Page 38 of Deceitful Vows

I like Mikhail. He’s the kindest stranger I’ve ever met, but only yesterday, he was precisely that—a stranger—so it isn’t my job to fix his family’s woes.

Furthermore, I have enough of my own family drama to contend with. I can’t accept more.

When I say that to Mikhail, he uses my wish for a healthy relationship with my sister to his advantage. “Then stay for your sister. It is barely eleven. She’s still got an hour before she can damage her insides with multiple forms of curdled cream.”

“And risk a possible run-in with Andrik?” When shock that I read his game plan so easily forms on his face, I let out a long-winded breath. “You shouldn’t wish that on your worst enemy, much less your brother.” A rebellion streak fires through me when I mumble, “I might ball my hand this time.”

Mikhail is clearly aware of his brother’s hankering for violence. “It’s worth a shot. It worked well for you last time.”

I “Ha!”in his face. “So well I was forced into adultery. Excuse me if I don’t rush to sign up for that again.”

I only get three steps away from him when his murmured comment stops me in my tracks. “Even if it will see him leaving his wife for you like he did this morning?” He waits for me to twist to face him before saying, “I only learned that he was married because his secretary attached his annulment paperwork to the quarterly business statements instead of the financial reports only ever compiled on Andrik’s laptop since he doesn’t trust anyone else with them.” He steps closer, his walk back to its cocky strut. “You rocked his world so fucking well that the first report he pulled up this morning was how to annul a marriage contract instead of the financials keeping his bank balance in the billions.”

The mention of his wealth is unnecessary because no amount of money can excuse Andrik’s mistake. He lied—point blank. And as much as my ego is desperate to be stroked, I don’t want it coming from a taken man.

My mother’s violative relationships exposed that if a man can cheat on his wife with you, he can cheat on you too. There is no loyalty with cheaters.

Realizing nothing he could say will erase years of teachings, Mikhail rubs his hands together before saying, “Will you at least let me buy you breakfast?”

“I’d rather push your courtesy for a ride back to my car.” It is chilly out, and although Mikhail’s building is only a few miles from here, I don’t want to walk. Anger hardens your muscles even more than multiple orgasms.

He looks like he wants to argue.

Mercifully, he doesn’t.

“All right.” He accepts his jacket from the smiling coat clerk and puts it on. “But we’re stopping at Vai Me! on the way for supplies. I’m fucking starving, and you haven’t had nowhere near enough caffeine to work through the pile of shit I just dumped on you.”

The flashes of multiple cameras pull me from my stupor state. They race for the vehicle too low to the ground for Mikhail to use the drive-thru at his favorite breakfast haunt before shoving them into Mikhail’s face and mine as if we’re doing something more interesting than lugging bags of fat and salt-laden fast food into the foyer of his building.

The first few questions are about me and what connection I have to Mikhail. His lack of comment soon shifts their focus to Andrik.

“Mikhail, do you have any comments on your brother’s recent relationship status update?”

“Are rumors of a rift between your grandfather and your father true?”

“How did your brother keep his relationship under wraps for so long?”

“Will you be attending the wedding?”

Questions are flung at us so hard and fast that they meld into one.

Thankfully, a combination of security officers and valet attendants stop them from entering the foyer of Mikhail’s building.

I’m left defenseless when we reach the private service elevator I only agreed to ride since I left my keys in Mikhail’s penthouse, though.

Before I can fathom what’s happening, my wrist is seized and I’m yanked into the elevator car with so much force orange juice and flavored iced tea spill over the rims of the plastic cups they were served in, dotting my open-toe heels and ankles.

The stickiness is bad enough to contend with, so I won’t mention my response to the discovery that Mikhail wasn’t pulled into the carnage with me.

He’s still outside the elevator, standing just back from the rapidly closing doors I’ll never reach before they snap shut.

I glare at Mikhail’s snickering face in warning of the wrath I’ll rain down on him once I’m freed from this hot box before I spin to face the cause of the sweat beading on my neck.

As suspected, Andrik is standing opposite me, raking his eyes up my body.

He takes his time assessing me, doubling the anger slicking my skin with sweat.

Justice gets served when his eyes finally make their way to my chest. I don’t know the university’s emblem slashed across the front of the shirt I borrowed from Mikhail, but Andrik clearly does. It firms his jaw to the point of cracking and has jealousy roaring through his body—jealousy he has no right to have.

---