Page 22 of Crown of Hate

After a display like that, surely he’s anticipating more tonight, right?

Hell, and if I’m honest with myself, I’d be disappointed if nothing else happened.

But what if it was all for show? Just a public claim of ownership? What if he’s not actually attracted to me, and I’m reading too much into things?

I shake off the doubt. No, that kiss was too raw, too hungry to be just a show. Besides, there wasn’t even anyone important there.

Returning to my room, I’m greeted by red lingerie laid out on the bed—a provocative piece with more strategic openings than actual coverage. I scoff. Of course Mikhail picked this out. Does he think I’m here to star in some private porn show or something?

Part of me wants to toss the garment on the floor. But it’s the only piece of clothing I have right now. And a small, rebellious part of me actually burns with curiosity. What would Mikhail’s face look like if I sauntered in wearing this bit of scarlet nothing? The thought of him rendered speechless with desire sends an unexpected thrill through me.

After putting on the lingerie, I brush my hair into a high ponytail and spritz on some perfume. Then I leave my room, having no idea where exactly I’m going. Mikhail’s room is down the hall, but suddenly, I’m not that sure he’d be pleased to see me there uninvited.

I sigh, frustration bubbling up. Screw that. Why do I care about what’ll please him? He kidnapped me and forced me to marry him. I’ll cross whatever boundaries I damn well please.

My mind blank, I find myself walking towards his room. The sheer scale of this place hits me—another wing of stairs sprawls across from his door. Just how obscenely massive is this mansion?

I hesitate outside his bedroom, hand suspended inches from the door. My heart thunders in my chest, each beat a war drum of indecision. Should I knock? What if he’s already passed out?Or what if… what if he’s not alone? The thought sends an unexpected pang of jealousy through me.

I gnaw my lip, fingers curling into a fist, then relaxing again. This is ridiculous. I’m his wife now, aren’t I? Even if it’s just on paper. But the title doesn’t erase the fact that he’s essentially a stranger—a dangerous one at that. One that I…

Stop it, Alya. Focus.

My hand falls to my side as I take a deep breath.

No.

I won’t give him the satisfaction of coming to him like an eager puppy. Let him make the first move. If he wants me, he can come find me.

Decision made, I pivot on my heel to leave. But as I turn, I let out a startled squeal. A pair of piercing blue eyes meet mine, gleaming with amusement at catching me in front of his door.

What the… How long has he been watching me?

“Mikhail… I…” The words die in my throat as his gaze roams over me and lingers on the low neckline of the teddy.

My muscles go rigid under his scrutiny. I can’t move, can’t breathe, and can’t think beyond my imagination running wild with images of him pinning me against the wall and kissing me senseless again.

I allow myself to drink in the sight of his broad, muscular chest peeking through his open shirt. This man is sculpted like someone who practically lives at the gym, all defined muscle and strength.

My fingers itch to trace those abs, to explore every plane and curve. He could easily be gracing magazine covers and giving models a run for their money if he weren’t… well, whatever he really is.

A monster.

“That looks good on you,” he says, his voice a gravelly rumble, eyes darkening with unmistakable desire.

My chest flutters. I hate how his compliments affect me, how they make me want to forget who he is and what he did to my father. My mind knows he’s the enemy, but my body seems to have other ideas, responding to his voice and presence with a will of its own.

I ignore his compliment, but it doesn’t stop the warmth blossoming in my chest. “I know you picked it out.”

He nods. “You’re my wife now. I can get you whatever I want.”

I roll my eyes. “Such a man-whore.”

A flicker of amusement dances through his expression. “Am I?” He climbs one of the three stairs keeping us apart. “You came running to me the moment you got dressed in that little number.”

“I wasn’t running to you, Mikhail. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not the only one who lives here.”

He climbs the second step. “But I’m the only one you miss. The only one you yearn for. The only one you want to kiss... again. Am I wrong?”

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