Бесплатный фрагмент - Defying Love

Chapter 1. Still met flint

Andrew

With a bored glance, I surveyed the hall of the nightclub while sitting in the VIP area for very important guests. The beauties passing by gave me languid, inviting glances, but none caught my attention enough to invite them to my table.

The loud dance beats that excited the partying crowd and caused them to behave recklessly changed to the notes of a new, gentle melody.

I put the empty glass on the table and was about to signal my bodyguard, Russell, that we were leaving when the spotlight illuminated the stage and highlighted the figure of a beautiful girl. She began to sing, and I froze as if spellbound.

The girl, short in stature, dressed in an open red dress, with long, waist-length jet-black hair and bright scarlet lipstick on her lips, attracted not only my attention. The whole hall seemed to freeze and, holding their breath, listened. The men straightened up and no longer looked as bored as before. “Drooling over the baby, bastards,” I thought, but I was sure they thought the same about me.

The beauty on stage paid attention to no one, closing her eyes and hugging the microphone, she sang the famous “Killing Me Softly” with complete devotion. While her voice was gently floating around the hall, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

When the last words fell silent, the girl opened her eyes, and our gazes met for a moment, then the light on the stage went out, and the vision disappeared.

The dance music beats sounded again, and soon, instead of the enchanting beauty, vulgar dancers appeared on stage, exciting the crowd with their explicit movements.

I couldn’t shake the impression and decided that I must get the singer, at least for this night.

I signaled Russell to come over.

“Mr Andrew.”

“Russ, did you see the singer?” I asked.

“Who didn’t see her?” Russell smirked, not hiding that he was also struck by the girl’s beauty.

“Find her for me. If needed, ask Mark where she is now.”

“I’ll do it,” he nodded and was about to leave, but I stopped him.

“When you find her, invite her to my table, or better yet, tell her that I invite her over for the night. Money is no object, of course. And yes, explain which table I’m sitting at. She saw me and surely remembered me.”

Russell said nothing and didn’t Evan show surprise. I wasn’t prone to whims and didn’t indulge in prostitutes, but I had long ago stopped courting women, much less chasing them. If I wanted to spend a night with someone, I said so directly. As a rule, I nEvar received a refusal. Evar. I was sure this time would go just as smoothly. The girl was beautiful, but she seemed sophisticated and Evan depraved. Her red dress combined with brightly painted lips left no doubt that she would give me a hot night.

In anticipation of the beauty, I ordered another portion of cognac and glanced at my watch. Russell was taking a long time to find her. Surely she’s sitting in the dressing room, or whatEvar they call that place?

Finally, my bodyguard returned. Alone. I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Where’s the girl? Don’t tell me she disappeared and you couldn’t find her,” I said irritably.

“No, I found her. Mark led me to her in the back room.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“She declined.”

“Declined what?” I frowned.

“Evarything,” Russell replied.

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘Evarything’? What did you offer her?”

“I offered to come to your table and discuss plans for the night. I said you were a generous man not just with money. In general, I was convincing.”

“And she?”

“Said she’s not interested in that.”

“Maybe you didn’t explain where I’m sitting. The girl probably thought it was that fat hog over there hitting on her.” I nodded towards businessman, sitting at one of the tables nearby with the same kind of fat cats.

“No, I explained Evarything to her. She also said…”

“What?” I asked irritably.

“Said, ‘Oh, that charming guy with the greasy look.’”

This was definitely not an epithet for me. I don’t have a damn greasy look.

“What else did she say?”

“You’d better not know,” Russell hesitated to respond.

“Speak,” I demanded.

“Tell me,” I insisted.

“She asked: “Doesn’t your boss have the guts to approach a girl, since he sent you? I don’t like cowards.”

“She really said ‘coward’?”

Russell nodded.

“I did explain that you aren’t lacking in guts; you just don’t have time for the usual courting, so you’re being straightforward,” Russell explained.

“And she still refused?”

“Yeah, she basically said that since you’re so businesslike tonight, you can handle things on your own,” he hesitated, and I pressed:

“Out with it, Russ. What else did she say?” The girl had managed to irritate me, and now I was just angry.

“She suggested you take care of it yourself, ‘businesslike’, as she put it. Quicker, cheaper, and you’d save time.”

What a sharp-tongued woman! I tightened my grip on my glass and noticed that my bodyguard looked a bit unsure. It seemed like she might have said Evan more, but I’d heard enough.

“Andrew! It’s been ages!” A voice nearby snapped me out of my thoughts, which had started to spiral into imagining how I’d handle that cheeky singer.

“Mark,” I greeted the club owner with a smile.

I’d known Mark for ages; I wasn’t often at his club, but we shared a friendly, almost close rapport.

“Why do you look so upset?” he chuckled, sitting across from me. “Business troubles?”

“No, work’s all good, thank God.”

“Then it’s a woman, isn’t it?” he laughed.

This guy! Things always seem to go well for him. Always in high spirits. I almost envied him.

“Tell me, who was that singer just now?”

“Great, wasn’t she?” he grinned.

“She was rude to me.”

“Really? That’s surprising, she’s usually polite. Ah!” Mark burst out laughing. “I think I know what your bodyguard was after.” He nodded toward Russell. “That tactic won’t work with Eva.”

“So, her name is Eva?”

“Yeah. Hold on,” Mark leaned forward, “you really should know her. Eva Lozinsky. She’s business tycoon Lozinsky’s daughter. Your dad and he had quite the friendship, I recall.”

“That’s Eva Lozinsky?” I said, surprised.

“The very one.”

“Wow…”

“You’re not acquainted?”

“Not personally, but of course I knew her father.”

I didn’t just know her father. Our families had a very close connection, which unfortunately broke off about thirteen or fifteen years ago when first Lozinsky passed away and then my father. It was a connection that was meant to re-establish because our fathers had decided that I was to marry Eva Lozinsky…

Chapter 2. No Right to Refuse

Eva

I was still fuming, and I couldn’t hide it as I stomped over to my car parked in a secluded spot. I was so fed up with these wannabe masters of the universe. They waltz in, kick back with their legs sprawled and huge guts on display, eyeing up young beautiful women as if they can have anything with a snap of their fingers. This wasn’t the first sleazy offer I’d received, but it was the first in such a downright insulting manner. That man who was practically undressing me with his eyes during my performance didn’t Evan have the spine to approach me himself. Nope, he sent his muscle to suggest I trot over to their table and then hop into his boss’s bed.

“Ugh!” I spat out in disgust, shuddering. “How sickening!”

I sure didn’t hold back and made it crystal clear where “Mr. Andrew could shove his proposal. I hoped the bodyguard would pass my exact words along, but who knows. Fuckboys who love themselves this much need to be knocked off their high horse..

I climbed into my car and was about to start the engine when I saw Tori calling, my best and probably the only real friend, who I could spill all my secrets to.

“I’m so mad right now, you have no idea,” I said into the phone, skipping the greeting entirely.

“You’re gonna be Evan madder when I spill the beans,” Tori replied.

“I seriously doubt I can get any madder.”

“What happened? Did Mark make you not only sing but strip too?” Tori chuckled.

Mark’s joint, simply called “The Club,” had the city’s best strip shows. But Mark didn’t pimp out his girls to the clientele. No private dances, no extra favors “just the stage performances.

“No, but some sleazeball sent his bouncer over with an offer I wasn’t supposed to refuse.”

“But you refused, right?” Tori laughed.

“Oh, you bet. Now he’ll be scraping his stupid ego off the floor. Though, I kind of doubt his goon has the guts to tell him what I actually said.”

“Oh, Eva, someday you’re gonna cross the wrong person, and it won’t be pretty.”

“Let them try. So, what did you want to tell me?”

“Your mom called me.”

Oh, great! Just perfect!

“And?”

“She wanted to know why she couldn’t get ahold of you, where we are, and what we’re up to.”

“And what’d you tell her?”

“What was I supposed to do? I tried lying through my teeth, but I’m not sure she bought it,” Tori sighed.

“What did you end up telling her?”

“Since I couldn’t just hand the phone to you and she was pushing, I panicked and told Helga you weren’t feeling well and I took you to the hospital.”

“Seriously, Tori? Why the hospital?” I groaned.

“Sorry, she was all up in my face and insistent, and I just panicked. You know how your mother can be…”

Oh, surely I do know. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to figure out how to handle my mom once I got home.

“Did she buy it?”

“Seems like it. I said we were at a restaurant and you suddenly got sick. Pretended you got dizzy or something, said you were getting checked out. Made it sound convincing.”

“Oh my God, Tori. Now my mom’s gonna think I’m pregnant or something dramatic like that.”

“Oops, my bad…”

“Alright, I’ll figure it out. Thanks for not spilling where I really was.”

I said goodbye to Tori and promised to call her the next morning.

On the drive home, I mulled over the pending showdown with my mom. She was probably up, fuming, waiting for me to roll in. Maybe I should just call and claim I’m stuck overnight in the hospital and crash at a hotel? No, this is Evan worse than facing mother right now. She’d demand the hospital’s address and might Evan show up there tomorrow. Then the truth would come out. The truth being that my dear mother had no idea where I spent my Evanings sometimes. She hated my music obsession. When I said I wanted to be a singer, she tapped her forehead like I was crazy and sneered::

“The Lozinskys have nEvar sunk so low as to entertain others. Nobody in our family has Evar acted or sung.”

