Chapter 6

"What are you doing in here?" A growly voice wakes me only moments after I've finally fallen asleep.

Sergei's fierce scowl is pointed down at me when I open my eyes. He's turned on the small lamp on the side table beside the bed, casting his sinister glare in a shadow.

"Sleeping," I say, grabbing for the blanket at the same time he does. We yank at it in a warped game of tug of war, which I lose easily since he's a mammoth of muscle and it's been over a year since I've seen the inside of a gym.

"Why are you doing it in here?" He drags the blanket down to my feet, following it with his gaze over me. I grapple for the hem of my nightshirt and tug it down, but I grabbed the short one when I changed for bed. It only goes down to mid-thigh. And that's where his eyes settle. On my thighs.

"Because." I sit up, reaching for the blankets but he grabs hold of my wrist.

"I told you; you're staying in my room."

"I know, but I decided that wouldn't be right. Mrs. Yugov said I could use this room." I wrench my wrist free of his grasp and fold my legs beneath me.

"Why wouldn't it be right to do what I told you to do?" He stands up to his full height, folding his arms over his chest. It's now that I realize he's not wearing a shirt. He's standing in a pair of low-hugging pajama pants.

My mind blanks.

No wonder I nearly broke my nose walking into him earlier. He's nothing but muscle. And tattoos. They cover his chest, and his arms all the way down to his wrists.

"Cora. I asked you a question," he says when I remain lost in the beauty that is him.

"What?" I blink then move my gaze up to his face. He's still scowling.

"Why would doing what you were told be wrong?" he asks again, feigning patience. To be honest, he looks like it's hurting him not to just grab me and put me where he wants me. But why would he want me in his room?

"Because. We've known each other for a full twelve hours. It wouldn't be right."

"Did you agree to marry me?" he presses.

"Well, yes, but that's different. It's a business arrangement like we said and it's not right for me to sleep in the same room with my… boss." I toss his word back at him. The sleep fog clears from my mind and I'm ready to battle wills again.

His left eye twitches slightly.

"I don't want you in here." His tone suggests that's the end of the topic. He turns and gestures toward the door. "Let's go."

I laugh. He can't think it's that simple.

"No."

"What?" He cocks his head, like he's uncertain he heard me, but the dark cloud that drifts into his gaze tells me his hearing was sound.

"I said no. I'm fine right here." I glance at the clock on the side table. "It's two in the morning. I'm going back to sleep." I grab hold of the blankets, fling myself back on the absurdly soft pillows, and pull the covers up to my chin.

I close my eyes.

"All right," he grumbles and I'm sure I've won.

But then the blankets go flying again, and his arms dive beneath me and I'm lifted off the bed.

"Sergei!" I yell as I'm tossed over his shoulder. My stomach rolls for a second, but then we're moving, and I'm too concerned with where he's taking me to worry about my discomfort.

"I said you sleep in my room, so that's where you sleep." He enunciates his statement with a hard slap to my ass, which is only covered by my panties since my nightgown has scrunched up at my waist.

He carries me out into the hall. No amount of wiggling is getting me loose from his grip. I'm carried easily like a sack of potting soil to his room.

The door shakes the wall when it slams shut behind us.

He dumps me on the bed.

I scramble off the bed and he grabs hold of me before I can get two steps away from him.

"Why must you defy me?" he asks, annoyance carrying in his words.

"I'm not defying you. I'm just not all that into being dragged from bed," I explain, tugging on my arm, but he doesn't give.

"Then you should have been where I put you." He lets go of my arm. "Have you decided not to go through with our arrangement?"

My throat clenches. That would put me squarely back at the beginning of having nowhere to turn.

"No. Of course not. It's just, well, like you said, you're the boss. And bosses don't sleep with their subordinates. So I figured I'd take the other room. You know, because we don't really know each other at all, and if this is just a short, temporary thing, then there's no reason to get comfortable around each other."

"You ramble when you're nervous." He reaches behind me, pulling the bedding down on the bed. The other side is already disturbed, like he'd gotten into bed before realizing I wasn't there.

"I'm not nervous. I'm annoyed. You're very bossy and you keep manhandling me." I rub my arm where his grip had been. It doesn't hurt, but a little sympathy from him would be nice.

He jerks his hand at the bed. "You'll get used to it. Now, get into bed."

"I'll get used to what?" I ask.

"Me. Last chance to get in on your own." His lips pinch together.

"Fine." I climb back up into the bed and get settled. He yanks the blankets over me then carefully folds them at my chin before stalking around the massive bed and climbing in on his side.

A heavy arm drops over my stomach.

I wish I'd grabbed a longer nightshirt from my suitcases when I got dressed for bed. I'd been so tired from the huge dinner Mrs. Yugov made for me, and all the worrying I did over my mother's paperwork, I'd just wanted to climb into bed and pass out. I hadn't counted on him stealing me from my bed.

But I am fully awake now.

The room settles into a thick silence. After enough time passes, I look over at him.

The blanket is only covering him up to his waist, and he's sleeping on his stomach. Even his back is sexy.

"You're staring," his voice rumbles.

I drag my eyes from his half-naked body back up to his face and find his dark eyes peering at me.

"I thought you were asleep." Which only makes it creepier, but it was the first thing that popped into my head.

"Not yet." He looks at me.

"Maybe you'd sleep better if you had the bed to yourself." He's too close. I shouldn't be in his bed.

"Your place is here. Don't ask again for your own room."

I turn back to staring at the ceiling. His arm, while heavy, is comforting as it lays over me. "Did you have dinner? I think there's leftovers for you in the fridge, if you didn't eat."

"I did."

"Oh." What do you talk about with a man you've only met a few hours ago and are sharing his bed and are about to become his fake wife? "What did you have?" I'm usually much better at conversations, but his bare foot touches mine beneath the covers.

"I don't know what it was, some kind of pasta." He leans up on his elbow, looking down at me now with more curiosity.

"Did your meeting go well?" I ask when he grabs the blanket at my throat and gently starts to peel it down the length of me.

"My meeting?" He pushes the blanket to my knees and inspects the black cotton nightshirt I'm wearing with an ironed-on cup of coffee with a smile printed on the cup. My face heats.

"Yeah. You said you had a meeting—what are you doing?" I ask when he moves his hand to the hem of the nightshirt.

His hand glides beneath the thin cotton right to my hip, where he finds my panties firmly in place. "I don't like these." He frowns.

"My underwear?" It's too bad; every pair is just like it.

"Yes. I don't like them on when you're in my bed." He slips his fingers into the elastic and starts to tug them down.

"Why?" I grab hold of his wrist. "I mean, this is just… remember?" What was it we called it?

He scoots closer to me and looks down at my hand on his wrist.

"Our marriage won't last long, but it will be a marriage in every sense," he informs me.