their way through the crowd.

For the first time, I’m glad I have Markov with me. It’s overwhelming to think of being totally alone.

I stifle a yawn. I like my sleep and hardly got any last night. The car is warm, and Markov’s like an electric heater beside me. I fight to stay awake but still find Markov gently shaking my shoulder as we arrive.

“We have housing adjacent to the dorms for our grad students in specialty fields. It’s nothing fancy and really, glorified dorms, but they’re at least semi-private.”

I look at Markov, but he doesn’t respond. I discreetly take out my phone and type a message in the translator app I downloaded. I have to tell him what I told her. He has to be able to play the part.

“I’m sorry, but there was a miscommunication. For now, just for now, you have to pretend to be my husband. Okay?”

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