Page 37 of Under Control

No, not even a little bit.

Chapter 13

Karine

The wedding breaks up and Valentin drags me into the mansion. “What are we doing now?” I ask him but he doesn’t respond. Instead, we end up in the dining room as several bottles of very good vodka get carried in by Nikkita.

“Traditional Russian celebration,” Valentin explains as he pours me a glass. “To your health.”

He takes his own measure and throws it back. I watch him, stomach twisted into knots and core still tangled with the memory of his kiss. I sip the vodka, and it’s surprisingly not that bad—and it warms my belly when I toss it all the way down.

“Good girl,” Valentin says as he pours another.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Not exactly.” He paces away from me toward the windows. “Distracting you, more like.”

“From what?”

He nods as the door opens and several men come inside. I watch them carry boxes up the steps and disappear onto the secondfloor. A sinking, nervous feeling makes me put my second glass of vodka back down on the table.

“Valentin,” I repeat, a little more urgently now. “From what?”

He ignores me and drifts to the doorway. The men return and one of them pauses in front of his boss. They speak Russian and I have no idea what they’re saying, but soon the men are gone, and Valentin’s taking me by the arm again.

“I assume you didn’t tell your mother about our arrangement,” he says in a scolding tone. “Maxim tells me she wasn’t happy when they arrived at your house.”

“Hold on a second. Your men were at my house?”

“Apparently, she gave them a whole lot of trouble, actually. Which is quite frustrating.”

I drag myself from his grasp before we can start climbing the stairs. I feel absurd in my wedding dress, but the vodka’s loosening my tongue and giving me a little confidence.

“When did you expect me to tell my mother about me and you? When she was crying on the bathroom floor? Or when you dragged me here and shoved me in a wedding dress?”

“Sometime between those two things would’ve sufficed.” He presses his lips together and turns on me, looming like a skyscraper’s shadow. “Understand something, Karine. You are mine now. You are my wife. You are my queen. Which means you will play by my rules.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“That wasexactlythe deal.” He turns away. “Now come, let’s get you settled.”

I don’t like that word,settled, and reluctantly follow him up to the second floor. He leads me into a beautiful and large master bedroom with modern furniture and expensive-looking minimalist decorations. Everything is a shade of black and gray. Sitting at the end of the big bed are several boxes, each of them labeled with my name.

“You may unpack yourself, if you wish, or I can have Nikkita do it for you.”

His voice sounds distant as I drift to the boxes and bend down to peer inside.

One has all my shoes in it. Another has my pants, my dresses, my underwear. All my clothes, most of the stuff from my room, even a box with the majority of my toiletries, everything neatly packed and labeled.

Horror fills me. It’s like looking at crime scene photographs of my own murder.

“You moved me in?” I ask, looking up at him.

Valentin studies me from the doorway. “What did you think would happen?”

“I don’t know. I wanted some time to explain to my mother?—”

“Now you can see why my men had trouble.”

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