Page 21 of Bloody Lace

Dimitri continues, as if I hadn’t spoken. “AndIcare. You’re right that finding a woman to spend a night with is no difficulty for me, Evelyn. I’ve spent plenty of nights with plenty of beautiful women. But if I’m going to be married, I have no desire to humiliate my wife by even allowing the chance that I’ll be seen with someone else. I have no desire to be known as just another Bratva heir who does as he pleases when it comes to his bed. And I have no interest in hiding who I’m with, and what I’m doing.”

I swallow hard. I can feel my pulse in my throat, feel the heat flooding through me.Why is he like this?It would be so much easier to stick to the letter of our agreement if he were cruel, if he were casually unfaithful, if he were cold. But he’s none of those things. He’s a walking temptation, the kind of man I never thought actually existed, and I need, above all, to keep my walls up around him. If I falter for even a moment, I know, I could lose myself.

“There’s no telling how long we’ll be married,” I whisper. “You said it’s until your father passes. What if—” The words trail off, because it’s hitting me as I say it that we reallycouldbe married for years. I could have to hold this man at arm’s length for a very long time, and that anxiety worms its way through me again, my pulse suddenly racing for a very different reason.

“I understand,” Dimitri says calmly. “That changes nothing. Marriage means something to me, Evelyn, even if it’s only a matter of keeping my word. The fact that this is a business deal doesn’t change that. I keep my word in business, too. And I wanted out of my arrangement because I didn’t want her in mybed, and I couldn’t see a lifetime where my only options were that, or to be unfaithful.”

He reaches out, sliding the ring out of the velvet box, and he holds it out to me. “It’s business, Evelyn. But my word still means something to me, regardless.”

My heart is beating so hard it hurts. On the surface, I know, I should be glad that he’s saying these things. If he really is sincere—and fuck, if he isn’t, he should get an award for his acting—then that means I truly have nothing to fear from this arrangement. That he’ll keep his promises to me, that he’ll do everything he’s said. Restore my shop, protect me, and most importantly—let me go when this is all over.

“This isn’t necessary,” I whisper, looking at the ring. This feels monumental. It feels like stepping onto a rickety bridge over a deep chasm, one that will swallow me whole if I put even one foot wrong. And yet, Dimitri doesn’t falter.

“It is,” he says firmly. “This needs to appear to be real, in every sense, Evelyn. This Friday night, there’s a gala I’m expected to attend, the next in a long line of holiday dinners and events I need to show my face at. And I need you, as my new fiancee, to be on my arm for that. The marriage can be whatever we want it to be in private, but in public, it has to be real. And this is a part of that.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I nod. I reach out, taking the ring from his fingers, and slide it onto my left hand. It fits, and I swallow hard, trying not to feel that that means something. That I’ve just shackled myself to a dangerous future.

“What about the threat from the Crows?” I whisper. “You haven’t said anything about?—”

“Everything will be fine,” Dimitri promises. “You’re under my protection now, Evelyn. I have the contract here for you to sign, over dessert, if you like. And this weekend, when youappear in public on my arm, gossip will spread. You’re safe now, I promise you that.

I nod weakly, reaching for my wine glass. The ring sparkles brilliantly in the low light of the room, and I can’t take my eyes off of it. It’s beautiful, the most gorgeous piece of jewelry I’ve ever seen, and even I can see that it suits me. It’s a work of art, and it’s exactly the sort of style that I would choose, if I were picking out a ring for myself.

But it shouldn’t be on my finger. It’s something personal, somethingmeaningful, and it shouldn’t belong to me.

Just as I can’t ever,evertruly belong to him.

8

DIMITRI

The sight of my mother’s ring on Evelyn’s hand does something to me. I watch her as she sits there, her face pale, her fingers wrapped tightly around her wine glass, and I look at it sparkling on her hand.

It looks right. Like it belongs there. And my stomach twists as I remind myself that this is business. That no matter how much I might want Evelyn, I can’t allow myself to mistake it for something else.

All my life, I’ve avoided love. I’ve avoided attachments. There’s very little that I’ve taken to heart from my father, who I’ve watched decline over the years, going from a once-respected man to a leader who others ignore. But I remember what he told me about relationships in this world, and of all the things I disagree with him about, that one I’ve held onto.

Love is dangerous. It’s a weapon others can use against you. Women are for pleasure. For fun. A wife is for status. For heirs. But love has no place in this world for men like us.

There was no love between my parents, only duty. I was a teenager when my mother died, of a brutal and fast-moving cancer, it wasn’t love that caused my father to never marry again.He didn’t remarry because he had his heir, and there was no need to.

And I’ve seen what love can do. I saw what it did to my brother, the path it led him down. I know it’s why he’s lost to us. And I refuse to make the same mistakes.

I can protect Evelyn. I believe I can keep her safe. But if she matters to me, if I were to love her—if I were to love any woman, then my decision-making is affected. My choices will be different, because I would be desperate not to lose her. A head addled with love can’t ever think clearly.

Even if I feel like I might come to care for her, the best thing I can do for her is keep my emotions divorced from the situation.

And, eventually—divorceher. Set her free, so she knows I’m a man of my word, and we can both go on with our lives. That’s what I’ve promised, and it’s what I’ll do.

So why, as I look at her across the table, her black hair gleaming in the low light and my mother’s ring sparkling on her finger, does that thought make my chest tighten, resistance to the very idea sweeping through me?

Marriage is a duty. And keeping my word to her, in this, is the essence of my duty.

I keep that in mind all through the rest of the evening, as we order dinner, as Evelyn tells me about how she dreamed of opening her own boutique all through fashion school, how her parents didn’t think it was a good idea, but let her use three thousand dollars from her grandmother’s inheritance to go towards it.

“It wasn’t nearly enough, of course,” she says, taking a bite of the lamb chops over gorgonzola mashed potatoes that she ordered. “I had to take out a loan. It felt like a miracle that I got it at all, since they weren’t willing to cosign for it. I felt so lucky to have succeeded at something that I could have so easily failed at.” She bites her lip, looking up at me as she reaches for herwine. “I was so angry that night at the shop. When it burned.” She swallows, and I can see her mouth tighten, the flash of that remembered anger in her eyes. “That someone could take all of that away from me so quickly. Just because they decided I seemed weak enough to pick on.”

“You’re not weak.” It comes out more sharply than I intended, and I try to soften my voice. “You’re not weak in the slightest, Evelyn. Someone weak wouldn’t keep trying to figure out how to come back from that. And they certainly wouldn’t do what you’re doing right now.”

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