For once, Maeve couldn’t argue with him. He was right after all. That was the reason why she had been so scared last night when he revealed who he was to her. The family he came from.
Maeve lifted her chin. “And what if I don’t want to attend?”
He smiled. “You will attend,” he said with an air of finality that reminded her of her father. She hated it, hated the commanding tone, the guts he had to speak to her the way he liked. “You will attend because I say so. Rule number two, remember?”
She closed the distance between them and shoved her finger against his hard chest. He didn’t budge, but she wasn’t expecting him to. She wasn’t expecting the dimpled smile that appeared on his face either.
“Fuck you and your stupid rules, Fedya,” she said, her breath hot against his mouth. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll listen to you.”
He caught her finger against his chest, smiled again, and said, “I love it when you say my name.”
Maeve couldn’t understand it—her sudden rapid heartbeat, the nerves bouncing up and down her skin where he held her, her dry throat, her shallow breath. And all these reactions worsened when he lifted her hand to his lips—when she let him—and pressed his soft lips against her knuckles, all the while holding her stare.
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how beautiful you are,” he said, his words hitting her skin like a whiplash. Just a second ago, he was pressing a gun to her skull, and now he was complimenting her. “My beautiful, beautiful Maeve.”
And for some reason, those four words were forcing themselves deep into the crevices of her heart, leaving her breathless, dazed, confused, digging teeth of sudden ache all over her skin. His lips were still kissing her knuckles, trailingfurther down her fingers, peppering small, feverish kisses down her hands until he got to her wrist.
She saw him reach into his pocket, pull out a small, royal blue velvet box, and flick it open to reveal a glimmering diamond ring, the rich blue color the same as his eyes. She remembered him telling her he was going to get her another one, and there it was, staring back at her. Her eyes were on the jewel as he tugged it out of the box and slipped it onto her finger.
“There,” he said, admiring what he’d done, lifting her hand to his lips again and kissing her ring. “This looks better anyway.”
And she was just standing there,letting him, and after she felt the gentle press of his lips against her bandage, she snapped out of it, stepping back like she’d just walked into a fire.
He let her hand go, his smile still present, and then her lips moved, her voice unrecognizable.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
He said nothing. Just tilted his head, observing her bodily reactions to him. Satisfied with whatever he saw, he smiled again. Blinding and beautiful. “I’ll make you dinner. And youwilleat.”
And then he turned away, heading to the kitchen, leaving her there—fingers tingling, ring heavy—grappling with what the hell had just occurred between them.
Chapter 9 - Fedya
Give her space. Don’t chase, don’t corner her. And most importantly, quit provoking her.Irina’s words reverberated in the walls of Fedya’s skull as he fixed the cufflinks of his shirt.You want her to trust you? Then you start by being patient. Don’t overwhelm her in a day.
He almost laughed out loud. What a load of bullshit. Sure, maybe all of that would work if it were any other woman, but Maeve wasn’t any other woman. She was a storm, a force that constantly slammed into him and snatched the air from his lungs.Shewas the one who provoked him.Shewas the one who made him act out of character.Shewas the one eliciting feelings from him that he didn’t think were possible.
And patience wasn’t his best attribute, so of course, he would erupt and say things to her he didn’t like.
She was brave and not afraid to speak to him like he were beneath her. If it were any other person who spoke to him the way she did, they’d be dead before they even hit the floor.
Regret. He hated the feel of it, the bitter taste of it at the back of his throat, the incessant reminder that he may have fucked up big time this time with the way he spoke to her. But he hated her more for being the kind of woman who could still make him feel it.
He had said some things to provoke her, dished out rules to her like she was a puppet, despite knowing she must have lived all of her life under her father’s rules. Fedya was big on control, on the ability to keep his shit together, to keep himself grounded no matter the situation. He could boast about it anywhere. But with Maeve, control was a fickle thing—a thing he was a slave to, a thing that he lost simply with a glare from her.He had no control over his emotions around her, over the words that left his mouth, over his unintentional ways of hurting her.
They said hurtful things to each other every now and then, one provoking the other and vice versa. But the attraction was palpable, undeniable, and Fedya knew it. He felt it in the way her pulse pounded when he held her throat two days ago. He saw it in the way her lashes fluttered when he stood too close. He tasted it when he kissed her knuckles and felt goosebumps break out like hives on her skin.
It had been barely a week since he married her, since he brought her here and began cohabiting with her. But it felt like much longer, much more intense than anything he’d ever felt. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d stared him down, feigning fearlessness even when cornered, the sharpness of her tongue, the arrogance. She pushed him to the edge and then dared him to jump. And there was something about it, about the way it made him feel, that always made him want her to do it again.
And now he was about to drive her to his family and introduce her to them as his fake girlfriend.
What he was about to do tonight was a risky thing. He wasn’t the type to lie to his family in the first place, but this was different. This was tricky, sticky, and he had to be smart about it, even if it cost the truth.
A girlfriend was unexpected, but not unwelcome if handled properly. He was going to bring her in as an ordinary, unassuming woman. There was no way anyone there would recognize her as Cormac’s daughter. She was sheltered all of her life, and Fedya wondered just how many times she’d even been allowed to see the light of day. Besides, the only thing theyshared was the striking eye color. She looked nothing like him, and anyone could have green eyes, so it wasn’t an issue.
They’d be fine tonight as long as her screws didn’t go loose. As long as she behaved and stayed by his side, they could walk in and out of there without any complications.
But Fedya was seriously starting to doubt the success of tonight’s event, considering she was already ruining it by spending an ungodly amount of hours just to get ready.