The Lozinskys this, the Lozinskys that. How I hated this snobbishness. And to think, my mom was only a Lozinsky by marriage, yet she acted like she was the queen of the world. Especially over the last few years, when I started having my own opinions, her relentless ambitions and bossiness really reared their ugly heads. Dad passed away six years ago, and Mom decided she had to be the guardian of the family’s moral standards. The entire family of Lozinskys was just her, me, and my eight-year-old brother, Max.

Despite her prohibition, I did it my way — I found a side gig at Mark’s club and sang there from time to time. It wasn’t exactly my dream, but it would do for now. I planned on entering a TV competition, sure that if the jury picked me and the audience loved me, or better yet, if I won, Mom would see she was wrong about me and stop resisting, acknowledging my talent. Tori was all for my quest for fame and helped me keep my club job under wraps from Mom.

As I pulled up to our mansion, it was obvious my hopes that Mom wouldn’t wait up and would be asleep were in vain. The lights were on in the hall downstairs.

No sooner had I entered than she came out to meet me.

“Eva! Finally. Why didn’t you pick up the phone?” she immediately chided.

“My phone died. I just managed to charge it in the car,” I lied.

“What happened to you? Victoria said you were in the hospital. You fainted?”

Mom frowned, clearly annoyed with her “sick” daughter.

“The doctors said my hemoglobin was low, that’s why I got dizzy.”

“Are you sure?” She studied me closely, trying to gauge from my eyes if I was lying.

“Absolutely. I had tests done.”

“And that’s it? Nothing else you want to tell me?”

I shrugged, puzzled, and asked, “Are you hinting at something, Mom?”

“If there’s something I should know, don’t keep it from me…”

“Mom, maybe we could join the 21st century instead of living in the middle of the last one? Time to stop pretending and call stuff by its real name.” I arched an eyebrow, and she shook her head disapprovingly.

“I hope you haven’t been seduced by that… man of yours,” she grimaced with disdain.

“His name is Greg, Mom. And no, he hasn’t, and I’m not pregnant if that’s what you’re so afraid to say out loud,” I said, leaning in to peck her cheek. “I’m really tired, and I’m heading to bed.”

“Alright,” she nodded, her voice tinged with relief.

As I climbed the stairs, I turned back with a smile and said, “By the way, these days, a guy who dates a girl might expect a bit more than just holding hands.”

“Eva, don’t you dare! We’ve talked about this a hundred times. You won’t disgrace the Lozinskys with an illegitimate child.”

“Of course not, Mom. And I’ll walk down the aisle pure as snow, with Evary moral right to wear a white dress,” I smirked. “But I fear no groom will put up with waiting that long. Men today have no patience.”

“If he loves you, he’ll wait,” she called after me. “And if your Greg insists, show him you aren’t like those other girls…”

She went on and on, but I was already tuning her out. My mother was a stunning, modern woman — at least she made that impression at first sight. But this glamorous modern woman held such conservative views on morality that medieval nuns would envy her. It’s a wonder she didn’t insist I wear some kind of chastity belt.

***

I slept until noon. Evidently, Mom beliEvad my “feeling unwell” story and didn’t send anyone, not the staff or Max, to wake me up at last.

After showering and changing, I headed downstairs, hoping she’d gone out on errands. I went straight to the dining room and called for the kitchen assistant.

“Could I get some breakfast?” I asked.

The girl nodded, took note of what I wanted, and left. A minute later, Mom came into the dining room. She wore a dark green pantsuit and Evan had a handbag in hand, meaning she was clearly on her way out.

“Almost lunchtime, and you’re just getting to breakfast,” she couldn’t resist commenting.

“Let’s just call it both breakfast and lunch,” I replied with a smile.

“How are you feeling?”

“W…” I almost said “wonderful,” but quickly remembered that I supposedly got sick yesterday. “Fine.”

“I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided that perhaps you should see our family doctor.”

“No need, Mom, I’m fine. Tori took me to a good hospital yesterday.”

“I still insist.”

“Mom,” I rolled my eyes.

“Alright, we’ll leave it for now. I have important news for you.”

She gave me such a significant look that I knew I wasn’t going to like her news.

“What news?”

“This morning, Andrew Edlin called me.” She paused theatrically and, seeing the confusion on my face, reminded me, “He’s GrGregy Edlin’s son, your father’s friend.”

“And?”

“Andrew said he wants to marry you.”

“What?” My jaw dropped in disbelief. “I’m not going to marry any Andrew Edlin, or anyone else!”

“You’ll have to, dear. The thing is, you don’t have the right to refuse him…”

Chapter 3. The Deal

Andrew

I glanced impatiently at my watch. Mrs. Lozinskaya was late, and waiting had nEvar been my strong suit.

The moment I found out that the infuriatingly captivating singer from the club — the one who couldn’t keep her mouth shut — was actually Eva Lozinskaya, it didn’t take long for me to decide my next step. The Lozinskys and the Edlins went way back — not just as friends, but as partners. What had started as a mutually beneficial partnership years ago had taken an unfortunate turn when Lozinsky Senior hit hard times. He almost lost Evarything, and if it weren’t for my father, he would’ve lost Evarything. My father had helped patch up the holes in Lozinsky’s sinking ship of a business, but he’d done it with a cLeoar agreement that concerned me and Eva. According to the deal, the two of us were to marry in the future, thereby combining not only our businesses but our families as well. This agreement was made about twenty years ago.

Despite the close relationship between Lozinsky and my father, I had nEvar met the man’s wife, let alone his daughter. When my father passed fifteen years ago, I was too young to be thinking about things like marriage, especially a marriage arranged by some formal deal. Eight years back, I had Evan fallen for another woman. I’d wanted to marry her, while Eva was still just a kid at the time. The idea of tying my life to this stranger, the daughter of my father’s friend, had seemed like some outdated relic of the past. Something I could easily ignore. But now, things were different.

I was thirty-five years old. It was time to settle down, start a family. I needed an heir — a daughter, a son, or maybe both. My youthful idealism about love had faded long ago. I didn’t beliEva in mutual affection or romantic attachment anymore. Marriage was simply business — my father had understood this well when he signed that contract with Nikolas Lozinsky. And now, I understood just how right he’d been.

This morning, I called Helga Lozinsky and reminded her that it was time to seal the deal. She seemed surprised, but she quickly agreed. Whether or not her sharp-tongued daughter would be on board was another question, but frankly, what choice did Eva have?

“Mr. Edlin?” A tall, elegant woman walked up to my table.

Helga was forty-four, though she didn’t look it. In fact, she might have passed for younger. She bore little resemblance to her daughter.

I rose in greeting and offered her a seat, sliding the chair out for her.

“Coffee?” I offered.

“Green tea, please.”

A flick of my wrist, and the waitress materialized with our drinks.

“So, you’ve decided to revive the agreement between my late husband and your father,” she said, direct and to the point.

“Were you hoping I’d forgotten about it?” I studied her carefully, looking for a telltale sign — would she try to back out, plead with me to call it off, or simply accept the inevitability of it all?

“No, I didn’t expect you to forget. It’s just… your phone call caught me off guard.”

“There was no reason to bring it up earlier. If I’m not mistaken, your daughter has only just turned twenty-two.”

By the time I’d requested this meeting, I already had all the information I needed about Eva and her mother. My people were very efficient when it came to digging things up.

“Yes, Eva is twenty-two. She’s still so young.”

“Old enough for marriage,” I countered. “If this meeting was arranged to dissuade me, let me save you some time — you won’t succeed. Not unless, of course, you’re prepared to lose Evarything you currently have.” I smiled coldly.

“Oh no, no, you misunderstand me, Mr. Edlin. I had no intention of trying to dissuade you. In fact, I’m quite pleased with the notion of this marriage.” She threw me a meaningful glance and continued. “Eva is young and inexperienced, and you’re a mature, accomplished man. I can’t imagine a better match for her.”

Go ahead. Keep flattering me. You know exactly what’s at stake.

“I actually prefer that she’s young. My priority in this marriage is children.”

“I understand,” Helga nodded. “All I ask is that you don’t rush into the wedding, that you allow her some time to get to know you better.”

“Of course. I’m not saying we need to get married tomorrow, but I don’t intend to wait an eternity either.”

“Convincing Eva won’t be easy. She’s a very independent girl, and…”

“Too independent and poorly brought up,” I cut in, relishing how she stiffened, her expression flickering between shock and confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Unless I’m mistaken, was it on your advice that your daughter took a job at a nightclub? If I’m wrong, my apologies. But since we’ve agreed that this wedding is going to happen, I expect you to have a word with her and put an end to it.”

Helga’s mouth fell open. She looked like a fish yanked out of the water, gasping silently before managing to speak.

“Where… where on earth did you get this information?”

“I saw it with my own eyes.”

“I’ll kill her,” she whispered, her face flushing deep red.

I smirked.

“There’s no need for violence. Just have a talk with her. I don’t want a stripper for a bride.”

“You’re saying that Eva… my daughter…” Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her throat.

“Are you unwell?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she said quickly, grabbing the water glass intended for me — rightfully, since I was drinking espresso — and downing it in one desperate gulp. “Forgive me.”

“No problem.” I allowed myself a slight smile. “Getting back to Eva — no, she’s not stripping on stage, but her behavior and appearance are, shall we say, inappropriate. Let’s just say it leans toward vulgarity. Of course, I’d describe it as sexually provocative, but you don’t need to hear that. All I’m asking is that my future wife’s reputation remains spotless. For now, she only sings, but who’s to say what she might consider doing next?”

