Chapter 9

Mrs. Yugov greets me when I enter the house with a tense smile pressed to her lips.

"You're back," she says, relief evident in her eyes. She reaches for my jacket as I slip out of it and takes my purse with it, hanging both in the small closet beside the door.

"Thanks, I'll take that to my room. Is everything all right?" I ask when she reaches for my computer bag.

"Of course." She looks over her shoulder. "Sergei is home. He's been looking for you."

I bite on the inside of my cheek. I declined three calls from him this afternoon. A man like him probably isn't used to being sent to voicemail.

"Were you able to get done what you wanted to get done?" she asks, peeking over her shoulder.

I'm not usually a breakfast fan, but Mrs. Yugov had made me a plate before I even came downstairs. It smelled too good to pass up. When she tried to coax me into staying home, I explained how much better I concentrate with the busy sounds of the coffee shop around me.

"Not as much as I wanted," I sigh. There's not an overabundant job market right now for inexperienced administrative assistants. The three months I worked at the realtor's office isn't getting me in any more doors even for an interview.

I spent the afternoon looking for cheap administrative assistant online classes that might help me get a better paying job quickly. Unfortunately, even the cheapest classes are too expensive when you have nothing in the bank.

If the police officer had showed up again, and I had been able to get more information for Sergei—even better.

But I wasn't able to even settle into my usual table before I got a call from Mom's facility.

The last two hours have drained me. I'm in no mood to fight with Sergei, and the text I received from him earlier expressed his annoyance that I didn't stay tethered to his house while he was away for the day.

"He's in his office," she warns. "That hall there, the third door on the left."

I nod.

"So, avoid that, got it." I give her a thumbs up.

She chuckles. "He'll find you no matter where you hide. He's a persistent man when he wants something."

It's my turn to laugh.

"Then not to worry. He doesn't actually want me, he just needs…" I let the words die. I'm not sure if it's all right for anyone to know that our marriage is to be on paper only. And for only a short period. Mrs. Yugov has been with him for years and years, and can be trusted, but it may not be something he wants known.

"I'm going to go upstairs. I promise I'll deal with him in a little bit." I sling my bag over my shoulder.

"No. You'll deal with him now." Sergei's unmistakable voice precedes him. A breath later, he steps around the corner, a sour expression already forming on his face.

"Sergei, I didn't realize you were right there."

"Of course not." He turns his stare onto Mrs. Yugov.

"I'll go get dinner started." She hurries away, pausing only a moment near him and muttering something in Russian.

His face tightens for a second but then he gives her a soft nod, before she heads to the kitchen.

"Don't be mad at her," I say.

"I'm not. She's not the one who left this morning when she was told not to."

"That's not really a fair statement. You didn't say I had to stay here today. That was last night." There's a gray area somewhere, and that's where I live. In that little spot of not complying but not outright rebelling either.

"Come with me," he says, turning on his highly polished heel and walking off. I debate for a split second not going with him, but realize he'd probably just drag me with him, and I don't need to make a scene.

He leads me through the first floor down the hall Mrs. Yugov had directed me to his office. After pushing the door open, he steps aside and gestures for me to enter.

Once he joins me, he shuts the door and flips the lock on the handle.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want to be disturbed," he says, reaching for my computer bag. I swing my shoulder away, out of his reach.

"I can hold it."

His eyebrow darts up. "Hold it?"

"I mean you don't need to take it."

He grabs me by the shoulders, spins me until he can reach the bag and easily takes it from me.

"I'm not keeping it." He puts it down on a table near the door. "Should I look inside? Will I find something you don't want me to see?"

"It's just my computer and a notebook." I raise my chin.

"You went somewhere with your computer, why?" he asks.

"I wanted to work on my resume and apply for some jobs."

"You're looking for a job? You work at the country club still, right?" he questions.

"How did you know about that?"

"I saw you there. Months ago."

"Ohmigod, that was you," I whisper. My insides tingle at the flicker of a memory.

I had seen him. My boss had been going off on me for something and a man in a dark suit with a severe expression walked nearby. Jason had noticed him and straightened up, forced himself to smile, and hurried off.

It was Sergei. When I'd seen him in that news article, he'd looked so damn familiar. But I wasn't sure, and I'd thought it silly to even consider that he'd be at that club. Even sillier that he'd take an interest in what was happening between a server and the boss.

"Yes. Did your boss do something? Is that why you are looking for a new job?"

