Keira thought she’d hit rock bottom ages ago. She was pretty damn sure of it, in fact. She’d spent the last two years bouncing from one high to another, doing whatever it took to keep her numbness firmly in place. From that, there was nowhere to go but up, right?
So fucking wrong.
Rock bottom was signing her name on that marriage certificate.
When Keira was a little girl, she’d spent hours upon hours planning her wedding. The flowers would be purple and white hyacinths. They’d have cupcakes instead of one massive cake—more purple and white. She’d design her own dress and it’d be the most beautiful thing anyone had ever seen.
Instead, she was married in a dirty courthouse room with one flickering light, the faint smell of piss, and an official who couldn’t be bothered to have the vows memorized. This wasn’t a marriage. It was a goddamn business transaction, and not one that she’d come out on top of.
Dmitri jerked his chin at the two men he’d had act as witnesses, and then led the way out of the room. The courthouse passed in a blur, and she shivered as they stepped out into the September night. Keira clutched Dmitri’s suit jacket closer around her. She should have thrown it in his face the second she woke up wearing it, but it was too cold for pride to have a foothold. And it smells like him. Considering it was his fault she was here in this situation, she shouldn’t find his scent comforting, but her body didn’t give a fuck about circumstances. It hadn’t gotten the memo that wanting Dmitri Romanov was bad for both her health and what little sanity she had left.
“It’s done.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the words were there and the sky didn’t fall. She’d married Dmitri Romanov and the world hadn’t ended. Go figure. “I suppose you have a victory parade planned to shout your superiority from the rooftops.”
His lips twitched in something that was almost a smile. “The parade will have to wait. We have work to do.”
“Oh man, is there a tiny slice of New York that you don’t already own? Tragic.” She shivered, her teeth clicking together, ruining a perfectly good snarky comment.
“Expanding my territory will have to wait, too.” He touched the small of her back, guiding her down the steps toward where the car waited. “Having my wife freeze to death on our wedding day might put a damper on things.”
Wife.
I am Dmitri Romanov’s wife.
It didn’t feel real. No, that was a lie. It felt entirely too real. As if her darkest fantasies had come to life and were playing out in front of her eyes. That was the problem with fantasies, though, they weren’t real. Dmitri hadn’t married her so he could orgasm her into submission and they could spend their days figuring out new ways to fuck.
He’d married her because he needed an O’Malley wife to prove to his enemies that he was the baddest motherfucker in town. He didn’t want a partner. He wanted a trophy.
He might have a healthy dose of lust for her, but he didn’t want her.
She stopped short. “Romanov?”
His sigh spoke of the very end of his patience. “Yes, Keira?”
“You were with Aiden, right? Is Charlie okay?” Is Aiden? The question she hadn’t dared ask. The reason she was essentially locked in her room. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep hidden how much the answer mattered to her.
Dmitri looked at her a long moment, his gray eyes giving nothing away. “Last I saw Charlie, she was being carried safely in your brother’s arms.”
Knowing that her brother and his fiancée were safe should have stopped the panic welling in her chest. It didn’t. Too much had happened in the last couple weeks. Keira had spent years in a fog brought on by alcohol and drugs, and she’d finally weaned off enough of it to…care. Charlie was her friend. Keira should have known better than to let herself get attached to anyone in her life—even family. They all left, whether it was to walk away or leave in a body bag. Caring was an invitation to get her heart ripped out of her chest.
She stepped away from Dmitri’s touch. She couldn’t think when he put his hands on her, and what few survival instincts she had left went haywire in her need to get as much of him pressed against as much as her as possible. Until he did something to ruin it. Every. Single. Time.
To remind her who was in control.
Hint: it wasn’t Keira.
She slid into the backseat and inched as far away from the door as she could before Dmitri joined her. I can do this. I just have to last until we get to the house, and then I can crack open that giant bottle of vodka and not think for a little while.
Dmitri apparently had enough of poking at her, because he sat silently as they cut through the streets in the direction of Manhattan. The ride passed quickly enough, though her hands were shaking by the time they pulled to a stop in front of an apartment building.