“You have my word, Mr. Edlin. She won’t leave the house again until the wedding. I’ll keep her locked up if I have to.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said, allowing my smile to widen. “But no more nightclubs. Now then, since we’ve reached an understanding, I’ll take my leave. Please arrange for Eva and me to officially meet and inform me once you’ve set a date.”

“I’ll take care of it as soon as possible,” she mumbled.

“Until next time, Helga.”

“Goodbye.”

I understood who this woman was the moment she spoke her first sentence. Prim, proud, conservative in her views, and yet strikingly young at heart. A woman utterly terrified of losing the gilded safety net her late husband had left her. That “inheritance,” so to speak, was dwindling fast. Her business was on its last legs, as she was clearly no businesswoman. No doubt, she’d cling to this marriage with the same determination her husband had clung to my father’s help so many years ago. The Edlins had saved the Lozinskys from ruin once, and she was banking on me to do it again.

And I didn’t mind one bit. Merging our companies and taking over as a single powerful conglomerate suited me just fine. This marriage, from a financial standpoint, would benefit the Lozinskys far more than it would me. But still, I’d get something out of it too — a chance to put that spoiled little brat who dared defy me in her place.

Andrew Edlin doesn’t take no for an answer.

Chapter 4. I don’t want to

Eva

I paced the study nervously, waiting for Mom to arrive. Earlier that day, she dropped a bombshell on me, saying I had to marry some guy named Edlin and that I didn’t have the right to refuse. She said she’d explain Evarything later, then just left.

By Evaning, the uncertainty had me crawling out of my skin. I couldn’t Evan talk properly with Tori — my best friend. The most I managed to tell her was that our little lie from the other night had worked and my mom didn’t suspect anything. But, honestly, after I turned my phone off, I started doubting that. Was I too quick to assume she hadn’t figured it out? What if she thought I was spending the Evaning with Greg and that Tori was covering for me? Is that why she suddenly came up with this whole marriage thing? Yeah, that must be it.

Otherwise, how could I make sense of what she said? If she was serious, she’d have sat me down and explained; she wouldn’t have just spat out, “You’re marrying someone” and disappeared.

Almost convinced it was a cruel joke, I retreated to my room. Almost. Because Mother didn’t do jokes. The woman had the sense of humor of a tax audit.

Trying to distract myself from her words, I decided to call Greg. Unfortunately, that didn’t work either. He was at some important conference, presenting something on behalf of his company. Greg was a mid-Leoal manager at a major firm in the city and had big potential. Within three years, maybe less, he’d probably make it to the top ranks. Mom didn’t like him — at all. She was polite about it but very dismissive of our relationship, acting as if it was something trivial and temporary. But I felt differently. I loved him and was sure we’d get married someday.

The door to my room suddenly burst open, and I flinched.

“Mom,” I exhaled.

She stormed in and slapped me before I could say another word.

“Mom!” I gasped, grabbing my cheek, which burned like it had been scalded. “What was that for?!”

“I thought I’d raised a decent girl. I thought I’d nEvar have to be ashamed of you. But your behavior… It’s disgraceful!” she said, her voice trembling with anger.

“What are you talking about?” I asked quietly, though I was pretty sure I already knew: she’d figured out that I was at the club.

“Oh, you felt sick? Victoria had to take you to the hospital? Your hemoglobin dropped?” she fired question after question at me. “I don’t Evan want to think about how many times you’ve lied to me like this. Letting your little friend cover for you while you flaunted yourself in some filthy club!”

“Yes! I was at the club! So what?” I shouted. “I didn’t do anything wrong! The only reason I lied was because you’d nEvar let me sing! But I want to — ”

Another slap cut my words short.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me again,” she said coldly. “You want to sing? You want to dress like some cheap tramp so disgusting men can leer at you — or might Evan put their hands on you? Is that your dream?”

“You know what my dream is,” I said, tears slipping down my cheeks. “And you won’t let me have it. You always stop me from doing anything meaningful, Mom. I’m sick of your rules!”

“Well, then,” she said with a sarcastic nod, “it’s all for the best. Soon, I won’t have to deal with your nonsense anymore. Your husband will.”

“Husband? What husband? What are you Evan talking about?” I felt my heart race. “This is a joke, right?”

“A joke? Oh, no, Eva, this is far from a joke. Sit down.”

She motioned to the chaise at the foot of my bed, and I sank down reluctantly. She sat across from me in an armchair, turning it to face me.

“As I said earlier, I’ll explain,” she began, her tone icy. “Shortly after you were born, your father’s business suffered a series of devastating blows. Nikolas was on the verge of bankruptcy when Gregory Edlin stepped in and saved him. They made a deal, and part of that deal… was you.”

“…Me?” I frowned, not fully understanding but already dreading whatEvar she was about to say.

“Yes.” She nodded firmly. “By the terms of their agreement, your father and Gregory decided that when you came of age, you would marry his son, Andrew Edlin. Your father beliEvad it would benefit both families to seal the union through a dynastic union.”

“A dynastic union!? Are you serious, Mom? What is this, the Dark Ages?”

“Don’t interrupt me.” Her steely glare silenced me. “As I was saying, Gregory Edlin passed away years ago, and his son nEvar pursued the matter with us. Frankly, I was certain he would forget about it entirely — that he wouldn’t Evan want to uphold such an old arrangement. But I was wrong. Recently, Andrew made it clear that he intends to marry you.” She paused. “I was skeptical at first, but I’ve come around to the idea. He’s a wonderful man — wealthy, respectable, kind. He will be a perfect husband for you, Eva.”

My head was spinning. I shook it violently.

“I am not marrying some creepy old man!” I snapped.

“He’s not old,” Mom retorted calmly. “He’s thirty-five. Maybe thirty-six. Handsome, too — and — ”

“I don’t care!” I cried, jumping to my feet. “This is insane! I’m not marrying him, and you can’t make me!”

“Oh, but I can.” Mom stood up; her voice lower yet somehow Evan more menacing. “Listen to me, young lady: you’ve lived a privileged, carefree life for far too long. You’ve had Evarything handed to you on a silver platter, without Evan considering the sacrifices I’ve made to keep our family afloat. Right now, we need Edlin’s money — desperately.”

“Edlin’s money?” My voice cracked as I stared at her. “That’s all this is about? His money? What about my feelings? My dreams? What about Greg? I love him!”

Mom gave me an almost pitying smile as she gently placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Greg is nothing,” she said softly but dismissively. Andrew Edlin? He’s a king. A god. You’ll forget Greg soon enough.”

“I hate you!”

“No.” She stood, adjusting her sleEvas. “You’ll hate me until Sunday dinner. Then you’ll understand this is salvation. For all of us.”

“Sunday?!”

“Yes, Sunday,” she said. Her tone was final. “We’re having dinner with Andrew so you can meet each other properly. I’m doing all of this for your own good, Eva. Maybe you can’t see it now, but one day, you’ll understand.”

She turned to leave.

“I’ll nEvar understand. And I’ll nEvar marry him!” I screamed after her.

Her response was the soft click of the door closing behind her. I collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down my face.

Andrew Edlin. That name echoed in my mind like a curse.

“God, no,” I whispered.

Was it a coincidence? That name… It matched what the brute at the club had said yesterday: an “offer from his boss, Andrew…”

Coincidence? Sure.

And the fact that my mom somehow suddenly found out about the club? Also, a coincidence?

No.

This bastard got rejected and then, realizing who I was, decided to come at me like this? What a vile, petty little man.

“You bastard,” I whispered.

There was no way I was going to marry him. Not in a million years.

This wouldn’t be a marriage.

It would be a war.

Chapter 5. You’re Too Old

Andrew

“I want more champagne,” cooed Karen as she slipped out of bed.

She wasn’t wearing a thing, and I lazily ran my eyes along her figure. Her ass was too big. I noted it again, just like I had so many times before, and grimaced. Karen turned at that exact moment and caught the look on my face.

“What’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have pumped all that crap into your backside.”

She rolled her eyes.

“That sounds disgusting. Where are your manners, Mr. Edlin?” she quipped with a smirk, dragging an open bottle from a bucket of ice and filling her glass. “Want some?”

“No, I’ve had enough of it.”

And not just the champagne. Most of all, I’d had enough of Karen. I was done.

Sitting up in bed, I started to get dressed.

Karen was watching me, sipping her champagne, while I kept sneaking glances at her. Her chest — fake. Her ass — fake. Her lashes — extensions. Her brows — permanent makeup. The only thing left that still reminded me of the woman she had been three years ago were her lips. She hadn’t touched them only because I once said, “Mess with your face, and we’re done.”

Getting out of bed, I zipped my pants and reached for my shirt.

“Why are you getting dressed?” Karen asked. “Want me to undress you again?”

“I’m leaving,” I said.

“So early? I thought you’d stay until morning.”

“You don’t understand, Karen. I’m leaving for good.”

I looked her straight in the eyes and saw her mouth fall open in mild shock.

“What do you mean ‘for good’? ” she finally managed, glancing around for her clothes.

Spotting a sheer silk robe draped over a chair, I grabbed it and tossed it to her.

“It means we’re done. Our relationship is over.”

“And you’re telling me this so… casually?” Karen frowned, tying the sash of her robe at her waist.

“How else do you expect me to say it? Should I have announced it on TV or thrown a farewell party?” I smirked.

