Chapter 5

"This is your house?" I step out of the car and crane my neck to look up at the enormity before me.

"What did I tell you about opening your own door?" Sergei grumbles when he gets to my side.

"It's a door." I shrug. "But seriously, this whole thing is yours?" I gesture at the mansion.

The front door to the house opens and man wearing a black polo shirt and slacks jogs down the three steps to the walkway and then to the locked gate where we stand.

"Park it for the night." Sergei holds the gate open for me as he calls to the guy again. "There's bags in the back, bring them inside, up to the guest suite."

"Oh, I can get them." I turn to go back to where Sergei has the car parked for the moment, but Sergei tugs on my arm.

"He'll get them. Let's get inside."

I hurry to keep up with his wide stride, tripping on the bottom step of the stairs. He catches me before my knee hits the next step.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"He was going too fast," a woman standing in the doorway says with a warm smile. She says more, but it's in Russian and aimed at Sergei.

He glowers back at her, and I'm sure she's going to run off. The man has a sharp glare that would make anyone unnerved.

But she merely brushes his hand from my arm.

"Come inside, it's supposed to rain tonight," she says, pointing up at the dark clouds rolling in.

"It's not raining yet," Sergei says. "Coraline, this is Mrs. Yugov; she runs the house. If you need anything you just ask her, and she'll make sure you get it."

I take her in. She's shorter than I, and her silver hair is pulled into a high bun. Her smile warms her features, and she feels more like the mother of the home, not the housekeeper.

"Coraline? Is that your name?"

"Please, call me Cora. Everyone else does." I glance at Sergei, who's looking at his phone. "Except him. He refuses."

She laughs. "He's a stubborn one, but he's decent enough. Will you be staying with us long?" She side-eyes Sergei. She must have heard him telling the man about my bags.

"She's my fiancée. She'll be with us from now on," Sergei states flatly, stuffing his phone into a pocket. "It's late. I have a meeting I need to get to. I'll show her to her room." He cups my elbow again and leads me toward the grand staircase. This entire place looks like something out of Architectural Digest .

"It was nice meeting you," I try to say to her before I'm whisked up the stairs.

"I'll have my own room?" I ask when we're walking silently down a long hallway with large oil paintings hanging on the walls.

"Yes," he says, then stops. I walk straight into his back and bounce back a step. "No."

"No?" I rub my nose. It was like walking into a brick wall.

He turns on his heel, stares down at me with concern. Brushing my hand away, he lifts my chin, tilting my face back then to the side.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I assure him. "I didn't think you were going to stop so fast. I shouldn't have been walking so close."

He brushes the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, lowering his face closer to me. I move my gaze to his mouth. Full lips outlined by his dark beard, they part slightly, and I'm sure he's going to kiss me.

I move up to my toes, thinking to meet him halfway.

And then nothing.

"You'll stay in my room." He lets go of my chin and the next second he's back to a full stride. I'm stuck for another moment, letting my brain catch up to the rest of me.

"Your room? Why?" I hurry to get up to him.

"Because we're engaged, and we'll be married soon. No need to keep moving rooms." He pushes the door at the end of the hall open and sweeps his arm for me to enter.

I pause a moment at the doorway, then step inside. He flicks a switch on the wall and the room illuminates. My breath sticks right in my throat.

My entire apartment can fit in this room. And the furniture, every piece emulates masculinity. Deep brown leather chairs and a loveseat in the sitting area. Wood paneling on the walls. The bed glows with luxury. I'm not sure I want to touch anything in this room.

This entire place feels very much like when I was a kid and Mom would take me to a museum. She would have me hold my hands behind my back to keep the temptation of touching anything under control. I will definitely need to deploy that tactic in this house.

"Did you say we'd be married soon? How soon?" His words finally penetrate fully. It's already Thursday. Tomorrow is the end of the week.

"Saturday morning." He nods. "My attorney will be here first thing that morning so we can sign all the legal paperwork and a judge will be here right after so we can get it done."

It's all so matter of fact.

Since I was a little girl, I'd envisioned my wedding day. Flipping through my parents' wedding album, I'd pretend it was me in the pictures marrying the love of my life.

Just like Mom did.

"Is something wrong?" he asks when I keep silent.

"No. Not at all." I drop my purse onto the nightstand beside the bed and walk over to the thick curtains framing the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"It's just business," I say, pushing the lace curtains away from the window and looking down at the city below. We're on the third floor of the house overlooking the backyard. It's small, but pretty with beds of flowers all along the perimeter. There's a stone patio with a gas grill and an outside sitting area.

"What is?" he asks, moving to stand beside me.

I feel his gaze on me and turn toward him. He's studying me, like he's not sure what to make of me.

Serves him right. I have no idea what to make of him. One minute he's demanding I pack bags and come with him to his place and yelling over the phone at my landlord about the mess of my apartment, and now we're here, and I sense he'd like to be anywhere else.

"This arrangement. It's just a business arrangement. So, makes sense we'd just get a judge and get it over with," I say.

"Were you hoping for a large ceremony? With a party?" He eyes me suspiciously, like I'm trying to manipulate him in some way.

"No," I assure him. "When I get married for real, of course I do. But this is just a transaction. I help you; you help me. Nothing more than that." My brain completely agrees, but the fluttering in my stomach suggests that I wouldn't mind something a bit more than a transaction with this man.

Even when he's growly looking, I can't help but want to lean into him and feel his strength embrace me.

"Good." He nods after a moment. "That's all it is."

"Right." I turn back to the window. "I'm sorry I kept you today, I'm sure you have a lot of work to do."

His stare lingers on me for a long stretch.

"I do," he finally says. "I'll be out the rest of the night. Mrs. Yugov will get you anything you need. Just ask."

"All right."

"Don't leave the house until I get a driver for you."

"Oh, I don't need a driver." It's better we keep our lives as separate as possible.

"Are you going to fight everything I say?" His eyebrows shoot up with his question.

"I'm not fighting. I'm just saying I can get around on my own."

"No. You can't. Not while you're under my protection."

"I don't need protecting." The words fly out faster and harder than is probably smart, considering how sternly he's glaring at me. But I've gotten along just fine this long without any knight in shining armor to come save me. I need his cash, nothing else.

In a heartbeat, he's toe-to-toe with me. His hand clamps around my chin, pushing my head back. His warm breath washes over my face as his heated stare heats my entire body.

"You were correct when you said this was a business arrangement." His nostrils flare. "And in this business, I am the boss. It's best you understand that now, Cora. Otherwise, you'll have a very difficult time sitting during our short time together."

A tingle courses through me with his words. It's not the reaction I think he wants from me, and it's definitely not what I expected to happen.

"You're going to be late for your meeting," I say when the tension between us thickens beyond comfort.

His eyes rake down my face to my mouth. He's going to kiss me. I fight back the urge to lick my lips. My chest tightens.

He releases me and takes a step back.

"Do not leave this house until I've said it's safe," he says roughly, then turns on his heel and marches out of the room.

The door shuts hard behind him, and I press my forehead against the cool glass of the window.

This is a simple transaction.

Just business.

I lift my head then lightly tap it onto the glass.

Just a transaction.

I glance back at the large king-sized bed with the four posts. The elegance is almost painful to look at considering I've been sleeping on a single mattress on a simple bed frame.

He's the boss of this little business transaction. Is that so?

Well, bosses don't sleep in the same room with their subordinates.

I gather my pride and march from the room.