Emerson sighs softly and looks away. “Another reason we shouldn’t go.”
When I pull away from her, shocked by the weakness of her excuse, she follows me.
“You don’t need your grandfather’s money, Mikhail. You’re wealthy in your own right.” She thrusts her hand at the window displaying the twinkling city lights. “You wouldn’t use a 1.2-million-dollar sports car as a sex chamber if you weren’t.” Her teeth gnaw her bottom lip again, this time in seduction. “So why don’t we spend the night in, watching movies and feasting off each other’s bodies instead?”
“Because this isn’t just about me, Emmy, or the inheritance. It is about us!” I shout, too worked up to speak rationally andmaturely. “And showing them fucks that they didn’t destroy everything you once loved about me!” Emotions I’m not used to handling bubble to the surface faster than I can shut them down. “That you loved me back then. You were just scared.”
She’s taken aback by my outburst but takes it in stride. “I was scared.”
“You still are.”
She shakes her head, sending red locks bouncing across her face.
“Then why don’t you want to do this? Why don’t you want to stand at my side and tell everyone that you’re finally mine?”
She searches my face again, her excavation successful this time.
This isn’t about the inheritance or the pittance we will receive for our attendance tonight. It isn’t even about my mother. It is about replacing the memories in my head where I was mocked relentlessly for “not controlling my woman” and being a jilted groom before the subsequent downgrade to shitkicker in the Dokovic realm.
That’s what the naked stranger in my apartment last year was about. She was a gift from one of my father’s biggest benefactors. A “here, have my leftovers since you can’t get your own woman” taunt. It was a slap to the face.
Although one night won’t erase a decade of torment, having a woman as refined and beautiful as Emerson on my arm will be the sweetest revenge. It will end their games in an instant and have them green with envy.
My eyes float over my wife’s face when she asks, “How long do I have to get ready?”
“An hour.” I smile to announce my gratitude for her understanding before adding, “If you don’t want to fool around in the limo. Twenty minutes if you do.”
My cock twitches when she replies, “I’ll be ready in ten.”
After snatching the dress bag from my hand, Emerson heads to the master’s suite to change. She enters for half a second before she doubles back. The tension left lingering from my unsuspected moment of vulnerability slips away when she drinks in my tuxedo from the thread in the collar to the ankle of its pricy hem.
Her gawk is hungry, and I’m as equally starved when she says, “Pack spare pants. I’ll never get Aunt Marcelle off my back if you’re photographed in cum-stained trousers.”
Chapter 37
Emerson
In front of the vanity mirror, I adjust the delicate straps of a gown that costs more than my first car. The soft fabric clings to my skin, its regalness a reminder of the significance of tonight’s event.
Mikhail’s father’s gala isn’t just another event. It is a testament to the world that the “unworthy” stamp the head of the Dokovic realm marked my forehead with ten years ago has faded, that we’re now part of the same team whether they like it or not.
After learning how people in his inner circle treated Mikhail after we broke up, I should have realized how important tonight’s event is to him. It is about schmoozing the billionaires who fund his father’s campaigns for office. It is about taking back the power they tried to strip from him and showing them that even the strongest men occasionally stumble.
His father could learn a lesson or two from his eldest son.
The stories Mikhail shared over the past week broke my heart while also fortifying my decision to keep Andrik’s secret for a little longer.
Mikhail’s relationship with his father is beyond fractured, and Mikhail believes our rekindling may be the only kilning capable of relighting the fire.
I’m confident Ellis doesn’t deserve the lifeline Mikhail is handing him, but I understand why he is extending an olive branch. His father and Andrik were the only constants in his childhood. From someone raised with an absentee father, I know that makes you cling to the most mundane snippet of attention they grant you—both good and bad.
Mikhail needs his father’s approval of our relationship more than anyone else’s, but unlike the time I spent years of savings on a pretty dress and a bus ticket to the other side of the country, I plan to show Mikhail that the only approval he needs is his own.
Sixteen years ago, I left my father’s hometown heartbroken but determined. His dismissal taught me that my worth consists of who I am, not what I have.
My mother’s love is enough for me—as mine will be for Mikhail as well.
As I add a final coat of mascara to my lashes, Mikhail enters the room, looking suave in a tailored tuxedo that showcases every spectacular ridge of his body. Lust replaces the last of the angst in his now hooded gaze when our eyes lock and hold.
