Page 51 of Sweet Deception
“They hate me.”
“I do too.”
I sighed. “No need to remind me.”
He tilted his head. “No one will touch you. Not my grandmother, not anyone. As long as we’re married.”
I let out a breath. “...When?”
“Tomorrow. She wants to know if you’re pregnant.”
His lips twitched. “When she asks, you’ll tell her you’re pregnant.”
“I won’t lie.”
Gleb smirked, voice like silk. “Then don’t say I didn’t warn you when they tear you apart.”
I stiffened. “Maybe if you actually did your husbandly duties, you wouldn’t have to ask me to lie to your family.”
***
The next day came too fast.
We stood before Gleb’s family estate, a towering mansion as cold and imposing as the people inside. I rubbed my arms against the chill in the air, but it wasn’t just the weather making me uneasy.
Gleb adjusted his cufflinks, his expression unreadable. “One more thing. We hate each other.”
I frowned. “I thought we already act like it?”
“Not enough.” His voice was low, measured. “They need to believe you hate me. That I control you. That you obey because you have no other choice.”
“And if they ask for proof?”
“You know how to flinch, don’t you?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
The grand double doors swung open, and we stepped inside. The anteroom was vast, but the air felt suffocating. A cold hush followed us as we entered the grand living room.
Eyes. So many eyes.
They watched me like wolves scenting weakness. Some familiar, some not, but all carried the same quiet menace. I could feel their stares biting into my skin.
Gleb took a seat, spreading his arms over the couch like a king on his throne. I moved to sit beside him.
“Who said you could sit?”
The voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a whip.
I froze. The oldest woman in the room, Gleb’s grandmother. Her eyes were dark, cold, and bottomless.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my stomach tightening.
I cast a glance at Gleb, but he didn’t look at me. Cold. Detached. Just like we planned.
His grandmother’s voice was sharp with disdain. “Just because you are married to Gleb does not mean you are one of us.”
Before I could respond, she turned to Gleb. “Antonio is sick. Severely. He can barely lift a finger now. He was taken west for treatment.”
