My mother meets us at the door, standing sentry in a bejeweled gown and six-inch heels I’m convinced are surgically affixed to her feet. I never see her without them.


    Her smile is chilly, not quite hiding the curl of her upper lip. “You’re here.”


    The “finally” is a silent addition that only I hear.


    We kept her waiting. Strike one.


    I open my mouth to bite back and earn us a strike two, but Sutton steps forward. “That’s my fault. I was running a littlete.”


    “Then get dressed earlier.” It’s not a joke, but Oksana lets out a tinklingugh anyway.


    Sutton’s smile falters and I pull her into my side to keep myself from doing something stupid. “We’re the guests of honor, Maman. We’re supposed to make a grand entrance.”


    “Yes, but you can’t make a grand entrance once everyone has gone home,” she mutters through thin lips.


    She turns back to the ballroom, her face transforming into a mask of pure delight. The change is so jarring it’s almost demonic.


    Sutton squeezes my arm. “You didn’t introduce me.”


    “She already knows who you are, Sutton.”


    “But I don’t know her,” she whispers. “I’m here to get to know her.”


    Sweet, naive little thing.


    If only it were that simple.


    “You were scared of sharks in this ocean, but this is where they really live. You’re here to show them you know how to swim.”


    My mother raises a crystal flute, tapping it with a gold-ted knife. The room is turning to us and I’m going to have scars from how tightly Sutton is holding onto me.


    “But I don’t know how to swim, Oleg. I can’t do this. I don’t know how to?—”


    “The happy couple!” My mother turns to us as the room erupts in apuse.


    I pry Sutton’s fingers from my arm and ce a hand on her lower back, pushing her forward and hoping I’m not chumming the water.


    “Pretend.”<hr>


    Whether my mother likes it or not, Sutton is charming.


    Her self-deprecation puts the women at ease. Her warm smile and unbelievable body keep the men interested until I level them with a re fitting of my nickname.


    And my mother doesn’t like it.


    Not any of it.


    Not at all.


    It’s good for the family that Sutton can hold her own here, but the scowl my mother has worn most of the night lets me know she’d rather be right than pleasantly surprised.


    She’d rather watch Sutton stumble and fall.


    She’d rather I stand in the center of this party and publicly end my engagement than have to admit that I made the correct call with my selection.


    But watching Sutton breeze through the party, making friends and ying nice, I know I made the right call.


    I don’t need my mother’s approval.


    Sutton is standing at the bar, saying something that has Desiree Franco in a fit ofughter. The woman owns a chain of high-end lingerie boutiques across the country, and I make a mental note to order Sutton something from each of them.


    Starting now, any friend of my fiancée is a friend of mine.


    “She’s trying too hard.”


    My mother’s voice shatters the moment. I hide my sigh with a sip of my whiskey. “There’s no such thing.”


    “There certainly is.” She slides into my periphery, impossible to ignore. “She isn’t one of us, and she’s making that obvious. They should be trying to be friends with us. Not the other way around. She’s making us look desperate.”


    “‘Desperate’ was you telling me to pick a woman—any woman.”


    “I assumed you had more sense than this,” she spits. “I assumed you had standards.”


    I ce my empty ss on a passing waiter’s tray and turn to her. “I do, which is why I never would’ve married any of the women you chose for me.”


    Her cheeks flush with anger—the only sign that she has a heart at all. “Is this some kind of rebellion? Did you choose Sutton just to upset me?”


    “Believe it or not, Maman, I’m a grown man and my decisions have nothing to do with you. I need a wife and an heir to im what’s mine. I found one.”


    “You need my support to overthrow your uncle,” she hisses. “That was the deal. Or are you forgetting that you still need me?”


    Maybe at one point that was true. But watching Sutton not just survive but thrive… The two of us together might be stronger than I anticipated.


    “Uncle Boris isn’t even here tonight. Looks like I might be well on my way to taking his ce already.”


    She smiles as a woman dripping in diamonds and unbearable perfume squeezes her shoulder as she passes, then waits until the woman is gone before she leans in close. “He’s still the head of this Bratva. You can’t afford to alienate him this early.”


