Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Renata

I really shouldn't be falling in love with Ollie Romanov, or, more accurately…falling in love with him all over again.

But I guess, in a certain way, this is probably for the best. Deep down, I always knew it was inevitable.

We're going to be married, so we might as well like each other.

Still, I feel awkward and shy when I wake up next to him. It was different in the middle of the night when moonlight illuminated his features and mine. What happens at midnight doesn't count at daybreak, right? Late night conversations, confidences—all of it looks different when put under the bright lights of the early morning. I'm not sure what else to do except move forward with our plans.

If I don't want to fall in love, we have to stop having sex. Every time he's near me, he finds more cracks in my defenses, slipping through without me even noticing. I can't risk being vulnerable like that.

But how can I stop it? He's going to be my husband.

Ollie's sitting up in bed, staring at me with a look on his face I can't quite decipher. I roll over onto my side as if somehow putting a few feet between us will actually save me. I'm no fool though—I know it won't.

"Good morning."

There's a swift knock at the door, followed by a deep, gruff voice. "I have what you ordered, sir."

Ollie sits up in bed, frowning, every single cell of his being on alert. I'm instantly on guard myself.

He leaps out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and marches over to the door. "Stay there," he snaps at me.

My God, he's scared of everything. We're in his family's house, for God's sake.

"Who is it?" he snaps.

I don't recognize the Russian name.

Ollie curses. "I told you not until after the wedding," he says. "Take it back."

Take what back?

I hear a little squeak and a bark. I stare, my mouth agape. Was that…? No.

What?

Ollie spins around and looks at me, pointing an irate finger in my direction. "I am opening this door. Pull that fucking blanket up over you."

I look down at myself on instinct. I forgot I'm naked.

"Jesus. Calm the hell down, dude." He glares at me, and my butt clenches. Still, I want to see what's on the other side of the door, so I don't give him shit and instead, do exactly what he tells me.

He opens the door, and all of a sudden, a little fluffy white ball comes running into the room and leaps onto the bed. "Off the bed!" he snaps in a growl. But it's too late. I have a wriggling, adorable little ball of fluff licking my face and wagging his tail so hard his entire body is shaking. "Oh my God, you got me a puppy?"

He stands at the foot of the bed, watching us with that brooding scowl of his. "You like him?" There's something softer behind the question, something he's not ready to show.

I can't stop laughing as I try—and fail—to dodge the puppy's barrage of kisses. His wriggling joy reminds me of something soft and pure I didn't know I still had in me.

I feel like I'm going to cry. "Like him? He's perfect. Oh my God, he's awesome." He remembered that I wasn't allowed to have a dog when I was little. I always wanted one. My throat feels tight. Maybe Ollie doesn't hate me, but even if he does… this sweet little angel won't. I bury my face in his tiny, wriggling body.

"He can't stay in the bed, and he has to be trained in a dog obedience school," he rumbles. "And if he has accidents?—"

He rises up on his hind legs and licks Ollie's hand. He pauses, mid-rant and frowns.

"He wasn't supposed to come now," he says, glaring at the door. The big guard looks sheepish and shrugs. "I wanted him to be a wedding present." He looks up at the guard, then shakes his head. "Jesus. Get the hell out of here," he snaps, putting himself between me and the guard so he doesn't see my bare shoulder.

"Do you want me to take the puppy away until later, sir?"

"Yes," he snaps at the same time I yell, "No! Take the puppy? What are you gonna do with him?" I snatch him to my chest, and I swear he almost purrs like a cat. I can't help it. I start talking in a little baby voice. "He knows his mama. Don't you, sweetie? The sweetest thing I ever saw. I love you." And he licks at my face as Ollie curses in Russian.

"Leave him for now and get the fuck out of here," he snaps. The door slams shut behind him.

Ha! Score.

"I can't believe you got me a puppy," I say to him. "I thought you hated me."

He blows out a breath and shakes his head, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "I never hated you. Not once. I was pissed at you when I thought you betrayed us, but now… I'm not so sure about that." He looks away as if he said more than he intended to. There's a weight in his voice, as if those words have been waiting a long time to be spoken.

"I am not kidding, Renata. I don't like dogs. I got it for you so he could protect you." He rolls his eyes. "After he's trained and grows up. I got him as a puppy so we could train him right away. But listen to me. The dog's not sleeping in our bed," he says, trying to sound firm, but there's a slight crack in his voice. "You can bond with him or whatever, just not here. Got it?"

