Page 9 of Savage Beauty

Sasha has freed his hair from its topknot, and he runs his fingers through it, sweeping it back from his face. My anger boils beneath the surface, and I’m frustrated by how infuriatingly attractive I find him, even now.

He takes his phone from his pocket and swipes at the screen.

“Hello?” I say. “What could be so important that you can’t give me your attention right now? You murder my fiancé and get me blind drunk, then walk me hand-in-hand into your fucking surprise engagement party? I sure as hell would remember if you’d mentioned that!”

Sasha says nothing. He holds up his phone, showing me something on the screen. “Here,zolotse. Keep swiping right.”

I take the phone, and for a moment, I don’t understand what I’m looking at.

It’s a picture of me, dressed in the same outfit I wore last night and wearing a veil as if it’s my bachelorette party. I’m standing beside a mock Grecian plinth, and atop it is a shoddy alabaster statue of Cupid. I’m playfully pointing at the cherub’s tiny bare ass and laughing.

“The fuck is this?” I ask, glancing at Sasha. He averts his eyes, and I scroll to the next photo.

Sasha and I, holding champagne glasses. We’re outside, and a pinkish cast of light suggests a neon sign just out of shot, the blur of highway headlamps in the background. I’m laughing as I throw pieces of torn paper into the air.

Suddenly, a rush of memory floods my mind. We were in a limousine, but where were we heading? Somewhere I had been before. I kept saying that we were in serious trouble, and Sasha just laughed it off, claiming it was all a joke. Nothing to worry about. And then I wanted to tear up some paperwork for... Wait.

I swipe my thumb again to reveal another picture. In this one, we stand in front of an enormous neon heart adorned with flowers, but the happiness has faded from my eyes. They look red and puffy, and my smile is long gone. A man in a Hawaiian shirt grins between us, and the pegboard at our feet boldly states, ‘WE GOT HITCHED!’

No.It’s a joke.

My eyes lift to meet Sasha’s gaze, and he hisses through his teeth. “Yep,” he says, his voice tinged with resignation. “You’re my wife. You and I are Mr. and Mrs. Idiot Cliché, and I’m in serious fucking trouble.”

With that, the memories come rushing back.

We had gone to the chapel to cancel the ceremony, and I made a show of dramatically tearing up the forms Marc and I had painstakingly filled out just hours earlier. Sasha took pictures of me goofing around, and I laughed. But then the officiant said it was time, and Sasha had handed over a thick wad of bills. I protested, but he grabbed my wrist, held me by his side, and...the rest is a hazy blur.

I’m married to Sasha Kislev. The man got me inebriated and—

“You mean to tell me you wouldn’t try to sleep with me because I was too drunk, but you had no issue forcing me to marry you?”

Sasha shrugs. “I’m not a perfect gentleman, Josie. Just close.”

I hurl his phone at his head, and he ducks. The phone smashes into the kitchen door and bounces to the ground.

“You fucking asshole!” I scream. “Why did you do that? You can’t do whatever the hell you want! I’m not yours to—”

“Oh yes, you are.” Sasha’s tone is low and even, but the edge is enough to silence me. “I let you slip away from me once, and I was a damn fool to do it. Forcing you into this marriage was an impulsive decision, but now it’s done. Without my protection, you’d be a sitting duck, likely to be slaughtered by the Toscas or anyone seeking to gain favor with them. So whether you like it or not, you belong to me, and you’d better get used to the idea. Your life depends on it.”

I don’t know which of us moved, but suddenly, we’re standing just a foot apart. I hold his stormy eyes with mine, refusing to back down.

“Ihateyou for this,” I whisper. “All it took was one glance across a crowded restaurant, and you crashed into my life and ruined it.”

“You would have been miserable with Marc,” Sasha takes a small step closer. “I won’t hurt you.”

“But I won’t be safe,” I murmur, my voice quivering. “I’m a bratva wife.Yourwife. And you bring trouble wherever you go, don’t you?”

Sasha tightens his jaw, moving toward me until our bodies nearly touch. He takes hold of my chin, his thumb resting against my lower lip.

“Look at me,” he commands.

I haven’t taken my eyes off him throughout this entire exchange, and he knows it. I should stop him, resist his control, but I feel weak, as though he’s moving me like a puppet.

“You don’t have to like me,zolotse,” he continues, his voice a deep rumble. “If it makes things easier, hate me. To be honest, your anger? It turns me the fuck on. But understand this—Iamtrouble. I’ll give you all the trouble you can handle and then some.”

His body presses against mine, his free hand firmly gripping the counter, effectively trapping me in place. “You’re crazy,” I say.

“You bet. But I won’t let anything happen to you, Josie. I promise.”

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