Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

VIVIAN

W ith a glance through the window at the darkness outside, I said, "It's late. I'm sure visiting hours are over."

Var dragged a chair over to my bed. After sitting down, he crossed his arms and smiled at me. "I'm sure they are."

It was difficult pulling off the strong ice queen giving demands when I knew my makeup was probably smeared and my hair was flat. Not to mention the incredibly unflattering washed-out green hospital gown I was wearing.

The oxygen tube running from my nose wasn't doing me any favors either. Fortunately, the doctor said I only needed it until I was fully awake and wouldn't have to wear the annoying thing through the night.

With a self-conscious flick, I fluffed my hair over my right shoulder. "That was my not-so-subtle hint that you need to leave now."

He leaned forward and shrugged out of his black leather racer jacket and tossed it over the foot of my bed, before pushing up the sleeves to his black V-neck sweater. "And this is my equally not-so-subtle hint that I'm staying."

"There is no reason to stay. I'm fine."

"You're not fine until we get the liver and kidney blood test results and a radiologist reviews your chest X-rays tomorrow morning. Right now, at best, you're close to being fine," he fired back.

With a huff, I yanked the thin, pale green hospital blanket up over my chest. "You can't stay in my room if I don't want you here."

He raised an eyebrow as he interlaced his fingers over his flat abdomen. "I can if I paid for it."

My head pivoted to take a belated glance around the room they had put me in. I should have known. It was way nicer than any hospital room I'd ever seen. And even some hotel rooms.

Instead of white linoleum, there was a thin beige carpet on the floor. The walls weren't the usual painted cinderblock, but rather a pleasant dusty blue. There was even an impressionist landscape print of a pond with swans. And all the monitoring machines were hidden behind the bed in a wall of beechwood cabinets.

My fingers dug into the blanket. "I'll pay you back."

"Sounds good to me."

I raised my chin. "How much?"

His dark sapphire gaze raked over me. "I'm sorry, I don't accept cash payments."

His innuendo was clear.

I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? I literally have tubes coming from my nose right now."

He shrugged one shoulder. "What can I say, beautiful? I find you sexy as fuck. In sickness and in health."

His odd turn of phrase caught my attention. "How do you know so much about my condition?"

"The doctor told me."

"Why? That information should be privileged."

I suspected I knew why, but couldn't fathom him having the audacity to do it.

"I can be very persuasive."

My eyes widened. "And evasive. Oh, my God! You didn't. Tell me you didn't."

He stretched open his arms. "What?"

Leaning forward, I glared at him. "In sickness and in health? Did you tell the hospital you were my husband?"

"And if I did?"

Digging around in the covers on the side of my bed, I reached for the nurse call button. "This is beyond controlling—even for you." I pressed the button. "I'm getting a nurse to kick you out. And I'm telling them you are not my husband."

He launched out of the chair and caged me in with his arms as he leaned over the bed. "Listen very carefully, krasivaya . I'm doing my best to keep my anger in check. Keep fighting me and see what happens."

The nurse popped her head into the room. "Did you need something?"

Var pierced me with his glare. I swallowed, unable to speak.

Keeping his gaze on me, he called over his shoulder, "No. Now close that door and don't open it again unless I summon you."

The nurse bowed her head. "Of course, Mr. Rubashkin. I'm sorry, Mr. Rubashkin."

The nurse closed the door, leaving us alone again.

What the hell?

How had he cowed the nurse that easily? Did she know he was part of the Russian Mafia? Was that why? Did everyone in this freaking city fear this man?

Var rose and took a deep breath as he continued to loom over me. "We need to get a few things straight, Vivian."

I lowered my head and looked away.

In this moment, all I wanted to do was go home.

I wanted to take a nice long bath, and then crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and forget about the whole embarrassing incident.

I still couldn't believe I'd been so careless as to mix that varnish without making sure the room was properly ventilated. Stupid window.

Apparently, my skipping lunch after such a rich breakfast of Eggs Benedict on top of the two glasses of wine, which thinned my blood, didn't help.

My cheeks burned with the thought of Var finding me collapsed in what was probably an unattractive heap on my apartment floor.

In my mind's eye, there was also a humiliating pool of drool on the hardwood.

All I wanted to do was go home and forget all about it. As well as the last week.