    “You underestimate me.”


    “Only because I know how impulsive and reckless you can be.” Each word is a precise strike between my ribs, finding old wounds easily, effortlessly.


    I deserve the pain.


    I deserve every reminder of the two lives that were lost because of me.


    Still, I square my shoulders. “I’m not eighteen anymore. I’ve learned to handle myself.”


    “I thought so, too.”


    The icy tone in her voice makes it clear enough what she thinks. But I don’t care.


    Gritting my teeth, I throw myself into the crowd. I move fast enough to discourage people from stopping me.


    I shouldn’t have let her get to me. Rookie mistake to even give her the window of opportunity. Oksana Pavlova never misses a chance to pour salt in an open wound.


    I blow past people, not slowing as they say my name or try to offer congrattions. I don’t stop until I finally see Sutton, cornered by…


    My ex-girlfriend.


    Fuck.


    Calling Andrea Montgomery my girlfriend is a stretch. We fucked for a month before I cut her loose and never spoke to her again.


    Until now, apparently.


    I approach from behind, so Andrea can’t see me as she practically hisses at my fiancée, “Working with children… Why on earth would you want to do that?” She throws her tinum blonde hair over her shoulder, spraying her sickly-sweet perfume like the skunk she is.


    For the first time all night, Sutton isn’t smiling. She’s staring Andrea down like she’s deciding where tond the first punch. “I happen to like children. And they like me, too.”


    “I guess that makes sense. Children are always getting into ces they don’t belong. You probably have a lot inmon with them.”


    The jabnds. Sutton flinches but doesn’t retreat.


    Fight back, I’m silently roaring at her. Don’t take this lying down.


    “Do you still work with children?”


    “Not currently.”


    “Ooooh.” Andrea draws out the syble, pumping it full of meaning. “Maybe you don’t love children as much as you say. You were just biding your time until you could catch a rich husband.”


    I’m about to step in and end this shit when Sutton’s bitterugh stops me cold. “You think I’m with Oleg for his money?” Her blue eyes simmer with ice. “Honey, I’m with him for the sex.”


    Andrea’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.


    Silence has never been so fucking beautiful.


    I choose this moment to make my entrance. “Good evening,dies.”


    “Oleg.” Sutton’s voice is a caress. She says my name like I’m already inside of her, and fuck, now I wish I was.


    She drapes her body against mine, wrapping her hands around my neck.


    Then, in front of Andrea and all of our guests, she kisses me.


    My amusement gives way to raw desire as her tongue curls into my mouth. I fist the delicate material at her hip, hauling her closer to me, grinding my aching erection against her warmth.


    My amusement burns away in the face of raw need. I fist the delicate material at her hip, grinding my aching cock against her heat. She moans into my mouth and I’m seconds away from taking her right here.


    On the floor.


    Against the wall.


    I’ll fill her with my baby in front of these fucking vultures. Let them try to deny the validity of my heir after that.


    But then Sutton presses a hand to my chest and eases back.


    Her lipstick is smeared, her face flushed. She’s beautifully disheveled as she turns to look for Andrea. But the witch has disappeared.


    “Bitch,” Sutton whispers.


    I adjust myself, trying to getfortable when all I want is to be buried inside of her. “I think I might feel used.”


    “Sorry, but— Ugh. She thinks she’s so much better than me. She judged me for working and then judged me for not. I should’ve told her that keeping every stic surgeon in Palm Beach employed isn’t a career.”


    I’ve never seen her this worked up. Or so feisty. I’d love nothing more than to channel this heat into something more mutually beneficial for the both of us.


    But Sutton whips back to me. “Did you date her?”


    I grimace. “Briefly.”


    She huffs out a breath and crosses her arms.


    “Jealous?”


    “Jealous? No. I just didn’t know you were interested in hoity-toity bitches with stic noses and crooked boob jobs.”


    My little kitten has ws. Usually, this kind of territorial disy would be my cue to exit stage left. But right now? I’m fucking grinning.