Keira laughed out loud at the sight. There weren’t bars on the window, but there might as well have been a sign proclaiming it to be home of the resident evil overlord. It was in the overlarge front door—even bigger than the one in the O’Malley residence—and the massive iron-framed windows, each with dark curtains on the other side, blocking out any view of the interior. It was beautiful, but there was a definite modern gothic flair that she wouldn’t have expected from Dmitri. “You called me dramatic. Those living in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
“Hmm?” He climbed out of the car, her bag firmly in one hand, and held the door open for her.
“This.” She stepped onto the sidewalk and frowned at the building. “You have private parking somewhere, I’m assuming.” He didn’t answer, but she wasn’t about to let that stop her. “Would have been smarter to go in there, but you couldn’t resist making an impression, could you?” Keira strode up the stairs to the massive wooden door. It looked like something that should be at a dark and stormy castle, complete with gargoyles. There was even an oversized knocker right in the center of it. “It’d be better if this was a face, preferably screaming in agony.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She ignored the amusement in his tone and tried the handle. Unlocked. Keira pushed through the door and stepped into the massive entranceway. If the building looked like renovated apartments on the outside, the interior had been completely gutted and changed. She looked around, trying to feel something other than the itch to pop open a bottle, but she couldn’t focus. “Where’s my room? I want to be alone.”
“Keira.”
She could charge up the stairs, but her pointed exit would be ruined by not knowing where her bedroom was. She sighed and turned to face him. “Yes?”
“When is the last time you spent twenty-four hours sober?”
She was not touching that question with a ten-foot pole. “I don’t remember reading anything requiring sobriety in the contract…” Keira snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. There wasn’t a contract. There was just you being shady and expecting everyone else to play along.” She had to get out of there. She was holding it together by a hair. Even though it went against everything she was, she let a little vulnerability creep into her voice. “Romanov, please. I’m tired and I’m worried about my friend and brother, and you just threw a surprise marriage at me. Cut me a break and give me some time to find my feet.” She held her breath, watching him watch her.
Finally, he nodded. “Your room is on the second floor. Third door on the right.”
That was it. No offering to walk her up there. No pointed comments about her wifely duties. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Keira pointed at the bag he still held. “My things.”
Dmitri passed it over, though he didn’t look impressed. “Whatever you need will be provided for you. Just let me or one of my men know.”
Don’t look at the bars of the cage. Look at all the pretty things you can have.
She clamped her mouth shut to keep from saying the words aloud, as if that would somehow make this whole shit show real. Keira nodded and headed up the stairs, feeling his gaze on her the entire way.
* * *
Alethea Eldridge studied her only daughter. She’d had such high hopes for Mae when she was a little girl, dreams of her daughter following in her footsteps and carving out a little territory of her own—expanding the territory they currently occupied. It was what Alethea herself had done when she’d reached the point where her mother trusted her with operations.
Those dreams were dust now. First when Andrei Romanov forced them to become part of his operation, and again when Dmitri Romanov tried to extinguish their existence completely.
Alethea knew her strengths. She never wanted to rule all of New York—it was more trouble than it was worth—but being stripped of what little power the Eldridges had and treated as little more than a henchman?
It couldn’t go unanswered.
The situation was even more dire now that Mae had lost control yet again. Alethea crossed her arms over her chest and looked down her nose at her daughter. “I had Romanov and O’Malley right where I wanted them, but you managed to get them to stop bickering and unite against us. Twice.”
“They insulted us. Maybe you could let it stand, but I wasn’t going to.” Mae lifted her chin. She’d never be a beauty, but she was strong and vicious, and Alethea had spent her life teaching Mae the ins and outs of their world. Not that the girl had listened. She liked blood too much, liked others’ pain. That tendency could be valuable in an enforcer, but in an heir?
“Some insults are worth bearing if it will get you closer to the end goal.” She wouldn’t get through to her this time any more than she had the last few.
The temptation rose to just…walk away. To take what little money they had left after getting Mae out of jail and leave. Go west, or maybe take a flight to Europe and lose themselves there.
As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Alethea set it aside. Her mother hadn’t raised her to be a coward any more than Alethea had raised Mae to be one. Several generations of Eldridges had spent money and blood carving out a place for themselves in New York, and she’d be damned before she let that upstart Russian drive them out.
