Page 53 of Deceitful Vows

Again, he slows my steps. “He will log your tags into the transport department database the instant his security team strips them from the servers of the underground parking lot of my building.” I hate how much honesty is in his tone when he continues. “If you so much as drive through a toll booth or past an infringement camera, he will learn of your whereabouts.”

“Then I’ll take the bus,” I shout, my anger picking up.

My car is the only thing of value I own, yet the thought of abandoning it isn’t the sole cause of my frustration. I’m the most annoyed about the hope Mikhail’s warning flooded my veins with.

I can’t be attracted to a taken man.

It is morally unethical.

I just wish Andrik was as ugly as a monkey’s butt, and that the sheer honesty in his eyes when he said his marriage was a tactically laid out ruse seemed more fraudulent than real. Then I could walk away without the slightest snippet of hesitation. I’d stop second-guessing my guilt as doubt and move on with my life.

“His hacker will infiltrate the bus network as fast as he does any website, social media app, or bank account you use. From what I witnessed, he’s snowed fucking under, Sunshine. Buried deep. He won’t let you walk away from him.” I’m about to yell at him that it isn’t Andrik’s choice. That he doesn’t own me. Before I can, Mikhail’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes. “Unless…”

“Unless?” I encourage, desperate to get away from the inane thoughts in my head telling me infertility makes me worthless.

Mikhail digs a small black device out of his pocket. I have no clue what it is, but Mikhail stares at it as if it is the answer of every riddle. “He’ll kill me but fuck it.” Mischievousness fires through his eyes when he locks them with mine. “It is a little brother’s job to make his siblings miserable.” His expression takes on a serious note. “And maybe this will replace the hate daggers you’ve been hitting me with over the past hour back to friendly fire.”

I don’t hate him, but once again, I’m too confused to express any emotion, much less one that requires a fully functioning heart.

After exhaling his disappointment that I didn’t deny his accusation of dislike, he explains what the device is and how it operates. “You can’t use it at every location, or he’ll track the disruption of intermittence. But if you coordinate its use with visits to less monitored locations, you should be able to make it home relatively unscathed.”

“Is there a tracker in this?” I accept the dirtbox he’s holding out for me before swiveling it around. It’s so small it shouldn’t elicit so much power. But I feel stronger just holding it.

Dark hairs flop into Mikhail’s eyes when he shakes his head. “No. No one will know where it is used or when. Not even me.” When I fail to hide the flare of disappointment darting through my eyes, his lips inch higher. “You know where to find me when you’re ready.”

“For?” I ask, still too bamboozled to dig through the rubble unaided.

He bumps me like he knows I’m nowhere near as stupid as I am portraying, before he jogs to a car parked a couple of spots up. “This should get you across the country multiple times.”

I push back the wad of cash he attempts to hand me. “I can’t take your money.”

“Why the fuck not?” he asks, his tone serious.

Hepfftsme when I say, “I didn’t earn it.”

“You reminded Andrik that he is human. That’s worth far more than this.” His expression switches from serious to playful. “And I don’t want you using the excuse you’ve got no data or some shit like that when you’re finally ready to forgive me.” The crinkle between his brows is back, deeper and as uneased as ever. “I didn’t know they were going to bombard you like that. My father made out?—”

“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt, too confused to add more to the over-stacked plate. “I’ll pay you back.” I split the bundle he handed me in half and return the bigger half to him. “So I guess you better give me your number so I have a way of contacting you for your bank details.”

You’d swear I invited him into my bed. That’s how big his smile is when he plucks a bill from his stack and scribbles his phone number across it.

I roll my eyes when he hands it to me.

Of course, it is the biggest denomination available in Russia.

“What?” Mikhail’s grin is brighter than the high-hanging sun. “It’s not like you’ll spend it.” He pops the cap onto the marker he summoned from nowhere before smacking his lips together with a similar noise. “Your eyes didn’t get the slightest sugar-baby gleam when I mentioned Andrik’s wealth earlier.”

“Well-rehearsed on the traits of sugar babies, are we, Marshmallow Man?” I ask, hating his dour tone.

I’m reminded that he’s been the most honest of the bunch when he quotes, “Will you call me a hussy if I say yes?” When I smile, he nudges his head to his ride before opening the passenger side door in offering. “My coffin has already been chosen, so why not add an extra few nails for sturdiness.”

If I truly believed he was in danger, I wouldn’t accept his offer.

But since I know the depths one sibling will go for another, I push the button on the dirtbox before sliding onto the passenger’s seat of Mikhail’s fancy ride.

19

ZOYA

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