Page 58 of Charmingly Obsessed
This marriage is simply another calculated move on his global chessboard.
“I need to walk Aza,” I say, rising from the stool, pointedly checking my battered handbag for anything I might have forgotten. My dignity, perhaps? My sanity? “Thanks, but I’ll eat at Serafima’s. And I need to work on my… our… collection strategy today. I’ll go over the preliminary inventory list you sent, and then you can show me everything stored at that other apartment. The one next to yours, right? And send me Royce’s full schedule when you get a chance – I’ll figure out the best way to prepare. So I can be… on the same wavelength with him. When we meet him.”
I don’t want to look at him. Not directly. I need to focus on concrete actions. On the business. On the deal. Not on the way his damp t-shirt is clinging to his chest. Not on the memory of his hands, his mouth, on my skin.
“Alright. Though, the collection… it can wait a day or two, Diana–”
“No,” I cut him off, a little too sharply. “We need to start. It’s already been three days since… since our arrangement began.”
And I still have no idea how he plans to pay me a salary for this charade. Which I’ll definitely need by the end of the month. If I last that long.
I squeeze my phone tighter in my hand, suddenly on the verge of just… walking away. Turning down the whole insane job, the whole ridiculous marriage. I could find freelance design work online. Easily. No complications. No billionaires with haunted eyes and hands that know exactly how to make me come undone. And I’d get paid upon completion. Simple. Clean. Safe.
“My lawyers from the London office, will call you later today. You’ll need to–”
“I’ll sign everything. Without even looking. Any contract. Any waiver. Non-disclosure agreements. Whatever. They can just send the DocuSigns–”
“…you’llneedto set up,” he raises his voice slightly, overriding my flippant dismissal, his expression turning serious, almost grim, “a contingency insurance policy. And a comprehensive kidnapping insurance plan.” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “And undergo a brief security training session. I’ll explain in more detail tonight. You’ll also have an additional emergency contact number you must provide, someone they can reach out to in case of… abduction. So they won’t… harm you. It must be with you at all times. And by the way,” he frowns, his eyes clouding over, “I’ll need to talk to my security team about your current living situation–”
“Kidnapping?” My voice falters, cracks.
He taps his knuckles restlessly against the cool stone of the island countertop.
He meets my gaze – because I’m finally, finally looking directly at him, my eyes wide with dawning horror – and then suddenly, he’s right next to me.
He moves so fast, so silently, I nearly fall sideways off the chair in surprise.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice urgent, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “Everything is planned out. Standard procedure. Anyone with a certain level of wealth, a certain public profile… they have to prepare for this kind of thing. I’ve been on various international kidnapping watchlists for twenty years. And I’ve only actually been taken once.”
“W-what?”
I push his hand away without even thinking. Then, just as quickly, I grab it again, my fingers clutching his, desperate.
“You were… you were kidnapped?”
“A long time ago, Diana. Ancient history. It’s not worth talking about. You’ll be fine. We’re not going to Mexico, or Colombia, or some other truly dangerous hotspot. Paris is relatively safe. It doesn’t matter. You’ll be fine. But you need to keep that emergency contact information on you. At all times. Tomorrow, my security detail will bring you a special encrypted phone. These people… they hunt for ransom. It’s a business for them. A job.”
“Mykola,” I whisper, my voice trembling, “y-you were… kidnapped?”
I can’t shake the shock. The horror. Everything else – the job, the marriage, Royce, even my own complicated, messy feelings for him – suddenly feels so trivial, so insignificant. God, is this why he changed so much? Why he became so erratic, so haunted?
And here I was, lost in my own stupid, romantic delusions, thinking it was all about me.
I don’t even have time to react, to process, when he lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my knuckles. Then to my palm. His lips move from my hand to my face, finding my mouth, and I freeze – suspended, like hanging from an endlessly stretching, invisible thread, absorbing the force of his mouth, his tongue, his desperate, unspoken need.
It’s too much… every touch, every kiss, every caress is so overwhelmingly, intoxicatingly good that I stiffen, then pull away, needing air, needing space, needing to think.
“A million years ago, back in my reckless, misspent youth. And the actual risk here, for you, is very, very low.” He offers a shaky, unconvincing smile. “So, you’ll have to wait a little longer before becoming a wealthy, grieving widow, my sunshine.”
I don’t see anything remotely funny about this. Not a single goddamn thing.
I pull myself together, forcing a composure I don’t feel. I grab my bag from the counter. “I’ll do everything. The training. The insurance. I’ll wait for the lawyers’ call. And I’ll sign the contracts, of course. Whatever they are.”
Frez doesn’t respond. He just catches my wrist as I start to move towards the door, his grip surprisingly gentle but firm.
“Walday, my head of security, will come by Serafima’s later today. To pick up your passport. They’ll handle all the official paperwork at the registry office, get the marriage certificate expedited. Then he’ll bring it back to you.”
I try to swallow, but my throat is dry, tight.