“Wait,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, “so you just had sex with me in Evary way imaginable, and now you’re telling me it’s over?” The sudden hysterical note in her voice made me cut her off immediately:

“Don’t you dare start screaming.”

“I wasn’t going to scream, Andrew, but…” She gritted her teeth and hissed through them. “You could’ve told me you wanted to leave before getting into bed with me.”

“If I’d told you earlier, there wouldn’t have been any sex. And I wanted to have some.”

“What a selfish bastard you are, Edlin!” she finally yelled anyway.

“Don’t start, Karen. You’ve always known we were nEvar a ‘couple’ in the way you women like to fantasize about it.”

“But we’ve been together for three years.”

“And those three years have run their course.”

I pulled my jacket from the chair and put it on.

“Why?” Karen asked, stepping toward me. But I stepped back, holding up a hand to stop her. I didn’t need her clinging to me or trying to hold me back.

“I’m getting married,” I said with a shrug.

“Married?” Her eyes widened in shock. “Did I hear you right?”

“You did. I’m getting married, which means I can’t keep seeing you anymore.”

“And who are you marrying?”

Karen returned to the table, poured herself another glass of champagne, and downed it in one gulp.

“You don’t know her, so her name won’t mean anything to you,” I replied.

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure.”

“Why her? Why not me, Andrew? We have such a good thing going…”

“All good things come to an end,” I said, drawing out the words.

“Cut the clichés,” she snapped. “Answer the question.”

“Which question? Why I’m not marrying you?”

“Yes. I spent three years of my life on you, thinking — ”

“Then you’re a fool. Sorry to be blunt,” I interrupted her. “I made it clear from the very beginning that you shouldn’t count on any future with me. Did you think I was joking?”

“No, but…”

“No buts, Karen. You’re a kept woman. I’m not the kind of man who marries someone like you, hoping she’ll magically turn into something more.” I saw her lips tremble with hurt, her eyes filling with tears. “You asked for an answer, and I’m giving you one,” I added.

“So, the great and powerful Andrew Edlin won’t marry a kept woman but will marry some…” She trailed off, searching for words, but stopped herself before spitting out something too insulting. Instead, she bit her lip.

“I’m marrying a young girl who can give me heirs. Sorry, Karen, but you’re thirty-three. Evan if I ignored Evary other reason, age is something you can’t change — you’re too old for me.”

“You bastard!” she screamed, grabbing the champagne bottle and hurling it at my head.

I ducked, shaking my head.

“You shouldn’t get so angry. I’m just being honest.”

“Go to hell with your honesty, Andrew!”

“I’m on my way,” I said with a grin.

Walking over to Karen, I wrapped an arm around her waist and whispered in her ear:

“The apartment, of course, will stay yours — you don’t need to worry about that. I’ll tell my lawyer tomorrow to formally transfer it to your name. And once you’ve cooled down, send me a message about what kind of parting gift you’d like to make up for the three years you spent on me.”

“Don’t leave me, Andrew,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I don’t need anything, just you.”

“That’s not true, Karen, and we both know it.”

I gently removed her hands from around my neck and kissed her forehead.

“I love you,” she said.

“Of course, you do,” I replied, my voice dripping with irony. “Don’t take too long deciding on the gift. Once I’ve set a wedding date, my offer will expire. Goodbye, Karen.”

I saluted her, then walked out of the apartment.

Maybe other men wouldn’t end things with a mistress for the sake of an arranged marriage, but I wasn’t going to carry any dirt — literal or figurative — into my family or, more importantly, into my marital bed.

Tomorrow, I’d be meeting my future bride…

Chapter 6. I’m Not Ready

Eva

When I called Tori and told her about Mother’s insane plan, she didn’t beliEva me at first. Then, once convinced, she immediately started brainstorming ways to get me out of this mess.

“I’ve heard of Andrew Edlin. Seen him at a few galas,” she said. “He’s gorgeous.”

“He could be Adonis himself — I’m not marrying him,” I hissed.

“Then we need to make him reject you,” Tori declared. “But how?”

“Play dumb?”

“Better yet, pretend to be the kind of girl who’s ‘easy.’ I’ve heard Edlin’s a perfectionist and can’t stand vulgarity.”

Both Tori and my mother spoke about him in such an awe-struck way that I got curious to see this testosterone miracle with my own eyes. There wasn’t much about him online — ridiculously rich, owner of a huge corporation, and on the list of the country’s wealthiest people. No scandals, no CourchEval parties. Handsome, though — I’d noticed that much at the club. But what did I care? I’d sooner marry a cactus than Andrew Edlin.

After talking to my friend, I considered how to make Edlin decide against marrying me from the very first look. A garish dress? Clown-red lipstick? Slurring my words like a drunk? Tori swore it’d send him running.

After some thought, I dismissed the idea of pretending to be someone I’m not. Why should I? I’d just be myself and tell him straight out that I wasn’t going to marry him. And Evan if my mother slapped me another hundred times, she wouldn’t be able to force me.

Ten minutes before I had to go downstairs, where my mother was waiting for me in the lobby, Greg called.

“My little one, I’m coming back to the city tomorrow.”

“Thank God,” I sighed in relief.

I beliEvad that with Greg by my side, Andrew wouldn’t Evan be a problem anymore. Honestly, this wasn’t the time to tell Greg that I’d been promised to someone for years and that my fiancé had suddenly decided to claim me. I’d explain Evarything once we met.

“Shall we meet?” Greg suggested, and I could tell from his voice that he was smiling broadly.

“Of course,” I smiled back.

“Maybe I’ll book a room at a cozy hotel? Or should we just go to my place?”

“N-no, Greg. I’m...not ready yet,” I stammered, embarrassed.

“Eva, my darling,” he said gently, “we’ve been together for almost eight months, and there hasn’t been anything between us except kisses.”

“I’m not ready,” I repeated firmly. “Sorry.”

“I understand,” Greg sighed, but there was a slight tension in his voice. “But you need to understand, too — I’m not made of stone. I love you madly and… want you madly. It’s only natural when two people have feelings.”

“I know, Greg, but… let’s just meet tomorrow. I miss you.”

“And I miss you too. I love you.”

“And I love you,” I said with a sigh, but my sigh came out too heavy, and Greg caught the sadness behind it, asking:

“Is Evarything okay?”

“Not really,” I admitted.

“Your mother again?” he guessed.

“Something like that. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

We said our goodbyes, and I turned off my phone.

Greg was becoming increasingly impatient, and I couldn’t blame him. He was a grown, healthy man. He wanted more than just dates, kisses, and hugs. I couldn’t say I didn’t want the same. I was sure that I loved him. But my mother had drilled it into me from a young age: you could only sleep with your husband.

“One step from premarital sex to becoming a harlot,” she would repeat constantly.

And then there were her dire warnings:

“BeliEva me, I’ll know immediately if you sleep with someone, and if I find out, your father will too. You know what he’ll do!”

Mom used to scare me with my father’s wrath. Funny thing is, he nEvar talked to me about things like that and nEvar expressed any dissatisfaction with me. Father was much softer and more forgiving than my mother, but it was the fear of disappointing him that was the most powerful. I was terrified of falling in his eyes because he loved me so intensely.

Mom didn’t just threaten me with my father’s anger but also with sin, hell, fire, and brimstone.

Evan now, I didn’t fear any of that. I’d grown up and realized she had been a master manipulator of my teenage mind, but the fear of “Egyptian plagues” lingered in my subconscious, keeping me from fully opening up and deepening my relationship with Greg.

“Eva! What’s taking you so long?” My mother’s voice pulled me back from my thoughts.

Grabbing my handbag, I went downstairs.

Mom gave me a critical once-over. I had chosen a modest outfit for the dinner — a conservative dress with short sleEvas and a full skirt that ended just below the knee. The beige top paired perfectly with the chocolate-brown skirt. Mom pursed her lips. That meant she approved. She was always stingy with compliments, so the absence of criticism could be considered praise.

“I’ve been waiting long enough, and we’re already late,” she said.

“I was talking to Greg,” I said, unnecessarily explaining myself — and regretted it immediately.

“I hope you told him that it’s over between you two?”

“Why would I?” I arched an eyebrow.

“Because you’re getting married soon,” she retorted.

“That’s not settled yet,” I snapped back.

“It is settled.”

“I’m not marrying a man I don’t know or love.”

“I’m not going to argue with you, Eva. There’s no time for that anymore. And it’s pointless.” She turned and walked towards the exit.

“Exactly,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

We got into the car, and the driver took us to the restaurant where Andrey Edlin was already waiting for us. My hands shook. Not from fear — from fury.

Let him try.

Chapter 7. The Meeting

Andrew

I stood up as the maître d’ escorted two women to my table. Helga Lozinsky greeted me with a warm smile, while Eva shot me a look filled with pure hatred. Seeing her now, under the bright lights of the restaurant — where the shadows and the moody glow of nightclub fixtures no longer created an illusion of mystery and allure — I fully appreciated how stunning she truly was. For a moment, I felt reassured that my decision to uphold the old agreement between our fathers hadn’t been made in haste. This was exactly the kind of woman I wanted to see as my future wife.

“Andrew, may I introduce my daughter Eva,” Helga said with a polite smile.

“A pleasure,” I replied politely, keeping my eyes fixed on Eva.

“Can’t say the same,” Eva muttered coldly, though it was painfully obvious her iciness was forced. Beneath the surface, she was seething.

