Page 109 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

I had planned on going straight up to the house when I got to land, but my legs and arms complain, so I sit on the beach near the boat dock and stare out into the horizon.

Several little rays of sunlight have managed to break through the riot of clouds above. It’s as picturesque as I’ve ever seen. True paradise.

And yet my eyes keep darting back to the sailboat bobbing just out in the harbor.

Even from here, I can make out his silhouette.

Even from a distance, it’s impressive.

It had taken all my willpower not to gawk at him open-mouthed when he’d been moving around the ship, adjusting the sails.

Everything from his tattooed chest to his washboard abs screamed of strength and power. Everything he did forced me to squeeze my legs together against the rush of desire.

I was trying to be subtle, but I’m pretty sure he caught me staring at him a few times.

It’s the strangest situation of my life—which is saying a lot.

Legally speaking, we’re married, right? But I don’t feel married to him so much as I feel possessed by him.

I can be rooms away, not with range of hearing or seeing. But he’s still in my head—always—his dark eyes piercing through the mask I’ve spent so many years perfecting.

There’s something else that’s been swimming around in the back of my consciousness, too. A feeling that’s new and unfamiliar.

Jealousy.

When we’d been on the plane, I had heard the stewardess talking—no,flirtingwith him—I had felt a sharp pang of jealousy so acute that I couldn’t even deny it to myself.

It infuriated me that she would throw herself at Artem like that. I mean, I had walked onto the jet in a fucking wedding dress!

But that’s insane. I don’t give a shit who Artem flirts with. Who he sleeps with.

Better her than me…

Right?

I push the memory from my head. There’s no point obsessing over something I have no control over.

Frustrated with myself, I stand, dusting the sand off my shorts, and head back to the house and up to my room.

My bikini top is dry already from my few minutes in the sun, so I keep it on, but I shimmy out of my shorts and exchange them for panties and a wrap-around skirt.

It’s getting dark and the house has lit up, casting a warm glow on the floral-patterned walls.

I haven’t really explored the mansion much, mostly because I’ve been so aware of Artem, trying to avoid him and my own complicated feelings for him.

Now, though, I take the time to move through the large open spaces, noticing little details that had evaded me before. Wall sconces like fanned-out palmetto leaves. The delicate linens of the white couches sprawling in all the wide open spaces, inviting me to nap endlessly.

It’s truly a beautiful place, inside and out. I could wander around in here forever.

But when I come across a grand piano in a room overlooking the ocean, I know I’m not going any further.

I move across the room as though I’m in a trance and sit down in front of the sleek black instrument. My fingers are already twitching, desperate for the catharsis that playing has always brought me.

I touch one key. It rings out beautifully into the warm silence of the empty house.

And then I’m off. Another note, another, each flowing into the next like the waves on the beach. I’m creating music, losing myself to the melody.

Forgetting who I am. Where I came from. Why I’m here.

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