Page 13 of Unbreakable Vow

“What? Why? We aren’t married yet.”

I tilt my head and spread my arms out. “Your apartment is underwater.”

She looks around and shrugs. “He’ll get it fixed and have a carpet service come in to clean the carpets.”

“This has happened before?” Heated anger fills my chest.

“Only once, but it wasn’t this bad. He’ll have the carpets cleaned and it will be fine. You don’t need to stay.”

“Cora,” I say again, summoning all of the energy I have to control my annoyance at having to repeat myself again. “Pack what you’ll need for the immediate future. Now.”

She looks at me for a long moment.

“I told you you’d be coming to live with me right away.”

“You said married people live together; we’re not married yet.”

“We’ll be married as soon as I can arrange it.”

She thinks a moment, then nods. “All right. At least until Mr. Carlini can get the cleaners in here.”

“Right.”

Or until I have my fill of you.

But she doesn’t need to know that part.

“This is your house?”I step out of the car and crane my neck to look up at the enormity before me.

“What did I tell you about opening your own door?” Sergei grumbles when he gets to my side.

“It’s a door.” I shrug. “But seriously, this whole thing is yours?” I gesture at the mansion.

The front door to the house opens and man wearing a black polo shirt and slacks jogs down the three steps to the walkway and then to the locked gate where we stand.

“Park it for the night.” Sergei holds the gate open for me as he calls to the guy again. “There’s bags in the back, bring them inside, up to the guest suite.”

“Oh, I can get them.” I turn to go back to where Sergei has the car parked for the moment, but Sergei tugs on my arm.

“He’ll get them. Let’s get inside.”

I hurry to keep up with his wide stride, tripping on the bottom step of the stairs. He catches me before my knee hits the next step.

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“He was going too fast,” a woman standing in the doorway says with a warm smile. She says more, but it’s in Russian and aimed at Sergei.

He glowers back at her, and I’m sure she’s going to run off. The man has a sharp glare that would make anyone unnerved.

But she merely brushes his hand from my arm.

“Come inside, it’s supposed to rain tonight,” she says, pointing up at the dark clouds rolling in.

“It’s not raining yet,” Sergei says. “Coraline, this is Mrs. Yugov; she runs the house. If you need anything you just ask her, and she’ll make sure you get it.”

I take her in. She’s shorter than I, and her silver hair is pulled into a high bun. Her smile warms her features, and she feels more like the mother of the home, not the housekeeper.

“Coraline? Is that your name?”

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