Chapter 23

"He's just an ass sometimes. He can't help it." Marlena pours me another glass of wine. It's my fourth.

Or maybe fifth?

It doesn't matter. The big ass margarita she gave me while we destroyed a platter of nachos has already done me in.

"Can't help what?" I ask, sipping the peach wine. It's sweet. Just like Marlena and Izzy. They've been trying to make me forget that the man who tricked me into this year-long marriage doesn't love me.

It's fine.

I told them it's fine.

I already knew he didn't.

But hearing him say it.

And like that.

I take another sip.

"He was in love once." Izzy glances over her shoulder. We're in the kitchen, and the swinging door is closed.

"Who was?" Marlena asks. I think the second margarita did her in, too.

"Sergei." Izzy laughs. "He was in love, a long time ago. He was actually engaged. Was supposed to marry this woman, but she ran away."

"She ran away?" I cover my mouth when a small burp escapes, which makes me giggle.

"Yeah. Just before the wedding." Izzy nods and finishes off her glass of wine.

"So, he is capable of love." Marlena sighs. "That's good. Then we just need to make him fall in love with Cora."

"No. No." As I shake my head, the world spins three times before settling back down.

"You don't want him to love you?" Marlena adjusts herself on the kitchen stool.

"We have an agreement." I point to her. "One year, then we divorce. It's the agreement. I'm just a business… thing." I let out a long breath.

I should probably tattoo it somewhere, so I don't forget. Because this last week, it didn't feel like a business arrangement.

I don't think bosses do the things he does to me every night to their employees.

"Divorce?" Izzy says the word like I've just told her he's going to murder me on our wedding anniversary.

"Yeah." I nod and take another sip. I can't really taste the wine anymore, but that's fine. I can't really feel my feet either.

I laugh.

"Petrovs don't divorce," Marlena says with a severe expression. "Viktor was very serious when he told me that. It's why he won't pressure me to marry him; once it's done, it's done."

"But you're going to marry him, you just haven't told him yet," Izzy says and pats Marlena's cheek. "You should tell him soon though, put the poor bastard out of his misery."

Marlena laughs.

"What do you mean they don't divorce. People get divorced every day." I grab onto the edge of the counter to keep from slipping off my stool.

"Yeah, but not Petrovs. They stay married no matter what." Izzy nods with each word. "So, I don't know what he told you, but you're going nowhere." She slashes her hand through the air, almost diving off the stool in the process.

"I need to ask him again about that. When I brought it up before he…" A blush takes me over. "He changed the subject."

"Here you are." A male voice ruins the room. It's Viktor. He takes one look at us, then shakes his head. "They're in the kitchen and they're wasted," he calls to someone.

A moment later, Andrei shows up with a scowl on his face and Sergei steps inside, his jaw set like he's going to lecture me.

I put my finger up at him before he can get his mouth open.

"She's flipping you off." Viktor laughs and slaps Sergei on the back.

I look at my hand, letting my fingers come into focus until I realize he's right. I am.

"I didn't mean to." I push my middle finger down and raise my pointer. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say, Sergei."

"It's time to go home." He moves across the kitchen to me, his arms already out so he can catch me. Which is good, because I think I'm falling.

"Maybe I don't wanna go home," I say as he lifts me from the stool. "Maybe I wanna live here now." I wrap my arms around his neck.

"No." He stamps the word into the air.

"Why not?" I breathe out and rest my head against his chest.

"Because you live with me," he says and we're moving.

"I don't want to leave yet though. I'm having fun."

"You're drunk." He turns so we're facing the kitchen. "Say good night."

"Good night!" I wave an arm through the air and Sergei has to hold me tighter to keep from dropping me.

"What did you drink?" Sergei asks me as he carries me from the elevator to his car in the parking garage.

"It stinks down here," I say as my stomach rolls a little.

"It's a garage," he says. The car beeps and he opens the passenger side door, gently putting me inside. The cool leather feels so nice against my face when I turn toward it.

"What did you drink, Cora?" he asks again while pulling the seat belt over me.

"I dunno. Margaritas and wine." I press the button on the side of the seat and lay it down until he stops me.

"You can't lay all the way, that's enough." He cups my face, pulling my attention to him. "You're mad at me."

"I am?" I blink. "Oh, yes. I am. But it's fine. We're just business associates. It's okay. You don't have to love me." I try to smile, but there are tears rolling down my cheeks. I have no idea where they came from.

"No, Cora. We're not business associates," he corrects me, wiping the tears from my face.

"We're not?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"Oh." I nod because he seems to want me to, not because I understand. Because I don't understand anything right now, other than I'm really tired, and my head is spinning.

"You know, you are really sexy when you smile. I wish you'd do it more often." I touch his cheek, pulling it upward until I've stretched his mouth into an awkward grin.

"I'll smile more then," he promises while moving my hand back to my lap. "Do you think you're going to throw up?"

I shake my head a little. "I don't know." But even as I say it, my stomach rolls. I swallow hard then close my eyes. It would help if the car would stop spinning so much.

"All right." He goes to the trunk then comes back and hands me a black duffel bag. "It's here if you need it." He puts it on the floor by my feet.

I nod.

"You're so good to me, Sergei." I smile.

He grunts. The door shuts. A moment later it dips when he gets in.

"I'm tired."

"Then go to sleep," he says as he slowly pulls the car into traffic. It's dark outside now, and he's put on the air conditioning in the car. It feels so nice. I turn the vent so it's blowing right on me.

"Always so bossy," I grumble as I close my eyes. "I know you don't love me, and that's okay, but maybe someday you'll like me a little." I sigh again.

"Sleep," he says quietly, his hand resting on my knee.

It's okay if he doesn't love me. I think I love him enough for both of us.