Page 4 of Forced Marriage Vows
“Mikhail,” the woman standing in front of me whines, drawing my attention.
Her presence had reduced to a haze in the back of my mind. I look down at her and arch an eyebrow.
“I don’t remember telling you my name or asking you to use it.”
Her eyes widen. “I was just?—”
“It’s fine. You can go,” I say dismissively, already walking away.
When I look at Anthony, he’s back to partying and his sister is nowhere in sight. A muscle ticks in my jaw. I walk over, gesturing for him to leave his posse for a minute. I send out a quick text before he gets to me.
“Having fun, man?” he asks, once he’s in front of me.
I’m surprised he’s not slurring yet. He looks absolutely wasted.
“Sure,” I reply dryly. “Where did your sister go?”
If he was in his right mind, he’d immediately ask why I want to know. But thankfully, he’s too out of it to care.
“She said she had to pick up a work call. Went outside,” he replies casually.
Someone passes us, pushing a glass into Anthony’s hand.
“No. You’ve had enough,” I say, reaching for the cup.
“Come on, man. It’s my birthday.”
“Yes, and getting mind-numbingly drunk is the best way to celebrate it,” I say sarcastically. “Just try to sober up a little, man. I’ll be back soon.”
I’m not sure if he’ll listen to me. Anthony only does what Anthony wants to do. Years of being friends with him has taughtme that it’s easier to clean up his messes than try to keep them from happening.
When I step outside, my assistant Jerome is already on hand with what I requested via text. He hands the bag to me and I offer him a grateful nod before going in search of the blonde woman who keeps sneaking into my thoughts.
I finally finding her pacing at the back of the club while speaking on the phone. She tends to do that a lot, pacing. Never mind the fact that she’s clearly in pain due to the shoes she’s wearing.
There’s no one else here. It’s quiet, peaceful. I lean against the wall, waiting for her to notice me while I listen in on her conversation.
“This is so unprofessional. I came to New York because you assured me that my pictures had been selected for the magazine. And now you’re trying to take that back?” she asks, visibly angry.
She’s incredibly beautiful. I don’t know how I never noticed it before. She runs a hand through her blonde hair, flipping her luscious curls to the back. Her full lips press into a thin line as she listens to the person on the other line. Her hips sway as she continues her pacing, despite the fact that I’m sure her feet must hurt like hell right now. It’s obvious she’s more preoccupied with whatever’s going wrong with her work.
I didn’t even know she worked? Pictures? There’s so much I don’t know about her. I wonder why I suddenly even care to know.
“I understand you have no control over it. But I also need you to understand that this is bullshit.”
My lips twitch at that. There’s that fire. She trades a couple more words with the person on the other line before hanging up the call. Once she does, she turns around. Her mouth opens in a silent scream once she notices me standing there.
“What the fuck?” she says, her hand going up to her chest. “You scared me.”
I push away from the wall and walk forward until I’m standing in front of her. She looks up at me, her deep brown eyes meeting mine. I can see the surprise in them, and the unasked questions. I’ve never sought her out like this before. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but here I am.
“You shouldn’t be in dark places alone at night, Anastasia,” I tell her in a low tone, my gaze trailing over her face.
“Neither should you. Why were you standing there like a creep?” she retorts.
Instead of answering, I hand her the bag in my hand.
“Put them on,” I state.