Page 24 of Forced Marriage Vows

She says my name with a sharpness that cuts through the air between us, and I’m surprised by the question. But the memoryof that kiss from years ago rises between us like smoke, thick and inescapable.

Her voice lowers, her gaze piercing. “Or maybe you’ve just forgotten that kiss? That moment we shared… and then you disappeared like it meant nothing.”

Her words hit like a blow, and I lean forward, holding her gaze. “Of course I remember,” I murmur, voice steady, but I feel the way my chest tightens. “Leaving was… necessary. Out of respect for your brother.”

Her expression hardens, a mix of anger and hurt. “Respect for my brother? You really think that means something to me? I thought we had something real, Mikhail, and you walked away without a single word.”

I can’t hold back anymore. I lean closer, my hand moving to cover hers on the table. “It meant everything to me, Anastasia. And that’s exactly why I left. I didn’t know what I wanted and didn’t want you or Ant to have to put up with the fuckery. But don’t think for a second that it was easy. I’ve thought about you every day since.” My voice drops to a near whisper, raw with honesty.

“When I saw you again at the club for Anthony’s birthday, I knew it had to be you. I won’t marry anyone else but you, because you’re the only one I’ve ever burned for. That’s why this plan is perfect.”

She pulls her hand back, her lips parting, but the words seem caught in her throat. I see the cracks forming in her resolve, her defenses falling piece by piece.

But I sit back, giving her space. “I’m not here to lie to you, solnyshko. I’m here because there’s no other option in my mind. It’s you, or it’s no one.”

Her cheeks flush, but she fights to keep her composure. “You think you can just show up, kidnap me, and then expect me to fall for all of this?”

“I think you know I don’t take no for an answer,” I reply, a half-smile tugging at my lips.

She turns away, her face a storm of emotions. But I see it—the way her guard slips, the hint of something more than just anger.

It’s only a flicker, but it’s there, and I cling to it. One day, I’ll break through that wall. One day, I’ll make her admit she feels it, too.

She scoffs, crossing her arms, her gaze defiant. “I don’t buy that for a second. One kiss, you disappear, and suddenly I’m the one? You expect me to believe you’re serious? I must be one hell of a kisser,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“You have a big ego,solnyshko,” I say warmly.

It’s a term of endearment in Russian. One that slips out without me realizing. It aptly describes her, though. Somehow, Anastasia’s become a person that thaws me. Makes me feel warmer. A sun. My sun.

“No, I’m being serious. Marriage is a lifelong commitment,” she stresses, ignoring the nickname.

“I’m aware.”

“You want to be tethered to someone you don’t like for the rest of your life? No, that’s bullshit. There has to be something there.“

I consider that for a moment.

“In the spirit of being completely honest. I’ll admit that I find you extremely beautiful, and before this entire fiasco, I had indulged in some… thoughts of you. Far beyond that kiss and not the gentlemanly type,” I confess.

“Meaning you wanted to fuck me,” she says dryly, not the least bit surprised.

I shrug. “Like I said, you’re incredibly beautiful.”

“So that’s it. You don’t even like me. You just find me hot and want to get in my pants,” she mutters. “You do understand howproblematic it is that you had to go down this route instead of trying to achieve that goal like a normal person?”

“Interesting,” I murmur. “Are you saying you’d have fucked me if I asked, Anastasia?”

The tension in the room goes up a few notches and I notice Anastasia’s cheeks grow a little redder.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t sleep with you just because you asked, dickhead.”

I throw my hand over the chair at my side as I observe her. “So what would it take?” I ask, entirely serious.

She exhales softly, looking away from me. “I’m not talking about this with you because number one, it’s never going to happen. And number two, you’re basically my kidnapper and I hate your fucking guts.”

I smile, my gaze returning to the food in front of me. “You started it,solnyshko,” I tell her.

“Don’t call me that.”

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