“Did you forget that we kind of have classes in the morning?”
“Yeah, so? Being a uni student doesn’t conflict with having fun, you know. In fact, everyone but you does, Miss No-Fun.”
“Don’t come begging me to wake you up tomorrow when you’re proper hammered.”
“Pfft. Glyn will.”
“Glyn, who’s with her boyfriend doing God knows what?”
“It’s called fucking, Ces. Repeat after me. F-U-C-K.”
She gives her a blank look and Ava bursts out laughing and goes back to drinking. They all tease Cecily about being a nerd and a prude, but I find her super cool for having clear boundaries for what she likes and what she doesn’t.
I wish I were as confident as she is.
“So…” I clear my throat. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you guys about something.”
“Ooh, sounds juicy.” Ava focuses on me. “What is it?”
“Remember that arranged marriage thingy that I was destined to do ever since they found out I have a vagina?”
“Those patriarchal pricks.” Cecily’s eyes shine with defiance.
“What she said.” Ava bumps her friend’s shoulder. “And? Did they pick up a husband for you at seventeen? Want us to riot in front of the US embassy? Maybe the Russian embassy, too?”
“No on all counts. Mom said she wouldn’t allow it.”
Cecily’s expression eases. “I knew I liked your mum.”
“What she said again. So is your mum going to cut a bitch in your name or should we do it?”
“I don’t think any of that is needed. Mom said Papa won’t let anyone force me into marriage if I have someone I love.”
“Yes! Bitch, why didn’t you say that before and why aren’t we celebrating?”
“Hello? Because I have no one I love?”
“Well, you can find someone.” Ava sighs. “Falling in love is actually easier than it sounds. Overrated, too, just saying. Not that I’m talking from experience or anything.”
“Security, this one right here is a pathological liar,” Cecily says.
“Am not!”
“Are, too!”
“You’re delusional,” Ava says, then focuses on me. “Back to the subject at hand. I’m telling you, Anni, you’re like hot and smart, and I’d totally become gay for you if I had a choice. Point is, anyone can fall in love with you. All you have to do is love them back.”
I lean on the pillar beside Cecily to ease the ache from my ankles and release a long sigh. “That’s easier said than done. I was thinking about convincing someone to fake date me until my parents think I’m in a stable relationship. But then again, they’d see straight through my lies. Also, I would be putting the poor boy at the top of Papa and Jer’s shit list. Also known as the hit list.”
“You don’t have to think that hard about it,” Cecily says. “I’m sure if you explain it to any of your guy friends, they’ll be willing to help. Jeremy won’t kill them or anything.”
“You obviously don’t know how overprotective my brother can get.”
“If the one you pick is a brilliant chap and has great conversational skills, he’ll be able to win over your brother.”
“And where do I find this Prince Charming, Ava?”
“Brandon! He’s quite the looker, charismatic, and most importantly, he likes you. I think only as a friend, but that’s enough to convince Jeremy and fly under his radar.”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to get him hurt.”
“Talk to him and see.” Cecily smiles. “Remi would be willing to help, too. He’s an infuriating prick, but he has a great sense of loyalty. And he can become an eloquent conversationalist when the situation requires it.”
I did think about that option when I first came up with this plan, but I’m hesitant about getting someone hurt for my benefit.
“Oh, Creigh!” Ava stares ahead behind us. “What are you doing here alone? Where’s your designated shadow, Remi?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and wildfire explodes on my skin.
I don’t dare look behind the pillar or even take a breath.
But just because I’m hiding doesn’t mean the world pauses.
Creighton strides to our small circle, one hand in his pocket and the other grasping a bottle of water.
His black T-shirt and jeans do nothing to conceal his muscular build or the power shimmering beneath the surface.
Nor does the signature blank look on his face or the coolness in his expressionless eyes.
“Remi’s shagging,” he announces coolly, easily.
He nods at Cecily and spares a glance in my direction. But it can’t actually be called that. It’s a tenth of a glance.
