Page 45 of Poisoned Vows

As I’d expected, it smells amazing. The kitchen is filled in minutes with the scents of butter, garlic, herbs, citrus, and cooking meat. I bite my lip to keep from making a sound that would let Nikolai know just how much I’m looking forward to the meal.

Gourmet food, a closet full of designer clothes, and a gorgeous man who wants to fuck your brains out? Maybe you really are protesting too much.

It’s the principle of the thing, though. I haven’t chosen to be here. I’ve been forced. And none of this was ever part of what I’d been prepared for. This wasn’t thedeal.

It doesn’t matter what he bribes me with,I remind myself sternly.I’m not giving in.

It’s much harder to remember that when Nikolai slides a blue stoneware plate over to me, refilling my wine before he sits across from me at the island, refilling his own glass as well.

It’s heavenly. The steak has a crust on it of blue cheese and garlic, the mashed potatoes are velvety and creamy, and I thought I hated asparagus—but evidently not roasted like this, with herbs and lemon. I’ve never had a meal like it—it’s even better than what the staff at the mansion made for us or what was catered at our reception—and I end up complimenting him before I can stop myself.

“This is incredible,” I blurt out, and Nikolai looks up at me. I expect a sarcastic smirk, a cutting remark, but he just watches me for a moment, almost as if he’s enjoying seeing me eat the food.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says finally, and I hear myself speak again, even as I’m screaming in my head that I’m supposed to be withdrawn. I’m not supposed to care about any of this shit.

“Why did you learn to cook? It’s not like you don’t have an army of servants waiting on your every need.”There, that last part was better. Deprecating. A little rude. What he’s come to expect from you.

Now Nikolai does smirk, shaking his head as he takes another sip of his wine. “Everyone needs a hobby,” he says with a shrug.

“Yours isn’t pulling off fingernails or something?” I roll my eyes at him, stabbing another piece of asparagus with my fork.

Something flickers across his face that I can’t quite understand. “Well, some days everyone’s fingernails stay intact, and I need something to do,” he says finally, but a little of the humor in his voice is gone.

“Why did you bring me out here?”I might as well just say it. Even if he’s not going to answer.

Nikolai frowns, refilling his wine glass and mine. “It’s a honeymoon, Lilliana. You know, the thing you do after a wedding.”

“So you brought me out here into the middle of nowhere?”

“Is it not nice enough for your refined tastes?” He gives me a challenging look, and I have to admit, he’s got me there. Even this supposedly rustic, isolated cabin is miles beyond what I grew up with. It definitely stretches the bounds of the definition of “rustic.” I’d go so far as to say that it only applies to the aesthetic of the place, not the cabin itself.

“There’s an indoor/outdoor hot tub,” he says after a few moments, taking another bite of his steak. “Why don’t you go upstairs and put on your bikini, once you’re done with your food? I’ll clean up.”

I blink at him. “I didn’t bring one.”

He raises an eyebrow, and I can see that goddamned smirk at the corners of his mouth again. “No? Why not?”

I grit my teeth together to keep from shouting at him. “Remember when you told me you were taking me to a cabin in the woods in the middle of winter? I didn’t pack for a tropical vacation.”

The smile spreads across his face, and I realize I’ve ended up right where he wanted me. “Well, I suppose you’ll just have to skinny dip, then.”

“Or I could go to bed.” I once again regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth, seeing the expression on his face.

“Well, if that’s where you want me, then—”

I glare at him. “I meant to sleep.”

Nikolai laughs. “Oh, you won’t be sleeping for a while, Lilliana. I plan to enjoy as much of the night with you as I can, until we’re both too tired to stay up any longer.”

“Is that supposed to be enticing?”

“It could be if you let it.”

We look at each other from across the table, and Nikolai lets out a long breath. “I’m going to clean up,” he says finally, as we finish our food. “And since you don’t have a swimsuit, you can sit right there until I’m done, and I’ll show you the hot tub.”

It’s clear that I’m not getting a say in how the night goes—not that I really thought I was getting one anyway. I also know I’m going to have to try harder if I want any chance of being out from under his gaze long enough to escape.

I keep sipping the wine while I wait for Nikolai to finish, hoping that a little bit of a buzz from the alcohol will make the night more bearable, and trying not to think about how it feels like I’m seeing a different side to him here. The man who cooked dinner and is currently loading a dishwasher doesn’t seem like the brutal, arrogant Bratva heir that I was introduced to. He seems almost—normal.

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