“Please, have a seat.” I gestured toward the chairs.

Once they were seated and the menus were handed out, Eva buried herself in hers, making it clear she intended to ignore both her mother and me. After we placed our orders, I decided to cut to the chase.

“Helga, may I call you that? No need for unnecessary formality between us.”

“Of course, Mr. Edlin,” she said with a polite smile.

“Good. So, Helga, have you explained everything to Eva yet? About the agreement between our families and the role she’ll play in all of this?”

“Of course. Eva knows everything,” she said, glancing nervously at her daughter, clearly anticipating an outburst.

Eva didn’t keep her waiting. Folding her arms across her chest, she looked me dead in the eye and said, “And you, Andrew, do share with the class, Andrew darling what made you dust off that relic of a contract?”

“What’re you talking about?” Helga frowned.

“Yeah, what exactly are you implying?” I chuckled, leaning back in my chair.

“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. A couple of nights ago you tried to pick me up at the club, and you got exactly what you deserved.” She gave a wickedly triumphant smile and turned to her mother. “Can you believe it, Mom? The ‘perfect’ fiancé you’re trying to shove down my throat offered to pay me to spend the night with him! And clearly, I wasn’t the first, either. Who is this man you chose for me? A sleaze? A pervert? God knows what diseases he’ll saddle me with if — ”

“That’s enough!” Helga cut her off sharply. “Thanks to Mr. Edlin — ”

“You can go ahead and just call me Andrew,” I interrupted with a smirk. “We’re practically family now, aren’t we?”

“Thanks, Andrew,” Helga hissed through her teeth before turning back to Eva. “Thanks to Andrew, I’ve found out all about your disgraceful job at the club!”

“Oh yes, clearly I should be thanking him,” Eva spat, eyes blazing.

“Funny you mention that,” I smirked. “See, Edlin’s bride-to-be doesn’t do dive bars. Consider your little singing career over.”

“I don’t take orders from you!” Eva snapped, no longer making any attempt to disguise the seething tempest inside her. “And I’m not marrying you! I don’t care what contracts our fathers signed some million years ago. I actually have a fiancé, by the way!”

“Eva!” Helga started to scold her.

“What, Mom? What? If you want this marriage so badly, why don’t you marry him? He’s closer to your age, anyway!”

She shot up from her seat, yanked her purse off the back of her chair, and accidentally sent the chair clattering to the floor. The sound echoed across the quiet restaurant, and I heard the murmurs of the other diners as a dozen curious eyes turned to gawk at us.

“Such fire, Eva,” I said lazily, tilting my head with a faint smirk.

“Screw you!” she spat at me.

“Sit down!” Helga hissed in a furious whisper.

“And screw you, too!” Eva shouted back before storming out of the restaurant.

Helga made a move to follow her, but I held up a hand to stop her.

“There’s no need,” I said calmly.

“I’ll bring her back.”

“This changes nothing. Eva is exactly as I imagined her.”

Helga slowly sank back into her chair. The dazed waiter, who had been lurking nearby in the aftermath of the chaotic outburst, cautiously approached and asked if he should still bring out the food. I nodded.

“Forgive me. I’ll speak with Eva when we’re home,” Helga said, still clearly shaken by her daughter’s outburst.

“The girl’s pissed? Sure. But you being this stupid? That takes effort.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you’d bothered to tell her about the deal, we wouldn’t be cleaning up your mess now.”

“I thought — ”

“You assumed the bill would never come due. How… optimistic.” I let out a dry chuckle. “But you see, in this case, there is a price to pay. My interest lies in your daughter, not your stagnant assets, Helga. I’m well aware of how poorly you’ve managed your late husband’s firm. Handing over the business won’t cover even half the debt. You’ll liquidate everything — stocks, jewels, properties. No more designer labels, no five-star resorts, no elite school for your precious son.” I paused. “You might even need to get a job. Some middling manager at a third-rate company. Eva? She can croon at weddings. Your boy? Well… let’s hope he’s a self-starter. Correct me if I’m wrong, of course. Can you actually repay what your husband owed my family? With interest?”

“Stop it, Andrew,” she whispered, pale with panic as she took a deep drink of water — at least from her own glass this time.

“She will marry me without unnecessary hysterics, and you’ll stay in the lap of luxury you’ve grown accustomed to.”

“I’ll make sure she agrees, I promise you,” Helga said desperately.

“Good.” I nodded and turned my attention to the meal.

I knew Helga would manage to get through to her daughter, no matter how much resistance Eva put up. I didn’t care what Eva thought of me. All I cared about was having her for myself, permanently. The Edlins always got what they wanted.

“By the way, who’s this fiancé she mentioned?” I asked casually.

“Oh, nothing — just nonsense,” Helga mumbled quickly.

“Nonsense, is it?” I said, smirking as I leaned forward. “Well, why don’t you tell me more about this nonsense?”

Chapter 8. Grow up!

Eva

“This is horrible! Absolutely horrible!” I complained to Tori as we sat across from each other at the café. I’d come straight here from the restaurant, my chest still burning with frustration. “Can you believe it? My mother is seriously trying to marry me off to that unbearable man! And he, oh, he behaves as if it’s the most natural thing in the world — to demand a complete stranger for a bride just because his father said so”

Tori raised an eyebrow and let out a sharp laugh, sipping on her coffee.

“He’s just pissed you rejected him at the club, Eva. That’s all it is. He’s being vain. You should try to handle this whole Edlin mess without your mom involved. Honestly, I think she’s making it worse.”

I leaned forward, frowning. “And how on earth am I supposed to do that?”

“Talk to him. Alone. Apologize for what happened at the club, and maybe just maybe — he’ll drop this whole charade.”

My jaw dropped, incredulous. “You think I should apologize? To him? Are you serious right now?”

Tori smirked. “What, you’d rather let him keep turning the screws while your mom plays puppet-master? Listen to me. He’s doing this just to get under your skin. You humiliated him, and now he knows you’re the same girl his daddy planned to marry him off to since you were kids. The guy sees this as payback.”

“And you think saying ‘sorry’ will magically make him forget this marriage nonsense?”

“If apologies don’t work, just blow him,” Tori laughed. “Guaranteed to sweeten his mood.”

“Yeah, no. Not happening.” I grimaced. I glared at her as she burst into laughter, completely unfazed. “Oh, please don’t look at me like that, Eva. You know I’m kidding. Sort of.

“Where do you even get this stuff?” I groaned, shaking my head in disgust at her jokes.

“Time to shake off that ‘good girl’ sand your mom dumped on you and go wild,” she winked.

“Greg actually suggested we spend the night at his place or a hotel,” I admitted.

“And?” Tori’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, clearly entertained by my hesitation.

“I’m… scared.”

“Jesus, Eva. You’re twenty-two! Drink some champagne, loosen up, and let Greg rock your world. How’s he even put up with this for so long?”

“Maybe because he loves me?”

Tori rolled her eyes. “When a man’s in love, it makes him even more desperate, trust me.”

I left the café more anxious than ever, unable to keep Tori’s words out of my mind. God, was she right? Could things with Greg really work if I loosened up? No — my head was all over the place. I couldn’t even think about Greg right now. Not until I dealt with the Edlin problem. This marriage — that ridiculous arrangement my mom was trying to force — had to stop, once and for all.

The next morning, I resolved to go see him and make everything crystal clear. I wasn’t going to marry him. Not now. Not ever.

But before I could make any plans, my mother barged into my room that evening, her eyes blazing with anger. I was lying in bed, scrolling through my texts with Greg, when she stormed in, her heels practically stabbing holes into the carpet.

“How dare you make a scene at the restaurant?!” she hissed like a fury.

“Oh, so your precious Andrew wanting to rent me like a hooker didn’t bother you, but my ‘little scandal’ did?” She froze, her lips tightening into a thin line. I lifted my chin defiantly and stared her down, daring her to respond.

“What else would a man think of a girl who parades herself in clubs?”

“I sing. There’s a difference.”

“In a nightclub, Eva! Could you degrade yourself more?”

Her words struck me like a slap. God, why did every conversation with her feel like a war?

“Maybe if you hadn’t crushed my dream of singing on a real stage, I wouldn’t have had to take a job at a club, Mom!”

I didn’t mean to shout, but the words were spilling out before I could stop myself.

My phone buzzed in my hand, but before I could check it, she lunged forward, snatching it from my grasp like a snake striking its prey.

“I can’t wait to finally have you over tomorrow…” she read aloud, her eyes narrowing. “What is this?”

“A text message,” I said, trying to snatch my phone back, but she held it out of reach.

“It’s called a text message.”

“You’re going to his home?”

“Why not?”

“You won’t.” Her lips trembled with rage.

“Watch me. I’m twenty-two. Or did you ‘save’ me for Andrew all these years?” I smirked. “Pretty sure a man who picks up girls in clubs won’t care.”

“Enough of that tone,” she bit out.

I took a deep breath, lowering my voice just slightly. “I’m not marrying Edlin, Mom. I want — ”

Her laughter was bitter, almost hollow. “You’ve spent your entire life saying ‘I want this’ and ‘I don’t want that.’ Have you ever stopped to think about anyone but yourself, Eva? Can’t you see what I’ve done for you?”

“What are you even—

She cut me off, slamming her hand on the bedside table. “Don’t interrupt me. You don’t know the first thing about what I’ve sacrificed for this family. Your father left us drowning in debt, Eva. Everything you take for granted — this house, the clothes on your back, the vacations — it was all saved by one deal. The Edlin family owns us, Eva. Their money saved your father’s company. And now, it’s time to pay what we owe.”

