Page 34 of Frozen Heart

“I will clear some space for you.”

I jerked and looked up. Radimir was gazing at me from his office. How long had he been watching me?

“No need,” I told him, and pointed. “My entire wardrobe will fit between your blue shirts and your white shirts.”

“I’ll buy you more,” he said solemnly.

So, I look the part, like Lilliya. The perfect mafia wife.I couldn’t imagine power-dressing like the women at the funeral. I spent my life in jeans and sneakers.He’s marrying the wrong woman.

I dropped onto one of the big leather couches and brooded. I couldn’t love him, and I wasn’t going to give in to temptation and let him fuck me again, however much I craved that. But if we were going to be trapped in this marriage, I wanted us to get along.What if I learned Russian?That would help, right?

I downloaded a language learning app for my phone, put in some earbuds and stretched out on the couch for a few hours, repeating—and mangling—things likeWhat time is the trainandI’d like to buy a hat. When my stomach started rumbling, I went into the kitchen and dug through the refrigerator. There was some weird stuff with Russian labels I wasn’t brave enough to try but there was enough regular food that I managed to whip up one of my triple-decker comfort sandwiches with turkey,cheese, tomatoes, mustard, pickles and chips. I made one for Radimir, too. He was on some sort of conference call, so I just set it down on the corner of his desk and quickly retreated. He looked up, surprised, and nodded in thanks.

I hit the Russian app for another hour and then, when my brain was fried, I pulled out a book and lay on one of the couches to read. It was long enough that I could lie on my stomach, my favorite position for reading ever since I was a kid. My mind slipped into the story: I was in sun-drenched Texas and my horse was sick and the only guy who could help her was the one I’d sworn I’d stay away from?—

“You’ll strain your eyes.”

I jerked, rolled onto my side to look up and nearly fell off the couch. I must have been reading for hours because the penthouse was dark. Radimir was standing beside the couch, gazing down at me, his expression unreadable in the shadows. “It’s time for bed,” he told me, and his accent carved so much into those four words. A touch of humor, like he thought it was cute that I’d gotten caught up in reading. A little protectiveness, as if he really didn’t want me to strain my eyes. And an undercurrent of heat that soaked right to my core and rippled down between my thighs.

I put my book down and followed him through to the bedroom. He started to undress, and I watched his body slowly appear. It was the first time I’d seen him with his shirt off in good light and suddenly I couldn’t drag my eyes from the hulking, caramel swells of his shoulders and the thick slabs of his pecs. He was so...hard,everything deliciously sculpted. Nathan, my ex, had had muscles, too, but they’d looked pumped up, somehow, built over time with gym sessions and protein shakes. Radimir looked like he’d started out big and then his brutal life had stripped away anything unnecessary until there was only muscle left. And there were so many scars: thin, raised lines thathad to be from knives and a couple of circular, glossy scars that must be from bullets. I could see his tattoos more clearly now, too, the stars and rose on his chest that I knew must be to do with the Bratva, and a long string of Russian words that wound around his torso like a rope.

He got into bed and—wait what the hell?I’d caught a glimpse of his feet as he slid them under the covers and for a second, it had looked like…Nah.It must have been a trick of the light.

He looked at me and I realized I was still standing there fully dressed.Shit.I should have quickly shed my clothes while he was occupied. I lifted my hands to the hem of my sweater.He’s already seen me naked. It’s no big deal.But I just couldn’t, not with him lying there, watching me. I panicked and darted into the en suite, then stood there gripping the edge of the sink, staring at myself in the mirror.Are we really going to share the bed, just lie there next to each other all night and not…I trusted him to stick to the rules. I wasn’t sure I trusted myself.

I looked at the bag of clothes I’d brought.What do mafia wives wear in bed?Lipstick, stockings and a willing smile, probably. I needed to send a message. I needed to make sure he knew sex was absolutely off the table.

I took off my make-up. Then I dug through my bag and found a dark green nightshirt with a curled-up cartoon raccoon and the wordsSleepy time, now.I took a deep breath, walked back out into the bedroom and stood there looking at him, head held high.There. That’s as sexy as you’re getting.

Except...it didn’t go how I’d hoped.

He turned to look at me and his eyes instantly narrowed in lust. The muscles of his chest and arms tensed, like he was about to pounce, and he actually leaned forward an inch or two before he managed to stop himself. I gulped. But I also felt a deep rush of something like pride. He made me feel more wanted, like this,than Nathan ever had even when I’d been dressed up in silk and lace.

I slipped under the covers and lay on my side, turned away from him. And then, because it felt awkward not to, “Goodnight.”

I could feel his gaze sweeping up and down the outline of my body under the sheets. Then, “Sleep well,Krasavitsa.” And he turned off the light.

I lay there, my heart hammering, waiting for the first touch of those big hands on my ass, my legs, my breasts.Any second now.He’d grab my arm and tug me flat on my back, then kick my legs apart and?—

Seconds passed and I fought to make my breathing slow and easy. I didn’t want him to know I was lying there expectantly. Ready.Aching.What’s happening to me?

I was trapped with a monster. One I couldn’t resist.

24

RADIMIR

I laythere staring at her. At that mass of copper hair that spilled across the pillow. At the tiny scrap of pale, bare skin visible between her hair and the collar of her nightshirt. At the hills and valleys her body made under the sheets.Fuck.That nightshirt was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. The way her breasts swayed and bobbed under the soft cotton, making it obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra? The way it emphasized her long, bare legs, reminding me that I could just sweep my hands up her thighs and tug down her panties and she’d be ready to go? The way it looked so fucking innocent, but her curves made it sonot…

I knew I wasn’t being rational and that was the problem with Bronwyn: I was never rational, around her.Why is she so different?I’d never been so close to losing control with any of the Russian women I’d fucked. What made it worse was that I knew she wanted me, too. I’d seen it in her eyes and now I could hear it in her breathing.

I sighed and stared at the ceiling. if something was going to happen, it had to come from her. I was a monster. But I wasn’t going to act like one.

This is going to be hell.

25

BRONWYN