Page 71 of Cognac Vixen

Instead, he glances up at me. “What did you have in mind?”

I release his wrist and throw my arms wide. “Not getting married in my pajamas is a start.”

He looks me up and down. “I don’t care what you’re wearing. All I need is a signature.”

“And consummation,” I blurt. My face flushes deep red, which I’m actually grateful for. It makes me look every bit the literal blushing bride. It sells my lies.

Mikhail frowns.

“After the wedding,” I explain softly, stepping closer to him. “If I have to do this, I want it to be memorable. I want it to be nice. We should try to start our marriage off on the right foot.”

His mouth twists down even further. “Why would you care?”

“This may not be love, but I still have my dignity.” I lift my chin and press my shoulders back. “I want to shower, clean myself up, and choose something nice to wear. Right now, I’m braless in ripped pajamas. Is that how you imagined your wedding night?”

Mikhail probably imagined his wedding night with torture racks and whips. Or, no—that’s too exciting for him. More likely, it involved joyless missionary sex until he finishes and rolls off of his bride. I’m sure that’s his fantasy.

I don’t plan to fulfill it.

“I suppose not,” Mikhail admits. He considers it for a few more seconds and then nods. “Okay. You can have an hour to get ready.”

An hour.Maybe that’ll be enough.

I’ll be alone and I can text Ivan. I can tell him what is going on. Maybe he’ll have time to rally his forces and stop this. Maybe he—

“But your mom will stay here with you the entire time,” Mikhail adds.

Just like that, my hopes crash and burn.

“I’d be happy to,” my mother says.

There’s some pride in her voice. It must feel nice for her to be useful after so many years spent as little more than a lawn ornament.Is that what I have to look forward to?

I dismiss the thought as soon as I have it. That won’t be me. I won’t give in.

Mikhail stops in the doorway, casting one long look back at me before he closes the door and leaves me and my mother alone.

The air is thick with tension. Somehow, it’s even worse than it was with Mikhail in the room.

I never expected Mikhail to help me. I’ve never had any notions that, in my time of need, he would rise up and save me. But my own mother? Some deep, childlike part of me refused to believe that she would really turn me over to my enemies on a silver platter. Yet that’s exactly what she did.

“Well,” she sighs, clapping her hands together, “I can get your dress out and steam it if you want to get in the shower and—”

“I want a maid to help me,” I interrupt.

“What?”

“A maid,” I repeat. “Um… the woman who served me tonight. I liked her hair. The blonde woman. Maybe she could fix my hair for me.”

My mom frowns. Then recognition crosses her face. “Oh.Oh. No, that won’t work. She’s fired.”

“But she was just here tonight.”

“Until Alexander caught her messing with the security cameras,” she says. “He fired her on the spot. She’s gone.”

My only ally inside the house is gone. My connection to Ivan is wedged so deeply under my mattress it might as well be in Timbuktu. I’m alone. Completely alone.

And I have no idea what I’m going to do.

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