"Where are you going to put him?" I say in a little voice. "He's just a wittle baby."

"He's not a baby . He's a dog. A cur. An animal," he says. "Jesus, this was a fucking bad idea."

"Don't you want me to like you? We're going to be married, after all. It wouldn't hurt if we didn't feel like strangers forever. It might be nice if I don't short-sheet the bed or try to stab you in your sleep." I shrug innocently, then look away from him, realizing those threats are on wildly different planets. One suitable for a summer camp, and the other suitable for women like me.

But I'm not the one who kills people. That's his job.

I think briefly of Carlos and swallow hard.

"I don't give a shit if you like me," he says, but when he looks away, my intuition snaps into place. I stifle a smile. Unfortunately for him, I know a lie when I hear one, and he just lied to me.

"Why do you have that self-satisfied smug look on your face?" he says, shaking his head. Wouldn't he like to know?

"Oh, it's nothing," I say, scratching the little baby's ears.

"Jesus," he mutters under his breath and stomps off to the bathroom, mumbling a stream of grumpy Russian.

The puppy turns to me and nestles his sweet head into my arm. He sighs contentedly as if he wants to fall asleep. This little one has two modes—on and off. I nuzzle him and swallow hard, my eyes blurry. I love him already.

I want to tell somebody. A sister, a friend. But I have neither. My heart hurts.

The puppy whimpers at me and laps at my face, but this time, he's licking away tears. I bury my face in his fur and allow myself this momentary pleasure. I have someone to love. Someone to love me.

Why did he get me a dog?

I remember telling him last night… I liked farmers' markets, puppies, ocean views, and sex.

He comes out of the bathroom, already dressed, his hair slicked back and put together. "We have a wedding to plan. Someone's gonna watch this dog. And we're gonna get shit done. Got it?"

"Well, that's easy for you to say. I have nothing to wear."

There's another knock at the door.

This time, he doesn't look surprised.

"That's Isabella. She got in last night, and she's brought clothes for you." My heart stops in my chest. I am naked in Ollie's bed, and I do not want to see my ex-best friend. Plus, I'm pissed at her. To think that she actually believed I would betray her…

I clutch the puppy in a blanket to my chest while Ollie opens the door. It's not just Isabella, but Isabella and, shocker, her husband Lev beside her. They step into the room.

She gives me a long, withering glance. There was a time when she would've winked at me or done some type of conspiratorial whisper so that I would know she knew I had spent the night with Ollie. Now, I feel like she's judging me like I'm some kind of a whore, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach.

"You got her a dog?" Isabella says with a frown to Ollie. I want to shake her. This is the girl I grew up with, who shared secrets and hopes, who taught me how to skip rocks and pick a lock. This was my best friend, closer to me than any sister, the woman I looked to when the chips were down, who came to me when she needed help. I was the one who taught her how to read her brother and know he was lying, how to make herself small and hold her breath when she needed to hide.

I've lived two lives; my first was glued to Isabella's side… and now she's acting as if she doesn't even know me.

I don't speak and let her talk to Ollie. It doesn't matter. How could it? I'm nothing to her.

"It's a guard dog," Ollie retorts.

"A guard dog? I can fit in my handbag!" Isabella snaps at him.

Ollie growls, and Lev steps into the room, holding his hands up to her.

"If he wants to get her a guard dog, he can get her a guard dog. Leave it."

"He was supposed to be a wedding present. Don't get any ideas. This dog is going to grow up to be the most vicious dog you've ever met."

"Sure," Isabella says, placing a large bag down by the bed. "I'll believe it when I see it." She hands me the bag of clothes. "Here. These are for you. I don't wear them anymore. They should fit you, but may be a bit… tight," she says, her tone cold and emotionless.

Oh, the bitch, making an inside dig at my weight. I'm curvier than she is, and she can fuck right off. I want to throw the bag of clothes right back at her. I don't want her fucking hand-me-downs, but most of all, I don't want her disdain. I want to shake her. I'm not a betrayer. I'm not who they think I am. But time will prove this to be true. I have to remember that.

When she places her hand on her abdomen and her face contorts in pain, I forget why I'm mad at her. My heart rate spikes. Lev is beside her instantly, his hand on her back, his other hand on her shoulder.

"What's the matter?" Ollie says.

"Just a contraction," Isabella says. "Whatever. It happens sometimes to women."

"You've got months left," he says, frowning.

