Page 50 of Forced Marriage Vows

“But you moved out. Why?”

“Because I got tired of all the parties and the people who were always in the house. When we were younger, Papa didn’t let them come and go as they wished. But I guess he just stopped caring.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’ll be just us most of the time. I promise.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “You know you have a bad habit of making promises you might not be able to keep.”

He scoffs, “You’re talking to Mikhail Morozova, baby. I always keep my promises.”

The confidence makes him sexy. If not a little arrogant. We don’t speak again until after our meal, which is actually pretty good.

“Where did you learn how to cook?” I ask him once I’ve cleared my plate.

He smiles. “An ex-girlfriend taught me.”

I roll my eyes before I can stop myself. “Seriously?”

He leans back in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching up in that maddening smirk he wears so well. “Careful. You almost sound jealous.”

My jaw tightens. “Why would I be jealous? I know all about your endless slew of girlfriends and conquests.”

“Conquests? I don’t have conquests, Anastasia.”

“So you’re saying you cared about every single woman you’ve been with?”

He drags a hand through his hair. “I’ll admit that I didn’t care about them. But I respect every single one of them. They weren’t just conquests to me. They were women I was with. They know the score when they get into bed with me, and I make sure to treat them right. No woman who gets into bed with me is ever left unsatisfied. You would know,solnyshko.”

The urge to throw my cup of water in his face hits me. I force myself to remain calm, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me react.

“You’re a pig, Morozova,” I snarl.

“You’re not like them,” he says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “I chose you, Anastasia. I married you. Every single woman who came before you is inconsequential. You mean so much more than any of them could.”

There’s a beat of silence, heavy and charged, as I stare at him, unsure how to respond. His gaze locks with mine, unwavering, and I feel something twist inside of me, something I refuse to name.

God, why does he make it so hard to hate him?

The air between us feels electric, crackling with something unspoken, and for a moment I can’t breathe. His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. But I don’t want to let myself believe them. Not when I know who he is. Not after all he’s done.

“I don’t want to mean something to you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“I know,” he says, his eyes softening. “But you do.”

My heart races in my chest. “Mikhail…” I start, but he pushes back the chair, getting to his feet.

“You had a long day, sweetheart. And I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

He walks away and I immediately feel awful. Because I can tell he’s trying his best. On some level, I know things could be worse. I could have been forced into a marriage with someone ruthless, cruel, and inhumane. Instead, I got Mikhail.

And I know he can be all of those things. But he’s never been any of them with me.

Lucia is already waiting for me when I pull up to the yoga studio the next morning. She’s leaning against the wall, a bright smile on her face. Her brown hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she’s dressed in a matching athletic set that seems more fashionable than functional. I feel a little underdressed in my plain leggings and loose T-shirt, but she greets me like I’ve just walked off a runway.

“Anastasia! You made it!”

She pushes off the wall and pulls me into a warm hug. Her energy is infectious and I can’t help but smile as I return the embrace.

“I almost didn’t,” I admit, pulling back. “But you’re very persuasive.”

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