What I wanted was a management position. But not one given to me because of my father. I wanted it to be fully earned,fuck you very much.
But making people trust in the quality of my work wasn’t easy. It took me years to earn respect based on my own merit, and still, there were many who doubted my abilities.
It sucked.
I hated it.
But I forced myself to march on. Determination was a Volkov trait, and I never was any good at being a wallflower.
I’m Michaela fucking Volkov.
Smart.
Ambitious.
Hardworking.
I was going to make a name for myself if it killed me.
Even if all my accomplishments meant dick to those who thought nepotism responsible for my rise in Volkov Industries.
That didn’t really matter here, though.
In fact, all my anxiety about my career seemed to vanish under the weight of being here with Liam O’Doyle.
I breathed in slowly.
Was this really it? I married someone to assert my independence. How fucking ass backwards could I get?
What have you done, Micky?
Chapter 10-Michaela
Istared at the cold diamond on my hand and swallowed my nerves.
I can’t believe we’re married. I’m his wife.
His. Fucking. Wife.
That brought up another question about, well,fucking, actually. I mean, would we be? Having sex, that was.
I had no idea. But my thighs clenched on their own at the mere idea of it, and I had to admit I was not unaffected by him.
Standing in this penthouse, I was on the verge of freaking out as the truth took root inside me.
The air in the room felt charged, crackling with something unspoken.
My heart raced, my pulse quickening as I tried to collect myself.
I wanted to say something—anything—but my throat felt tight, like the words were stuck there, unwilling to come out.
I wasn’t used to feeling this unsettled, especially not around men. But Liam was not just any man. He was my first real crush. And now,well, he was my husband.
Holy. Fuck.
His movements were slow, deliberate, but I could sense the tension in them, too.
Liam was trying to appear calm, but I could see the way his jaw clenched just slightly, the way his hand held the tumbler a little too firmly as he set it down on the bar.