“So marrying me off to their son is your solution?”

Her face twisted in frustration. “There is no other solution. If you don’t marry Andrew, they’ll take back everything. We’ll lose the business. The house. Everything. Does Max deserve that?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the stomach.

“So… I’m supposed to destroy my life so Max doesn’t have to change his? That’s not fair!”

“Fair?” she laughed bitterly. “Life isn’t fair, Eva. It’s time you grew up and realized that.”

She stormed out, leaving me alone with my thoughts, the silence deafening.

Chapter 9. Ruthless

Eva

That morning I headed straight to Edlin’s office. His corporation took up an entire skyscraper in the city center, and by the time I fought through the traffic to get there, I had cursed everything under the sun. I’d wanted to get there before the workday started, but I was hopelessly late. The office drones were already rushing around the vast, echoing lobby, where two receptionists sat at a brightly lit desk, looking polished and professional.

With determined steps, I approached one of them.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” she asked politely, her tone sweet but rehearsed.

“I need to see Mr. Andrew Edlin. Is he in?”

“Yes, he’s in, but he’s only seeing people with appointments,” she said with a polite smile that exuded thinly veiled condescension. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” I replied firmly, “but he’ll see me.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “I’m not so sure…”

“Just tell him Eva Lozinsky wants to speak with him.”

“Alright, one moment.”

The receptionist called up to his office, glancing at me with faint curiosity as she waited for a reply. Less than two minutes later, I was on my way to the top floor of his shiny, soulless tower — a place that embodied everything I despised: steel, glass, cubicles crammed with employees, meetings, endless paperwork, business suits, ties… It was unthinkable to me to live this kind of life. Mother had disapproved of my dream to become a singer, but the thought of working in an office or pretending to be a businesswoman like her was even worse. And given how poorly Father’s company was doing, her act was clearly just that — an act. Sitting at home doing nothing wasn’t an option either.

When I arrived at the top floor, Andrew’s assistant greeted me and asked me to wait. She gestured politely to a sleek leather chair and offered me coffee as though she were doing me a favor.

“Mr. Edlin is tied up at the moment,” she explained. “He’ll see you shortly.”

What a bastard. I was certain he was stalling on purpose, coming up with imaginary tasks just to make me sit and wait.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty. Still nothing. Every time I asked, the response was the same — polite but maddeningly vague:

“Please be patient. Mr. Edlin will let you know as soon as he’s free.”

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Is he in there alone, or does he have someone with him?” I asked, irritation clear in my tone.

“He’s busy,” came the smooth reply.

Forty minutes later, my patience snapped.

“That’s it, I’m done.”

I shot up from my seat and marched straight to Edlin’s office, ignoring the assistant’s protests. Without knocking, I flung the door open, just as he looked up at me with mild surprise.

“I am done waiting,” I said flatly.

“Ah, Eva. So impatient,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair.

“Impatient? I have the patience of a saint, Mr. Edlin,” I shot back, my voice sharp with irritation.

“Chloe, leave us,” he said, addressing his assistant without looking away from me. She slipped out without a word, closing the door behind her. “Sit down, Eva,” he added, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

I stayed standing, my arms crossed over my chest. His desk was immaculately clean — so clean, in fact, that I doubted he’d been doing any real work at all.

“So,” he started with a faint smirk, “what brings you here so early in the morning? Looking for a job?”

“Don’t play dumb; you know exactly why I’m here.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?”

“I’m here to talk about this ridiculous marriage idea.”

“It’s not ridiculous to me,” he replied smoothly.

“Well, it’s very ridiculous to me.”

I held his gaze, and of course, he didn’t look away. His eyes were dark green, flecked with amber, and he watched me the way all self-assured men do — like he was used to getting exactly what he wanted, like he almost never lost. Hard, unrelenting, even ruthless.

“Listen,” I began, my words spilling out before I’d even had the chance to second-guess them. “I get that you’re still bitter about me turning you down that night, but forcing me into a marriage because of it? That’s insane. And stupid. Why would you want to marry someone you barely know?”

His lips twisted into a small, humorless smile. “Quite the outburst,” he commented dryly. “But pointless.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” I was on my feet now, pacing angrily. “Is this because you’re just that desperate to sleep with me? Fine! Let’s sleep together and call the whole wedding off.”

“Wow,” he said, letting out a low chuckle. “Is that why you’re here? With a business proposal like that, does your mother know you came to see me?”

“What’s my mother got to do with anything?” I shot back. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“What, you’re suggesting we do it right here, in my office?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow in amusement.

“Honestly? I don’t care where it happens.”

His smirk widened. “Such passion, Eva. It’s refreshing, really. I like a woman who burns hot — though only in bed. In public, my wife will behave with grace and decorum.”

I ignored his bait, refusing to give him the satisfaction of riling me further. “Are you going to take me seriously, or are we done here?”

“Sit down,” he said, his tone suddenly firm.

“I’m not sitting,” I retorted.

“Sit,” he repeated, his calm demeanor laced with quiet authority. Hesitant, I sank back into the chair, glaring at him the entire time.

“The way I see it, Eva,” he said, resting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together, “it would indeed be foolish to marry someone purely for physical reasons.”

“Finally!” I sighed in relief. “So you do understand why this marriage is a terrible idea.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned. “I’m not finished. You’re right — at first, I was annoyed that some nightclub singer had the nerve to refuse me so rudely. But then Mark mentioned that you were Eva Lozinsky.”

“And that’s when you decided to punish me for it by forcing me into a marriage,” I bit out.

“Don’t interrupt,” he said curtly, his irritation flickering just enough to remind me who was in charge. “It’s rude — and it doesn’t reflect well on the upbringing your mother so painstakingly provided.”

I opened my mouth to snap back but caught the warning in his gaze — Go ahead, bark at me like a spoiled brat. See what happens. He was daring me to lash out. I bit my tongue and forced myself to stay silent.

“You see, Eva,” he continued, “your family has owed mine a great deal for a long time. A marriage between us was something both our fathers agreed on years ago. I’d planned to wait another year or two before bringing it up, but after our… encounter… at the club, I decided there was no reason to postpone any further. I’m thirty-five. Time to settle down.”

“Oh, come on! You’re really telling me that you can’t find anyone else? Are women everywhere refusing you?”

“I don’t need ‘women,’ Eva.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, steady pitch. His scent wrapped around me — subtle, expensive, and unexpectedly intoxicating. Most men’s colognes repelled me. His did the opposite.

“I need a wife. A wife from a respectable family. Someone who knows how to carry herself in public. Someone who understands what’s at stake and won’t embarrass me.”

“I will NEVER marry you!” I hissed through gritted teeth, leaning forward until we were only inches apart. “Never! I’m in love with someone else!”

“And you can love whoever you want,” he shot back, his tone infuriatingly matter-of-fact. “But you’ll still marry me.”

I froze when his eyes drifted to my lips, and a sudden wave of heat rushed through me. Why the hell was my body reacting like this? I pulled back sharply, hoping he didn’t notice the flush creeping up my neck.

“Arrogant, insufferable… Turkey!” I stomped my foot. “I hate you!”

With that, I bolted for the door, ignoring the stunned stares of his assistant and anyone else who might’ve seen me storm out. The second I was outside, I grabbed a deep, cooling breath, my feet carrying me aimlessly down toward the riverwalk.

Did he really think repeating “you’ll marry me” like a mantra would make me obey? Wrong, Mr. High-and-Mighty Edlin. I already had a plan to escape this farce.

Chapter 10. Let’s Get Married!

Eva

My meeting with Edlin had shattered what little composure I had left. Now, I couldn’t even bring myself to think of him as Andreц in my own head. He was a selfish, ruthless bastard who terrified me and yet… drew me in. As I drove away from his office, his face kept flashing in my mind — that piercing, mocking gaze, those perfectly sculpted lips, those strong hands with long, elegant fingers. God, those hands. I’d always noticed men’s hands, and his were impossible not to admire. Hell, he was impossible not to admire. The man exuded power and superiority like it was his damn cologne. But the circumstances of our “arrangement” ruined any appeal he might’ve had.

“Damn him!” I swore aloud.

I wasn’t usually this impulsive. Mother had trained me well to lock my emotions away, to never let them show. But Edlin — no, not Andreц, that snake — made me lose all control. He made me burn.

At the spa, I tried to push thoughts of my unwanted fiancé aside and focus on Greg. Greg. The man my heart truly wanted. We’d met at a café while I waited for a perpetually late friend, and he’d stopped by during his lunch break. One smile. That’s all it took. I’d told Mother about him months later, and of course, she’d asked his last name, his job, his family — then declared him a waste of my time. I’d ignored her. Now, Greg was my only hope to escape this farce of a marriage.

That evening, I drove to his apartment in a far away district of the city — a two-hour trek to a building, though relatively new, it seemed run-down to me. A dim light bulb in the eLeoator and its creaking as it carried me to the fourteenth floor both unsettled me.

The second the eLeoator doors clattered open and I stepped out, Greg swung open the door to his apartment.

“Eva, sweetheart!” Greg pulled me into a hug, his lips finding mine. I clung to him, breathing in his familiar scent — except… it didn’t feel familiar anymore. My traitorous mind conjured another man’s cologne instead. Damn you, Edlin.