A mere inch of a glance.
“Ugh. That pig.” Cecily shakes her head. “We’re crossing Remi off the potential candidates list.”
“We can add Creigh instead!” Ava grins, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. When he gives her a look, she goes on, “Anni needs a fake boyfriend to convince her family not to arrange her with some evil mafia chap. Bran is our number one candidate because he’s like the best. You are, too, Creigh, but your lack of words can be a deal breaker for some.”
“Yeah, not him.” I force a smile and rub my foot against my calf. “That just leaves Bran. I’ll go beg him on my knees.”
Something flashes through Creighton’s eyes. Not sure what it is, but it’s raw enough to send a chill down my spine—like his text two days ago.
For the first time ever, I, Annika Volkov, found no words to type back. Not even an emoji or a GIF. I was stunned into silence.
Partly because I knew not to push when someone set clear boundaries and partly because I’m starting to think Creighton is nothing like the façade he shows to the outside world.
And while that intrigued me, it terrified me to the core as well, and I have enough self-preservation instinct to stay away from muddy situations the moment I sense them.
That feeling is repeating again, and it tunes out all the noise around us as if we’re trapped in a bubble.
“We’ll help,” Ava says. “Bran is like my bestie.”
“Everyone is your bestie,” Cecily points out.
“And you’re at the top and you love me.” She blows her kisses to which Cecily shakes her head again.
“Why not me?”
We all pause at Creighton’s calmly spoken words. He’s staring at me.
Dead on.
With those darkening heterochromia eyes and that stone-cold face.
I’ve never been under his scrutiny to this point of suffocating intensity.
The way he looks at me now is different.
He used to regard me with annoyance, blankness, or pure indifference.
There’s certainly no indifference now. It’s interest, but not the good type. Hell, it might as well be the dangerous type.
“Do you want it to be you?” Cecily asks slowly, almost carefully.
“Why not me?” he repeats, still staring at me, drilling holes in my face.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested.” I’m surprised I sound collected, considering the war raging inside me.
“What if I am?”
I almost choke on my own drool. What is wrong with him tonight? He obviously did his best to scare me away, but now he wants to be my fake boyfriend?
“No,” I speak with more determination. “Bran is a better fit.”
“Why?”
“Because he says more than a few clipped words per month.” I smile at Ava. “I’m going to get something to drink. Want to come?”
“Sure.” She interlinks her arm with mine, and once we’re walking away, she whispers in my ear, “That was such a low blow. He’s glaring.”
I glance behind me, and sure enough, Creighton’s cold gaze follows my movements, his jaw set, his wicked lips thinned in a line and his arms taut.
I can’t help feeling a sense of apprehension or the lash of his anger that rolls over my skin.
It’s not like I did anything wrong. I only gave him a taste of his own medicine.
Still, I cut off eye contact first, willingly losing the battle.
Something tells me I poked the monster in his cave and he might come after me.
6
ANNIKA
Two small pointy ears, baby whiskers, and a pink nose are the definition of my weakness.
I hold up the tiny striped cat in my hand and pet his head. He rubs himself against my hand and a fuzzy feeling shoots down to the marrow of my bones.
He releases a soft mewl, a cry for affection, and my heart bleeds. “I’m so sorry you lost your mommy, Tiger. I promise to take care of you until you start to wreak havoc around here.”
I found him a few days ago on the side of the road in a box with three other kittens. The pouring rain and probably hunger killed all of them except for this tiny fighter. I hid him in my pocket and brought him to the animal shelter where I volunteer.
Dr. Stephanie was surprised Tiger didn’t meet his siblings’ tragic fate, but I was sure the little baby would survive.
“You’re a fighter, aren’t you?” I speak to him in a child’s voice, trying not to cry at the reminder of what happened to the other kittens.
I did cry at that time. They were so small and helpless and without a mother. I’m commissioning a voodoo doll to curse the heartless monster who threw them to the side of the road.