Forced Marriage Vows

2. Mikhail

CHAPTER 2

Mikhail

O ne of my favorite things to do is have a staring contest with Anastasia Vasiliev. They’re never planned or intentional. But somehow, her eyes always find their way to mine. And then it’s a game to see who looks away first. Unfortunately, she loses every time. One of these days I’ll get her to look me straight in the eye and not back down. I know she has that fire in her, I just have to pull it out.

When Anastasia looks away, I abruptly stop kissing the woman in front of me. I don’t know her name, or what she’s doing in here. She just walked up to me and asked if I was interested in a good time.

“Do you want to find a room?” she asks in a low, seductive voice, fluttering her eyelashes.

Under normal circumstances, I would have gone with her. Long, straight blonde hair, big blue eyes. She’s a beautiful woman, confident too. But I’m distracted. Anthony’s little sister is distracting me. Which is odd, because I don’t really know her. I’ve never felt the need to know her.

My interest in her is a recent development. It started about a year ago. Everything changed a year ago.

My eyes follow Anastasia as she gets to her feet, narrowing when I notice that she’s walking with a slight limp. I watch as she pulls her brother to the side and whispers something in his ear.

“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 taught me 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.

She pulls out the pair of white sneakers with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You heard me. Put on the shoes and hand me the heels. Or should I do it for you?” I question, my gaze moving down to her feet.

She continues to look at me in shock for a couple more seconds before huffing out a breath and doing as I asked. Once she’s done slipping into the sneakers, she rises and I grab the bag from her hand.

“I’ll get rid of them.”

“What? No,” she protests, taking the bag back. “They’re Leah’s. There’s no need to get rid of them.”

I shrug, and she observes me for a couple of seconds. Now that she’s no longer wearing the heels, she has to lean her head back further to look me in the eye, despite her already impressive height.

“They fit perfectly. How did you know what size I wear?” she asks.

“Does that matter?”

“I guess it doesn’t. But this is so weird.”

“Is it?” I question, glancing down at my watch. It’s getting pretty late.

“Are you going to keep answering a question with a question? Or are you going to actually reply?” she returns.

“You didn’t ask a question that last time.”

She makes a small frustrated noise. “You’re impossible to talk to.”

The ringing of my phone cuts through the quiet. I pull it out of my pocket to check the caller ID. It’s not a call I can ignore.

“Get back inside, Anastasia,” I tell her before turning around. “Mr.Malone,” I greet, my voice crisp. “I wasn’t expecting your call.”

“Thank you for the shoes,” Anastasia calls out from behind me as I walk away.

Instead of heading back into the club, I go to my car instead. Jerome opens the door, allowing me to climb into the back. I keep my eyes on the club entrance while listening to Malone. He’s a fellow businessman I’ve had dealings with in the past. He needs my help, something I expected as soon as I heard news of his failing business. But unfortunately for him, he won’t be getting any help from me.

Not because I can’t, but because I have no interest in helping him.

Anastasia looks around for a second before making her way into the club. Once she’s safely inside, I finally pay attention to what the other man is saying on the phone.

“You have to help me, Morozova,” he says pleadingly.

Pathetic, really.

“I don’t have to do anything,” I correct.

“The Iowa deal was something both our companies collaborated on. We’ve both cut corners in this business—you more than others.”

“And yet, I wasn’t the one who was exposed for tax evasion,” I drawl, already bored.

“You’re the only person with the connections to get me out of this. You think I don’t know your family’s in the goddamn Russian mafia? How do you think that’ll look to the board members of your company? What if I exposed that little secret?”

“Do whatever you’d like at your own peril,” I reply, unfazed.

He falls silent. I’m about to hang up when he speaks again.

“You’d really leave me out to dry like this?” he questions meekly. “This company’s all I’ve got.”

“You should have thought about that before you tried to blackmail me. Thanks to that, any shred of hope you ever had, I’ll personally make sure is destroyed. It’s over, Malone. Pack it up, find a fishing boat somewhere so you can put some food on the table for your family. Never call me again.”

I hang up before he can say anything more. Once my phone is put away, I look at Jerome, who is seated in front of me. He’s drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, patiently waiting for me to give him orders.

Jerome’s not the type of man I would typically have working under me. He has shaggy blond hair, scrawny arms, and wears blue-rimmed glasses. He’s the complete opposite of a fighter. But when I’m in L.A., I don’t need to fight. This city’s my escape.

One I hate to admit is starting to run its course. I can’t stay away forever. A part of me will always crave more. Being CEO of a multi-million dollar tech company isn’t the height of my potential.

But it’ll have to do for now.

“Send in some men to get Anthony out of there in an hour. His little sister as well,” I inform him.

“You won’t be going back in, sir?” he questions.

The entire night has been hell. I only suffered through it for Anthony’s sake.

“Take me home,” I say in reply.

He offers me a nod through the rear view mirror and starts the car immediately. As we drive away, my thoughts once again drift to the blonde woman who I really have no business thinking about.

I don’t speak again until we’re parked in front of my penthouse apartment. I own a similar one in Chicago. “Jerome, find out why Anastasia went to New York yesterday and who she met up with.”

He seems a little surprised. “Anastasia Vasiliev, sir?” he asks.

“Yes. Get me the information by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

I step out of my car, wondering what she thought about our interaction earlier. At least now I can be sure I’m on her mind. The same way she’s on mine.