“Come in,” Greg urged, and I stepped inside, glancing around.

“Cute,” I said. The furniture was sparse but tidy.

“It’s rented,” he shrugged. “Even the couch isn’t mine. Easier this way.”

“I thought you owned this place.”

“I’ve got a flat near Heritage Green, but living with my parents isn’t ideal, and the commute’s brutal.”

“Ah.”

Mother’s voice hissed in my memory: “What can he offer you? A shoebox in Saltbox Row? If you’re lucky, it’ll be his — not rented. Or maybe a 30-year mortgage? Or is he after your money?”

I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away.

“Let’s go to the kitchen,” Greg invited.

Candles flickered on a set table.

“Dinner by candlelight?” I laughed.

“I tried. But the food’s takeout — I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

We sat. Greg poured wine, but I waved it off.

“I’m driving.”

“So you’re not staying.” Disappointment dripped from his words.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” His brow arched.

“Can’t,” I insisted — then blurted: “Mother’s forcing me to marry someone.”

Greg froze. “Is this a joke?”

“Wish it were.”

“What do you mean, ‘forcing’? Since when don’t you decide for yourself?”

“Turns out, years ago, my father made a deal with his friend. I’m ‘promised’ to Andrew Edlin.”

“Andrew Edlin?” I nodded. “Wait — the diamond mining Edlin?”

“The very one.”

Greg drained his glass in one gulp, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. “You’re being married off to one of the richest men in the country?”

“Technically, yes. But I don’t want this, Greg. I didn’t even know the man a week ago!”

“Thank God for that,” he exhaled. “You told your mother no?”

“Obviously.”

“And?”

“You know her. She’s immovable. This marriage ‘solves everything.’”

“Well, screw her! And screw Edlin!” Greg snapped, refilling his wine. “Don’t look at me like that — I’m not an alcoholic. But ‘shocked’ doesn’t cover it.”

“Join the club.”

I paced the tiny kitchen — two steps, turn, two steps back.

“They’re backing me into a corner, Greg. If I refuse, Edlin will call in my family’s debts. Mother will be ruined.”

Greg pulled me into a hug. I buried my face in his chest.

“Don’t do it. This isn’t the Middle Ages. No one forces marriages anymore.”

“She won’t stop. She’ll wear me down — guilt, ‘duty,’ all her usual weapons.”

“Then what do we do?”

I leaned back, meeting his eyes.

“There’s one way.”

“What, baby?” His fingers traced my arm, sparking warmth.

“Marry me.”

Greg blinked. “What?”

“If we elope, Mother can’t force me to marry Edlin. I’ll already be your wife. What do you think?”

He hesitated — then nodded. “I guess… that could work.”

Relief flooded me. I kissed him. “God, I feel lighter already.”

“But we’d have to wait a month,” he said.

“Why?”

“That’s the standard waiting period after filing the paperwork.”

“Then make it faster,” I begged. “Call in favors. You must know someone at the registry office. Get us married in days, not weeks!”

“How am I supposed to —?”

“Please, Greg!”

He paused, then nodded again. “I’ll try.”

But the doubt hit me instantly. Greg was ordinary. No connections. No power.

Then his mouth crashed onto mine, hungry and possessive.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured between kisses.

I twisted free, retreating toward the hallway. “I — I should go.”

“Running again?” He sighed. “You’re my fiancée now.”

“Not your wife yet.” I forced a laugh. “Just… fix the paperwork. Fast.”

I bolted before his hands could change my mind.

In the car, wind whipping through the window, three truths settled in my gut:

I’d just proposed to a man.

His reaction hadn’t been anything like a happy lover’s.

And the worst one — I felt nothing when he touched me.

Chapter 11. House of Cards

Andrew

Friday evening had arrived — time to unwind. The past weekend and the chaotic week that followed had been a whirlwind. My “introduction” to my future bride had set off what I liked to call the house of cards effect. One moment, life is orderly, everything neatly stacked. Then one tiny event triggers an avalanche of complications, as if someone is pulling out cards one by one until the whole damn structure collapses.

Of course, it was all predictable — and fixable. I harbored no illusions about a life of perpetual comfort and smooth sailing. In fact, prolonged calm unsettled me far more. It bred complacency.

The week had demanded a dozen board meetings, press interviews about diamond industry, a flight to the Netherlands to appease a key client, and an emergency detour to Africa after a fatal accident at one of our mines. Then, on the return trip, our brand-new private jet — meticulously inspected before takeoff — had engine failure, forcing an emergency landing. The experts were still investigating, but I already suspected their conclusion. And I didn’t like walking the edge of someone else’s blade.

Pushing aside the grim thoughts, I called for my car. Tonight, I’d forget the week’s fires (most now extinguished) and meet my closest friend, Leo Tretyak, at the club.

Forgetting was easy — except for her. Eva Lozinsky was shaping up to be the most infuriating thorn in my side, and yet the inevitability of her surrender thrilled me. That brazen girl, storming into my office offering a one-night stand to void our marriage, intrigued me more by the day. A docile doll for a wife would’ve been convenient, but a fiery, razor-tongued beauty? Even better. Our children would be exquisite.

Mark’s club was, as usual, packed for the weekend. The reserved VIP section spared us the crowd, offering a vantage point to observe the chaos below.

Leo was already there, sprawled on a black leather sofa with a blonde draped over him.

“Evening,” he greeted, nodding to his companion. “Helen Lars.”

I recognized her — a former figure skater turned cosmetics brand ambassador. I shook Leo’s hand and gave Helena a curt nod. A waiter brought brandy for us, a cocktail for her.

Leo, reading my mood, squeezed Helena’s ass and gave it a light smack. “Go dance, kitten.”

“And you?” she purred.

“I’m past the age of shaking my ass on a dancefloor,” he chuckled.

“But I don’t want to dance,” she pouted. I stifled an eye-roll. Women of her caliber were interchangeable.

“Go,” Leo insisted. “Andrew and I need to talk.”

With a dramatic sigh, Helena slithered toward the dancefloor, hips swaying.

“Christ, she’s dim,” Leo muttered, watching her go.

“Then why bother?”

“What that mouth lacks in wit, it excels in other skills,” he grinned. “Want her after I’m done?”

“You know my rule: bros before hoes,” I deadpanned.

We clinked glasses.

“Still playing the field?” I asked.

“What else is there?”

“You’re married, Leo.”

“We have an understanding: she fucks around, I fuck around.”

“Your wife cheats?” My brow arched. “And you’re fine with it?”

“She’s human. If I’m not fucking her, someone should.” He waved a hand, magnanimous. “Why divorce? It’s convenient. When I fall for someone real, I’ll bail.”

“Charming,” I muttered. “But I’ve got bigger problems.”

“The jet?”

I nodded. “Engine failure two days ago.”

Leo’s glass hit the table. “And you’re just now telling me?”

“Investigators are on it. Knew I’d see you tonight.”

“Andrew. My planes don’t fail. Not without help.” His voice dropped. “You think someone’s gunning for you?”

“Working theory.”

Leo signaled the waiter for two more drinks. “Find the bastard. Before he gets lucky.”

“My team’s on it.”

A lull settled between us — until a voice onstage shattered the quiet. A voice that ignited a storm inside me: desire, fury, the latter burning brightest.

“Fuck me,” I snarled, eyes locking on the stage.

Leo followed my gaze. “You know her?”

“That,” I said through gritted teeth, “is my fiancée.”

Chapter 12. To my beautiful bride

Eva

“Are you sure?” Tori asked me for the hundredth time as I parked the car in the lot behind the nightclub.

“I am sure.”

“Your mother is going to have your hide.”

“She won’t find out,” I snorted. “After that slap of hers, my sweet, darling mother thinks I’ve finally come to my senses and decided to stop rebelling.”

“But you’re not going to, are you?” laughed Tori.

“Why would I? Soon Greg and I will get married, and then I won’t owe anything to anyone,” I declared confidently.

“Greg doesn’t count, I take it?” Tori raised an eyebrow.

“Greg won’t object to either my ambitions on stage or this club.”

“Has he ever come to hear you sing, by the way?”

“No… He’s not a fan of places like this.”

The truth was something else entirely: Greg didn’t have the status to step foot in a place like Mark’s “Club.” Here, you had to reserve a table weeks or even months in advance. And Greg didn’t have the kind of money to frequent elite nightclubs regularly. Of course, I didn’t share that tidbit with Tori. When it came to Greg, she partially agreed with my mother, believing it was fine to indulge in a fling with him, but not wise to plan a future together.

We got out of the car, and Tori adjusted her short silver dress, flipping her cascade of platinum blonde hair back over her shoulder.

“Stunning!” I smiled at my friend.

“Coming from a beauty like you, I’ll take that as a compliment,” she winked at me. “Are you absolutely sure you want to marry Greg?”

“Why not? I love him, and he loves me.”

“He’s broke.”

“Tori, he’s not broke. Just not swimming in rubies like we are. Besides — » I sighed,” — it’s the only way to ditch Andrew Edlin.”

“Well… in any case, I’m on your side. Go for it!” Tori encouraged me.

We entered through the black back door, nodding to the bouncer. Tori headed to the main hall where her table had been reserved, and I went to the room Mark had generously given me as a dressing room. Usually, all his girls shared a large communal space where they got dressed, did their makeup, and gossiped. But I didn’t want to hang out with a group of strippers. I had known Mark for a long time. I was introduced to him by his cousin, Saeed, who helped me start performing at this nightclub. I was good friends with Saeed’s wife, and she had been the key to orchestrating this whole charade of me singing here.

