Page 32 of Forced Marriage Vows

I only smile and shake my head.

The both of us have only just stepped outside when I notice a man walking toward us. I frown, surreptitiously moving to stand in front of Anastasia.

I feel a light punch on my back when she realizes what I’m doing.

“You’re an asshole,” she whispers.

“No,” I say when the man is gone, turning around to look at her, “I just don’t like people looking at what’s mine.”

Her eyes narrow. “I’m not yours.”

“Not yet.”

We return to my house to find Anthony awake and in a similar position to the one Anastasia was in earlier—with a coffee mug standing beside the coffee maker in the kitchen. Theyboth consume far too much caffeine. But I’ve had the argument with Anthony far too many times to know he’s not going to listen to me on that.

He looks better this morning. While his dark brown hair is sticking up at the sides and he still has sleep lines on his face, his eyes are certainly clearer. He was a mess last night. Now he looks like the goofball I’m used to.

His eyebrows go up when we walk into the room. “Where were you two?”

“The gym,” his sister replies.

His brows nearly reach his hairline as he notices her outfit. “You went to the gym with him? In that?” he says, gesturing at her.

Anastasia groans softly, “The both of you are insufferable and I’m going to my room,” she announces.

“I’ll prepare breakfast,” I say, watching her as she leaves.

When I turn to Anthony, he’s already looking at me with a frown on his face.

“You like my sister,” he says accusingly.

I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Cut the shit. I saw the way you were looking at her just now. You. Like. Her.”

My feelings toward his sister are complicated, and he would definitely punch me in the face if I tried to explain it to him. So I simply shrug without saying a word.

“Holy shit,” Anthony says, taking my silence as an admission. “So that’s why you’re doing all this?”

“I’m doing all this because I want to become Pakhan,” I state.

He frowns, eyeing me over his coffee cup. “Why the hell do you even want the job?”

“Because someone has to have it,” I answer simply.

His eyes narrow. “So what are you saying? You’re doing this because I wouldn’t take over from my father? Because somebody has to become the next Pakhan so it might as well be you.”

“No. I’m doing this because while you’ve never had an interest, I always had. And you know this. You knew I was always going to return here. The Bratva lives in me, Anthony. It’s who I am.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he mutters bitterly.

“Nobody’s blaming you,” I tell him, trying to ease the dejected look in his eyes. “None of this is your fault.”

“My best friend is forcing my sister to marry him. Trust me, it’s my fault. I screwed up and led all of us into this situation.”

“That’s…. ridiculous.”

He won’t listen, though, so I decide to appeal to something else.

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