Maybe one day, fifty years from now, I would enjoy remembering that insane time when I was sleeping with one Russian Mafia boss while being chased by another, all because of a couple of paintings… but not now.

Now, I just wanted to disappear under some covers in a dark room with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolate chip cookies.

His hand on my chin interrupted my thoughts. "Look at me."

I was in no position to fight him. "I don't see what you have to be angry about. I'm the one stuck in this hospital bed."

When he spoke, his voice was low and calm.

"I told the staff you were my wife, because that is precisely who you will be as soon as I get you out of here. And after the stunt you pulled today, you'll be lucky if you don't spend the next year chained to my bed for your own safety."

Wife?

Stunt?

Chained to his bed?

WTF?

I blinked several times. "Did they sedate me? Am I on some kind of drug right now, because I don't remember agreeing to marry you?"

His thumb stroked my lip. "That's because I didn't ask."

My brow furrowed. "You think we're getting married… but you didn't ask me. Are you sure they didn't sedate you?"

His hand moved from my chin to wrap around my neck. As his breath brushed my cheek, he leaned down and whispered ominously in my ear, "Not only are we getting married. I'm going to fuck you senseless until this gorgeous body of yours swells with my child, binding you to me."

I ripped the oxygen tube out of my nose and jumped out of the bed. Keeping my back to the wall, I shook my head. "You're mad."

He stalked around the hospital bed as he gestured toward it. "Get your ass back in that bed. Now."

I lunged for the door.

He snatched me around the waist and pulled me back.

My legs kicked out as I screamed, "Get off me, you sociopath!"

Var fell back onto the bed with me in his arms before rolling to pin me beneath him.

Stretching my arms over my head, he pressed his hips down onto mine. "Fight it all you want, Vivian. You're mine now."

Although he had me trapped, he was careful not to put any pressure on my ribcage. I filled my lungs with air as a turbulent mix of panic, fear, and arousal took hold.

It was like I took some kind of sick pleasure in deliberately baiting this man to bring out a feral response in him. I was like Belle racing across dangerously thin ice, secretly hoping the Beast would catch me.

While it was bonkers to even contemplate marriage to him, it was also mind-blowingly hot to think he was determined to have me as his wife. I mean, most girls wait years for their boyfriends to propose. How could I not be a tiny bit flattered? Not considering, of course, that it was ludicrously irresponsible and insane to even consider it.

"Why are you doing this?"

He studied my face. His gaze was intense. "Because I won't lose you. I refuse to lose you."

I struggled against his grasp. "You're not making sense."

He tightened his fingers around my wrist. "You almost died today. On my watch. "

I pulled my shoulders up off the mattress as I strained against him. "It had nothing to do with you. It was just a stupid accident."

"You don't know that for certain. You defied me and returned to your apartment, knowing there was a man out there gunning for you. That will not happen again."

"The Russian guy is taken care of."

His breath came fast and harsh against my cheek as he angrily tightened his grasp around my wrists. "You have no way of knowing that. Christ, Vivian. We still don't know his fucking name or which syndicate he works for. Do you have any idea how many of these bastards are talented enough to kill you and make it look like an accident?"

I shook my head. "No. I won't let you gaslight me into thinking I'm in some kind of danger and need to marry you for my own protection. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Var, but I'm not falling for it."

And I truly didn't know what game he was playing.

It wasn't like I was an heiress or some mafia princess with awesome criminal credentials.

I was a decent art forger. That was it.

Wait.

Could that be it?

Var had all but admitted that he mixed in the art world to launder money. Had he lied about not wanting me to create any more forgeries? Could he be trying to trap me into marriage to force me to paint exclusively for him?

No.

That was not possible.

Marriage was an intense, permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Unless it wouldn't be permanent for him…

My gaze moved over his face. Anger radiated off him like heat. It was no secret he'd committed violence in his career with the mafia. Just because he promised not to kill me then, when he found me in the warehouse, didn't mean he promised never to kill me.

His lips thinned as a muscle in his cheek twitched. He clenched his jaw so tightly, I swore I heard a tooth crack from the pressure. "You think we're playing a fucking game, Viv?"

He shifted my wrists to one hand and ran his free hand over the side of my face, to my neck. "Fine. Then let me explain the rules to you."