"Right. It doesn't mean labor; it just happens, alright?"

"Make sure you're properly hydrated," I say to her. "Braxton Hicks can happen because of dehydration, especially this early in your pregnancy. How far along are you, anyway?" Where the hell did that come from? I'm not in the business of giving a shit about her right now.

She spins around on her heel. "I'm not taking advice from you. Get the hell out of bed and get dressed. We have a wedding to plan," she says. "And since when are you some expert on pregnancy and babies?"

"Maybe when you were traveling the world and sweet-talking your way into the good graces of the Romanovs, I was learning midwifery. But you wouldn't know that, would you?" I grit my teeth. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Isabella."

It isn't quite fair. I didn't tell Isabella because she had big plans to overthrow her brother. She wanted to make herself the leader of her family's cartel, and she fucking did it.

I might be a little salty because of the way she's treated me. But, I thought out of everyone here… at least she would know I was telling the truth. I never dreamed she'd believe the lies about me. If your best friend doesn't believe that you're telling the truth, how is someone who is your enemy supposed to?

"What she's saying makes sense, Isabella," Lev says. "You know you don't drink enough water when you travel. Let's go get you some, and then I want you to rest."

Isabella glares at me, but there's a look in her eyes I've seen before. She's hurt. I look away from her, not wanting to meet her gaze.

That makes two of us.

When the door shuts behind them, I turn to Ollie. "Do me a favor and don't open that door again until I actually have some clothes on."

The little fur-ball in my lap sniffs and acts as if he's going to pee. Oh God. Ollie swears and grabs at him, but he wriggles out of his grasp and promptly pees on the floor.

I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a laugh, and he narrows his eyes at me. I bite my cheek, so I don't laugh out loud.

"Jesus," Ollie says, swearing again under his breath in Russian and advancing on him. He looks murderous.

"Leave him alone!" I leap from the bed and put myself between the two of them. "He's only a baby and has to learn!"

He picks me up bodily and plunks me down behind him, and in two huge strides, reaches the puppy. He picks him up in one hand and holds him up to his nose. " Neyt . Do not do that again. Let's go. You will learn to go outside ." He opens the door and orders over his shoulder, "Look through the clothing and lay it all on the bed. I'll tell you what to wear." I open my mouth to respond when the door slams shut behind them.

Why do I fall for the overbearing sort?

I shrug. Maybe he'll make a good father. He can be stern but protective, and— no ! Oh my God. I can't start thinking like that. Not yet. He could get in a wild rage and drown the little pup, for all I know.

Ollie Romanov is not a good man.

If I were a betting woman, I'd bet good money that this little puppy is going to have him wrapped around his little finger in no time.

If only I could find a way to wrap Ollie around my finger as easily as that puppy will.

With a sigh, I open the bag and rifle through the clothing.

I'll tell you what to wear?

I wonder if this is a battle I should fight. I can't let every breath out of my mouth and every conversation between the two of us be a fight, so I figure now is probably as good a time as any to actually go along with him. If I'm honest… if I liked him, I would think it was kind of hot that he wanted to pick out what I was going to wear.

I take the bag of clothes, grab the end of it, and shake them all onto the bed. "Here you go, boss." I give the door the middle finger.

"What was that?" Ollie asks, opening the door. The look in his eyes makes me suspect he knew I just flipped him off, but there's no way.

"What? Here are the clothes. You said you wanted to pick them out or whatever. Where's the puppy?"

"In good hands. Now go get dressed." He frowns. "And decide what to name that little mutt."

I shut and lock the door behind me, brace myself on the sink, and stare at myself in the mirror. The swelling in my arm has gone down; that's good. One good thing, anyway.

I'll hear from Carlos soon; I know I will. My brother will contact me, especially since I'm getting married. He probably already knows. I wonder how he'll get in touch with me… He doesn't have my cell phone number because somewhere between being hauled to Colombia and dragged back to New York, I lost it.

Not that any of that ever stopped him before.

I sigh.

There are dark circles under my eyes, and my hair is a wild, tangled mess, but other than that, I haven't really changed much. I'm still me and damn proud of that. I've been dragged from one place to another, manhandled and hurt, accused and belittled, but can still hold my head high.

No one will take my identity away from me. None of them will.

I only wish the Romanovs knew the truth. I hate the injustice of it all. I clench my hands into fists, my fingernails biting into my palms.

I have to stay the course.

I have to seek justice and not manage to get me—or, worse, Ollie—killed in the process.