Page 126 of Twisted Hearts

“My mother married for duty,” I murmur gently. “For family. Because shehadto. I didn’t want that for you. I…” I look away.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Eilish leans close and kisses my chest. “Tell me. Please.”

I take a breath before turning back to her. “I wanted you to marry me because youwantedto.” My eyes burn as they lock with hers. “Because you loved me,” I growl quietly. “And I wanted to give you the time to maybe, just fucking maybe—”

“I don’t need any more time.”

She leans up on her toes in an instant and crushes her mouth to mine.

“I’ll marry you,” she whimpers fiercely into my lips. “Because I love you.”

30

GAVAN

We stayfour more nights in Paris. Everyone else I send home. But Eilish and I?

We just fucking disappear.

I mean, yes, a lot of those four days are spent fucking—in bed, or the shower, or out on the balcony, making each other explode. But it’s more than that. For the first time in my life, I actually do realcouples shit.

We go out to have fantastic dinners with amazing wine. We take long walks along the Seine and through the Luxembourg Gardens. We do all the stupid tourist shit like selfies under, or at the top of, the Eiffel Tower. Or putting a lock with our names written on it in Sharpie on the Pont Des Arts footbridge over the river.

We do all the museums, eat all the cheese, and drink all the red wine. It just might be the best four days of my entire life.

Eventually, of course, we have to go back to the real world. Still, when the Range Rover pulls up beside my plane on the runway, we’re both grinning like idiots.

We might be going back to the real world, but the real world just got a whole lot better.

The driver is just shutting off the engine when my phone rings.

“Mr. Tsarenko.”

I frown. The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it.

“Who is this?”

“You might want to be alone for this conversation.”

I don’t fucking like this. Ihatebullshit like this. I’m also curious as to how this person even got my goddamn phone number.

I put the phone down and turn to smile at Eilish. “I have to take this. Get comfortable on the plane. I’ll join you in a second.”

“Okay.” She grins, leaning over to cup my face and kiss me softly. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

She slips out of the car, and I allow myself the indulgence of watching her ass as she climbs the stairs to the plane before turning to my driver and raising the partition between us.

“Who thefuckis this,” I growl quietly into the phone.

The man on the other end chuckles chidingly. “Manners, Mr. Tsarenko.” I frown, again trying and failing to place the voice with the Eastern European accent.

“I’m not a fan of games. So if you’re going to play them, whoever you are, this conversation is…is…”

I frown, blinking as my head starts to swim.

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