There was no way out of this as long as Romanov and O’Malley were alive. O’Malley, they could avoid if they stayed in New York. He was new to his power and, with an upcoming wedding and a healing fiancé, he would be focused on Boston.
Nothing would distract Romanov. He had more at stake, and it was his territory they currently stood on.
No, the only way out was through him. He was the last of his family in the city. His extended family might not like it if she took him out, but anyone they sent to deal with her would be an outsider, and that would work against them.
Alethea opened her eyes, a plan already forming. “You will obey, Mae. Our very survival depends on it.”
Mae stared at her with those cold, cold eyes, and Alethea caught herself wondering if she could draw the gun in her purse faster than Mae could get to whatever weapon she had secreted on her person. Then her daughter smiled. “Of course, Mother. I wouldn’t dream of disobeying.”
* * *
Dmitri stared at his phone. They’d been back in New York for hours, and he’d expected a call from Aiden O’Malley. The man wouldn’t be able to let Dmitri taking his little sister go without at least an attempt at a fight. The fact that he hadn’t called wasn’t a good sign.
He drummed his fingers on the desk, irritated at himself. He’d told Keira that her brother was safe.
Fuck. Dmitri didn’t lie. He didn’t have to, because most of the time he held all the cards. It was a simple matter of playing the right ones to ensure the people around him acted accordingly. He’d told Keira that her brother was fine because he’d assumed it was the truth. If he was wrong, she’d accuse him of lying to her.
He grabbed the phone and dialed from memory. Come on, you Irish bastard. Pick up. The phone clicked over, and then Aiden was on the line. “You two-faced piece of shit. You must have bolted the second you left that warehouse to collect Keira.”
Dmitri exhaled slowly. Aiden was alive. He hadn’t lied to Keira, unwittingly or not. He hated that he’d doubted himself, even for a moment, and that irritation had him sniping at the other man. “You did promise that she and I would be married. Were you going to break your word, Aiden?”
He ignored that. “And you promised her a choice.”
“She had a choice. She chose me.” Under duress and with a healthy dose of manipulation, but Dmitri had never promised to play fair. He wanted Keira, and so he ensured that he acquired her. End of story. It was done, and Aiden damn well knew it.
“I want to talk to her.”
“That’s not an option. She’s resting.” More likely, she was drinking herself into oblivion. He’d recognized that wild look in her eyes when she walked away from him. It was the same one he’d seen the few times they’d interacted at the raves she always seemed to be at.
But if he didn’t throw Aiden a bone, the man would undoubtedly do something ill advised. “She’ll call you tomorrow. I’m sure Charlie needs time to recover, and you’ll be wanting to focus on that.”
“Don’t tell me what I should or should not be focusing on. Charlie wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place if you took care of your own territory. Don’t think I’ll forget that.”
This was getting them nowhere. He shouldn’t have called in the first place, should have waited for Aiden to contact him, but Dmitri at least had the answer he’d needed. “Your opinion is noted. Have a nice day, O’Malley.”
“Romanov.”
He sighed. “Da?”
“You do a single damn thing to damage my sister, and you won’t like what happens next.”
The threat wasn’t unexpected, but it was wearisome all the same. Dmitri tsked. “She’s mine now. I think, of the two of us, I’ll be taking better care of her.” He hung up before Aiden could say something truly regrettable.
He’s promised to do what he could to keep the peace, after all.
Dmitri sat back and checked the time. Too soon to try to talk to Keira. She’d retreated after their interaction in the car, and he needed space to figure out how best to approach her going forward. They had to find a way to work with each other, and that wasn’t going to happen if she shut him out every time he said something she didn’t like. It was obvious that he’d injured her pride over the course of their interactions to date, but Dmitri didn’t possess a time machine to go back and change that. Even if he could, he wouldn’t. He’d made the only move available in the moment. Losing his head over Keira O’Malley when she was a complete wild card and beyond his control was not an option.
Losing his head at all wasn’t an option.
I won’t. I might want her, but that changes nothing. I’m still completely in control of the situation.