Page 79 of Brutal Promise

The office is decorated with dark wood and dark leather, very manly. The carpet is so dark you could kill someone in here and not worry about cleaning up the blood stains.

I’m tempted to climb the sizeable wooden ladder leading to the bookshelves out of my reach. I have one foot on the ladder when I hear Erik clear his throat.

I pause and turn my head to where he fills the doorway. I can see the bulge of a gun under his suit jacket, and I’m reminded that the threat is real and isn’t over.

“I’ll get that for you, ma’am.”

“Please call me Izzy. Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“Mr. Volkov won’t like it.”

“It’s fine. I’m not one to stand on protocol.”

Erik hastens to the ladder and holds it for me while I climb and run my fingers over the spines of ancient books bound in leather. I find the British classics by Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, and Emily Brontë, among others. There are books in Russian I do not recognize.

“Do you read in Russian, Erik?”

“Yes, I know both English and Russian. Do I need to translate?”

“I wish I knew what Dmitry says when he calls me Usha Moya. I’m probably not saying it correctly.” I let myself down the ladder.

“It meansmy soul. It’s a term of endearment.”

My soul.Really? That’s unexpected from a man who blows hot and cold.

“Wow,” I murmur. Now I’m really confused. There are so many layers to this man.

“Do you like the house? He just bought it.”

“Really? I love it. I mean, it’s huge. Is it okay if I walk around?”

“Sure, I’ll check in with the guard house and security staff. When you’re done, I’m sure Charlotte would like to review menus with you and go over how you want the house to run.”

“I don’t know how to run a household. I’ve never had staff.” I stand, feeling inadequate.

“Well.” He straightens. “Dmitry would be happy if you took an interest, ma’am.”

“Izzy, please,” I implore him. “Leave my fiancé to me. We’ll be together all the time; we may as well get to know each other. I’m going to keep exploring, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen when I’m finished.”

“And Mrs. Volkov will be here in two hours.”

“Anya, correct?”

“Yes, I’ll leave you to it.”

Erik disappears, and I move on to more rooms. There’s a media room, a rec room, and a formal living room. Upstairs is an informal living room with a huge flat-screen TV. I continue down a different corridor and find guest rooms with ensuites and private bathrooms. There’s a huge common area for hanging out and playing board games.

When I think I’ve seen every inch of the place, I go upstairs to change and notice a room next to our bedrooms. I push the door open to find a turreted room with plush beige carpet and pale green walls. It’s bright, with lots of natural light coming through the windows. I walk around touching white furniture like a dresser, cubbies, and bookshelves close to the floor. I open a door, thinking it’s a closet. Instead, it’s another room connected to this one, possibly for a nanny. Could this be a nursery?

My mind is overwhelmed with the possibility. How long has he been planning for a family, and did he know me before we met? Could he be manipulating the events behind our forced marriage?

I’m conflicted and find it too much of a stretch. He’s done nothing to cause me to distrust him and his actions. He calls me his soul. Tears well in my eye. He wants a wife and a child. I’m wanted. If I can’t find my family, I can have one with him.

I shut the door on the pristine room. It’s personal, it has meaning to me, and now I know he wants a family. Would we live here? My mind is swimming with the possibility of being somewhere permanent.

I slip into our room, change into a warm outfit, and walk down the stairs to meet the staff. Me, with staff. It sounds so weird. I’m giddy and terrified at the same time.

Charlotte is a young woman with vibrant red hair and pale skin. She wears a beige uniform, a white apron, and sensible shoes.

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