I changed into a black dress with sheer side panels — my mom would have killed me for wearing something like this — and got ready to take the stage.

In the hallway, Mark intercepted me and gave me a wink.

“As stunning as ever.”

“No ‘private offers’ from your clients tonight, okay?” I rolled my eyes.

“My bad. Won’t happen again. Break a leg.”

His gaze lingered as I walked away. Mark liked me. Then again, Mark liked anything in a skirt.

The moment I stepped on stage, though, I forgot about Mark, my mother, and Edlin. Closing my eyes, I gave myself over completely to the music. I sang about a yellow raven from the legendary Scorpions song, wishing that fantastic bird would carry me far, far away from here.

The audience listened in silence, holding their breath. Mark always called me “a sultry little breather,” something to let his guests catch their second wind before the strippers came out and turned the club into a bubbling cauldron of energy and lust. One song, just once a week. Usually on Saturdays, but this time Mark had asked me to perform on Friday because tomorrow he had new girls with a new show, and my calm lyrics wouldn’t have fit the mood.

When my performance ended, I received thunderous applause and slipped through a discreet door near the side of the stage.

Locking myself in the small backroom, I quickly changed into black leggings and a bright pink silk blouse that bared one shoulder — provocative enough, but modest compared to the outfits some of the other girls here wore. I was about to join Tori in the hall when there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” I asked, heart racing as I feared yet another drunk with a proposal I supposedly couldn’t refuse.

“Eva, there are flowers for you,” came the voice of Molly, one of the waitresses.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I opened the door.

“Wow!” I gasped.

Molly was holding a massive basket of bright pink roses with both hands. “Matches my blouse exactly,” I noted to myself in surprise.

“Who sent them?”

“Dunno. There’s a card.”

“Thanks.”

Molly helped me carry the flowers to the small sofa in my dressing room, then lingered curiously as I pulled a card from the bouquet.

“Are you just going to stand there?” I teased.

“I’m dying to know who sent them,” she pouted and left with apparent disappointment.

I opened the note and read: “To my beautiful bride.” Just then, my phone buzzed with a message.

“How’d the performance go?” Greg asked. He knew I was at the club tonight but couldn’t join me, even though I’d offered him a table Mark always eagerly set aside for my friends.

“Thank you for the flowers,” I typed back, smiling at the screen. “They’re gorgeous.”

Leaving the bouquet in the dressing room, I walked into the hall where lively beats now filled the club, and two identical twin girls were moving on stage.

I joined Tori, who immediately gave me two big thumbs up.

“You were on fire, girl!”

Feeling the buzz of my phone again, I pulled it out.

“Uhh… I didn’t send you flowers,” Greg’s text read.

He didn’t send me flowers? But the card clearly said—

You’ve got to be kidding — ”

“Already defying your future husband’s rules?” a deep male voice growled behind me.

I looked up — straight into the furious eyes of Andrew Edlin.

Chapter 13. You are not Him

Eva

“I’ll definitely ignore your prohibitions,” I replied with a smirk, “and it’s doubtful my future husband would try forbidding me anything — but you’re not him, are you?”

Edlin narrowed his eyes.

“Are you finished?” he asked coldly.

“Absolutely!” I snapped, turning away demonstratively and taking a sip from my cocktail — a cranberry Cosmopolitan Tori had thoughtfully ordered for me. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a massive, bearded man lingering near Edlin, exuding the lazy vibe of a lounging cat.

“And now you’re drinking,” Edlin growled, snatching the cocktail from my hands.

“Imagine that! Singing in a club for horny men, drinking, fucking anyone who asks! What a perfect bride for Andrey Edlin!”

Tori’s companion, who had drifted over unnoticed, chuckled. Tori, on the other hand, gawked at me with her jaw nearly on the floor. As for Edlin…

Before I could react, Edlin grabbed me firmly by the waist and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Are you out of your mind?!” I shrieked, flailing.

“You’d better shut up, Eva. I’m already mad enough as it is.”

He stormed toward the club’s exit, completely unfazed by my protests. Instead of stopping him, the crowd and club security lazily parted to grant us an unobstructed path, as if swayed by some invisible force clearing the way.

“Put me down!” I screamed, pounding a fist against his back. For my trouble, I earned an unapologetic slap on my behind.

“Ouch!”

“Stop squirming,” he ordered. His voice wasn’t just angry — it was lethal.

Let him rage, I thought. Did he expect some meek little doll? Think again!

I smacked him again, with no effect. He was relentless, already barreling us through the door and into the fresh night air.

The icy chill shocked me out of my petty attempts at resistance. When Edlin finally set me down, it wasn’t onto the forgiving ground I yearned for, but near the glistening black surface of a monstrous SUV.

Chest heaving with both frustration and sheer indignity, my first impulse was pure instinct. I raised my hand, fingers poised for a slap.

But that bastard caught my wrist with such ease it was infuriating. He held it firmly, almost painfully, his steel-gray gaze boring into mine.

“Don’t even think about it,” he hissed, his tone low and dangerous, his looming presence forcing me to practically melt back against the cold, unyielding frame of the car.

“And don’t you dare act like you own me,” I hissed, tilting my chin up defiantly.

His lips barely quirked — not quite a smile, but close.

“When will you understand? I do.” His tone was infuriatingly patient, like he was explaining something to a child.

“When will you understand that you don’t?” I mocked, mimicking his cadence, and tried to sidestep him.

But his hand shot out, slamming down onto the roof of the SUV, blocking my path. Then the other hand came up, cutting me off on the other side.

“Let. Me. Go,” I panted, resisting the wild rhythm hammering in my chest. He was too close — leaning in too low, his lips mere inches from mine. It was unbearable. I could feel his hot breath, see the faint flecks of gold in his otherwise steely gaze. My heart screamed against my rib cage, blood roaring in my ears.

For the love of God — what the hell was wrong with me?

“You’re not going back into that club,” Andrew muttered finally, tearing his eyes from my lips to meet mine again. His voice was resolute, calm, and devastatingly final. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“I left my fiancé’s flowers,” I spat, lacing every syllable with exaggerated disdain.

Relieved when he leaned back, I barely had time to exhale before I caught his reply:

“I’m glad you liked them.” He tilted his head slightly, motioning toward someone I hadn’t noticed until now. “Russel, get the lady her flowers.”

Another shadow, almost monstrous in sheer bulk, seemed to materialize from the darkness. Aha — of course. His bodyguard.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I barked, my self-righteousness rejuvenated.

Oh, you are. And I’ll be generous enough not to tell Mommy where you were tonight.”

“I don’t care if you tell her,” I lied.

“Really? Want another round of slaps?”

My jaw clenched tightly as panic flushed through my skin. He wasn’t wrong. If my mother found out I had snuck back to sing in clubs — yet again — there’d be hell to pay. Her wrath made even Edlin’s temper look like a slight annoyance.

“She wouldn’t…” I tried weakly.

“Oh, come on, Eva,” he said, chuckling mockingly. “Don’t lie to me. I know she would. And you know it too.”

I glared back at him in stony silence, fully aware that he had me cornered. He pressed a button on his car’s remote with a casual flick of his thumb; I barely heard the reassuring “chirp” as the doors unlocked.

“Get in,” he commanded curtly, gesturing to the open SUV door.

“I’m telling you, I’m not going anywhere!”

“My patience is wearing thin, Eva,” he growled, the edges of his words sharp as knives.

His eyes weren’t joking. And something in his demeanor — that absolute, unshakable authority — made me cave. For tonight, I decided, sliding inside.

Edlin shut the door behind me with a resolute click, moving quickly to claim the driver’s seat. He locked the doors and turned to me.

“Hand me your car keys.”

“What?” I barked, confused.

“Russel will drive it back for you. Unless you want your mother collecting it tomorrow?”

“You’re vile.”

“Flattered you care.” He held out his hand. “Keys.”

“Drop dead.” I slapped them into his palm.

Handing the keys to Russel in exchange for the floral arrangement, Edlin murmured something inaudible before tossing the SUV into gear.

“Since fate threw us together tonight,” Edlin started nonchalantly, his eyes flicking briefly to the rearview mirror, “I figured I might take the opportunity to show you the house. You know, the one we’ll be living in after the wedding.”

I choked at his casual audacity.

“Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” he said simply, completely unbothered by the indignation growing in my voice.

“If you think I’m sleeping with you, darling,” I cooed, “that ship has sailed. My offer expired.”

“Don’t worry, kitten. I can wait for our wedding night.”

“Which won’t happen.”

“Which absolutely will.”

“Till then, will you keep fucking club girls? Is that why you came tonight?”

“Not at all.”

“Of course not,” I scoffed, turning to the window. The thought of him with another woman needled me — irrationally, infuriatingly.

“Sorry to ruin your fun,” I muttered. “Feel free to go back and finish what you started.”

“Oh, I will.” That damn calm again. Steel nerves. We’ll fix that.

“I want to go home,” I said wearily.

“We are.”

“My home.”

“First, we talk. You see your future house. We discuss the wedding.”

“There won’t be a wedding!” My voice cracked.

Andrew just smirked. I clenched my jaw, realizing my mistake — the more I fought, the more it amused him. He’d only lost control for that one moment after my performance. Furious that someone had dared defy him. But he’d reined it in fast, though I’d bet anything he was still boiling inside.