    “The boob job came after we broke up.”


    “You have them memorized?” she spits. “Were you looking at her chest?”


    I reach out and push her hair behind her ear. “You’re cute when you’re territorial.”


    “I’m not territorial! I just— That was— I kissed you just to shut her up.”


    “Fine by me. Feel free to use me anytime you want.”


    A shy grin lifts the corners of her mouth. “Can we leave now?”


    My cock twitches. “Fuck yes. Let’s go.”


    I take her hand and pull her toward the double doors. I’ll deal with my mother’s wrathter.


    Right now, I want Sutton in the back of my limo, screaming my name.


    But we’re halfway to freedom when we round a marble column and there she is.


    The dragondy herself.


    “Leaving already?” asks Oksana.


    I tuck Sutton partially behind me, even though she’s proven she can handle herself in this snake pit. “I was looking for you.”


    The arch of her thin brow tells me she knows better. “Last to arrive, first to leave. It’s disrespectful to your guests.”


    “You threw such a great party that our guests are drunk enough not to mind anymore,” I bite back.


    Suddenly, Sutton slips next to me, her hand stroking slowly up my spine. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Pavlov. You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble just for?—”


    “Actually, all this trouble is very necessary.” My mother looks around pointedly before she steps closer, voice dangerously low. “You’re engaged to the heir of the Pavlov Bratva. If you’re going to be his wife and raise his children, you need to understand your expectations.”


    The threat hangs in the air like poison gas. Then my mother does something worse than murder—she reaches for Sutton.


    My fiancée jerks against me like she’s about to be gutted, but then realizes it’s just a hug. The most passive-aggressive hug in the history of forced physical contact, but a hug nheless.


    “Wee to the family, Sutton,” my mother says loudly enough for eavesdroppers to hear.


    Then she releases Sutton and turns back for the ballroom.


    The hug seems to have broken Sutton’s brain more effectively than any threat could have. I have to drag her down the steps to the waiting limo.


    It isn’t until we’re safely locked in the back seat that she exhales.


    “What the actual fuck was that?”


    “A performance. You’ll get used to it.”


    “No, I won’t.” She looks dazed, staring at her hands like they belong to someone else. Then her head snaps up. “And what was she talking about? She said you were the heir of some… bratwurst? Brat van? What’s that?”


    I probably should’ve told her, but I didn’t think it changed anything. It doesn’t change anything.


    Her smile wavers. “Oleg?”


    “It’s nothing. Just the family business.”


    “I thought Pavlov Industries was the family business?”


    “It is. One of them.” She’s still staring at me expectantly, so I shrug. “It’s Russian.”


    Her brows crease together. “There’s something wrong with it… isn’t there?”


    I only shake my head. “This changes nothing, Sutton. I am going to take care of you. I’ll keep you safe. The contract we signed still stands.”


    She blinks up at me, hurt shing across her face before she turns to the window. “Right. The contract.”


    I take her hand and she shifts her eyes to mine reluctantly. I can’t give her the assurances she wants.


    I can’t promise to be a good husband.


    I can’t promise to love her unconditionally.


    I can’t promise to give her the fairy tale ending that she so clearly wants.


    But I can give her this.


    “I’ll protect you,” I promise. “You and our child.”


    Her blue eyes are soft and for a moment, in the shadowy light, I think I see tears. Then she blinks and her eyes are clear once more. “Your life must be dangerous. If you need to protect me, then it means there are things and people to protect me from.”


    “Technically, yes. But you don’t need to worry about that right now. I have things under control.”


    Before I can even get the words out, the limo screeches to a half. Uri curses in the front seat and I throw an arm out to keep Sutton from falling forward.


    “What was that?” she shrieks.


    I catch Uri’s panicked eyes in the rearview mirror just before an engine revs.


    I turn to the window to see a dozen motorcycles surrounding our car. The riders are dressed in ck, faces hidden behind masks.


    I just told her I had things under control.


    Looks like I spoke too soon.