"It's not a permanent job. I'm on the call list. So, if they're short, they call me in. I was working at a real estate office for a few months, but I got let go last week." It's not helpful to have your main phone operator have to keep leaving work to run across town to help calm her mother down whenever a doctor showed up unexpectedly in her room.

Sergei's jaw ticks.

"You have no job then." I can give him some credit; he's trying to have patience. "Is that what you're telling me? That's why you needed the money so badly?"

"I don't have one right now, but I will. I just need to send out more resumes. Get some more experience. Then I'll be able to get a job and keep a job. I mean, once I'm able to take care of a few things." I take a small breath. "And I work best at the coffee house, so I went there. Because I need to find a job. Soon."

He closes his eyes for a moment, and if I'm not seeing things, I think he's muttering to himself.

Finally, he opens them.

"We'll talk about the job situation later." He points a long finger at me. "I told you to stay here."

"Well, I needed to go out," I say firmly. "Look, this arrangement is only going to last a month or so, right?"

"I don't know how long this will take." He lifts a shoulder like he's untroubled by the idea that he could be legally tied to me for longer than he wants. Or I want.

I shake off his nonchalant attitude.

"Well, there's no reason for it to completely disrupt my life or yours. I don't see why we even need to see each other." Yes. Good. These are good arguments.

"You don't?" His expression hardens. Maybe only one of us is seeing the logic in my words right now.

"No. I mean if it wasn't for my apartment flooding, I wouldn't even be here, right?" My tongue thickens as his stare darkens. "And last night, I mean, that was just, well, it shouldn't have happened."

If his eyebrow rises any more, it might disappear in his hair. His thick, lush hair.

"There are problems with what you're saying." He advances toward me, holding up a finger. "One, I already told you, you were moving in with me. You convinced yourself that you wouldn't be, but you were wrong." He lifts another finger. "And two, even if this arrangement is for a short time, everything about it will be very real. You will wear my ring, carry my name, and will be my wife in every way that matters."

"You want me to change my name for a month? That's crazy. I'm not doing that." I retreat a step and then another when he moves toward me.

"It will take time for the legal matters I need resolved to be completed. It might take more than a month."

"How long?" It's not like I really have a choice at this point.

"I don't know," he deadpans.

"So, for who knows how long, I have to put my life on hold? What if I want to date someone?"

"Date someone?" The words shake from the raw grate of his voice.

"I just mean, this isn't going to be forever, and it's not real, and I'm not getting any younger. If someone asks me out…" My voice gives out as he takes one last step, and I'm pinned against the wall.

He lowers his face to within a breath of mine. The musky scent of his aftershave sends a tingle down my spine. Or maybe it's the way he's looking at me, like he's fighting the urge to grab me, to hurt me. No, not hurt.

He's dangerous. My brain knows it, but I can't help also knowing he wouldn't hurt me. He's a contradiction. There's a soft edge to his fierceness that can't be explained.

"If a man asks you out, I will rip his tongue from his mouth." Everything in the delivery of this statement screams that he's telling me the truth.

"Sergei," I squeak out his name.

"If a man touches you, I will take his hand. If a man dares speak your name out of turn, I will have his vocal cords. Do I make myself clear, Coraline? Do you understand what it means to be mine?"

My throat is too dry to let any sound past, so I nod. A pathetic little movement.

"Say the words, Coraline. Tell me you understand that once you speak your vows, you are mine completely, no matter how long or how short a time. Tell me." He presses his forearm to the wall just above my head.

I swallow.

"I understand, Sergei," I finally manage to say. My eyes are trapped in his stare.

His free hand comes to my cheek. He cups my face, running his thumb over my bottom lip, pulling it slightly.

"What do you understand? Tell me." His voice lowers.

I can barely think with him this close, and now he's touching me, breaking my brain.

"When we're married, I'm yours. In every way," I whisper.

"Yes." He nods, moving his hand from my cheek to my chin, pushing it up until my mouth tilts up to meet his. "That's a good girl," he says against my lips.

And I melt.

I move my hands to his chest, thinking to break the kiss before things get out of hand again. I can't repeat last night. It was wrong to let him touch me like that.

But when my palms touch him, his heartbeat comes through, and I find myself leaning into him. He deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue past my lips, and I curl my hands around the lapels of his jacket.

"Cora." He brushes his nose against me as he softly mutters my name.

"Yes, Sergei?" I breathe in a long breath. My heart slams into my ribs again and again. He's still holding me against the wall. He brushes his mouth against mine again.

"You've earned another punishment."