Forced Marriage Vows

10. Mikhail

CHAPTER 10

Mikhail

I made a decision last night after my conversation with Anastasia.

While she’s made it quite clear she’s completely opposed to this marriage, I’m going to have to put in the work to ensure that a week from now, when she’s walking down that aisle, she’s not doing so with the drive to put a knife through my skull. I don’t need her to be willing and interested. I just want to make her like me enough that she doesn’t hate the idea of marrying me so much.

She’s already awake when I step outside of my room, ready to hit the gym. She’s in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand while she stares at the cake we baked last night. A smile rises on my lips as I move over to meet her.

“Do you sleep at all, solnyshko ?”

She looks up in surprise at the sound of my voice. Then she relaxes when she notices it’s me, returning her attention to her coffee.

“I could ask you the same question,” she returns lightly, her eyes moving over my outfit, which consists of a white tank top and gray sweatpants. “Where are you off to?”

“The gym. Would you like to join me?”

“I’m not a fan of exercise,” she says, wrinkling her nose. It’s adorable.

“Why not? It can be fun.”

“I’m also pretty sure I don’t want to be taking advice about what is and what isn’t fun from you.”

“Come on, sweetheart. You owe me from helping you out with that cake.”

She frowns. “I’m pretty sure I already got you back for that. I provided you first aid.”

“And I’m forever in your debt for that one selfless act,” I say sarcastically, to which she rolls her eyes. “If you come with me, you’ll get a reward.”

She wrinkles her nose again. “You do realize I’m not a dog, right? I’m not going to roll over just because you asked. You can’t teach me tricks.”

My eyes are intense as they settle on her. “Not even a few?”

“Go away, Morozova.”

“I will if you come to the gym with me,” I return. “Just agree now and save us both the energy, sweetheart. I never back down until I get what I want.”

“Fine,” she says on a sigh. “I might as well, seeing as you’ve left me nothing to do in this godforsaken house.”

“I’ll get you your laptop and cameras today,” I assure her.

She leaves the kitchen to get ready. When she returns, something inside of me tightens. My gaze simmers with heat as I take in her short black biker shorts that rest over her ass and a cream sports bra. It wouldn’t be problematic if her breasts didn’t look like they were about to spill out of the material. My dick twitches in my pants.

I clench my jaw as I walk over to her. “Go change, solnyshko ,” I order.

When she smiles, I know she wore the outfit entirely on purpose.

“No, you said we were going to the gym. This is gym attire,” she argues. “I even wore the sneakers you got me.”

I look down at her feet, and true enough, she’s wearing the white sneakers. But I have other pressing matters at hand. I grit my teeth as I force myself to look back into her eyes.

“I’m not letting you go down there like this. People will see you,” I grit out.

What I mean is that other men will look at her and I’d really like to not have to stab their eyes out.

“I should hope so,” she murmurs, trying out a few stretches. She still has on that small smile on her face, making it clear she knows what she’s doing.

I let out a soft grunt before grabbing my phone and sending a quick text to the manager of the building.

Me: Get everyone out of the gym. Make sure there’s not a soul there by the time I arrive downstairs in five minutes.

He replies in the affirmative a second later and I’m satisfied enough to put away my phone. Anastasia had been watching me and her gaze is wary when our eyes connect.

“I’m not sure I like that look on your face,” she murmurs. “What did you do?”

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” I say in lieu of answering.

She frowns. “What about Anthony?”

“When have you ever known your brother to rise before noon?” I question, leading her toward the door.

We make our way out of the apartment, riding down to the sixth floor of the building where the gym is located. It has all the state-of-the-art equipment that anyone could ever require. I’m glad when I confirm there’s not a soul present. Anastasia seems to notice and shoots me an accusing look.

“You might be forcing me to marry you, Mr. Morozova. But I’m not your property and you can’t control what I can or can’t wear,” she says in a low tone.

“Of course not,” I reply. “But I can very well control who gets to see you when you wear outfits like that. Come on, let’s warm up.”

She doesn’t say anything further as she begins small squats to get ready. I try not to stare but it’s hard not to appreciate every curve and dip of her body. The woman has the face of an angel and the body of a vixen. And I’m not sure she even knows that.

It’s what makes her so sexy. That quiet, unassuming grace. After the warmups, we start to work out. Anastasia and I seem to share an understanding that during as we do, speaking isn’t a necessity. She seems to like the quiet as much as I do.

I only speak to offer her some pointers and some exercise suggestions. She looks ready to kill me by the time she’s done with some hip thrusts while holding a bar of fifty-pound weights.

“If you make me do any more, I’m going to throw up,” she promises, collapsing on to the floor after her last thrust.

I chuckle as I lift the weights, staring down at her sprawled body.

“You did good, sweetheart,” I praise. “Just let me get in one last set and then we’re good to go.”

She doesn’t say anything as I fit the two hundred-pound weights I intend to carry on the bar. Gripping it tightly, I settle into position and begin my reps. The sound of my soft grunts fill the room as I move through the first ten. I get through another few before my head turns sideways toward Anastasia.

Her eyes are fixed on me and there’s enough heat in them that I nearly falter while lifting the weights. I clench my jaw before abruptly putting the weights back in place and standing up.

“Are you done?” she questions in surprise.

“We’re leaving,” I answer, running a hand through my hair. She arches an eyebrow in question. “I can’t focus when you look at me like that, Anastasia.”

Her expression turns chastened and she wrenches her gaze away from me. Ironic that I wanted her to look at me before and now that she is, I’m asking her not to. I wanted her eyes on me—I didn’t want her staring at me like she wanted me to rip her clothes off.

Because I’m not that much of a gentleman and I wouldn’t hesitate to do so. But I need to respect her and her wishes and I can’t be going around acting like a caveman.

“Let’s go,” I say again.

She gets to her feet, her gaze clearer and devoid of any desire I spotted earlier. “Thanks to you, my arms are on fire and I can barely feel my legs,” she complains as we walk out of the gym.

“You get used to the burn and learn to crave it eventually,” I tell her. “If you work out often enough, it’ll stop hurting as much.”

“Often?” she grits out. “I’m not doing this again.”

I only smile and shake my head.

The both of us have only just stepped outside when I notice a man walking toward us. I frown, surreptitiously moving to stand in front of Anastasia.

I feel a light punch on my back when she realizes what I’m doing.

“You’re an asshole,” she whispers.

“No,” I say when the man is gone, turning around to look at her, “I just don’t like people looking at what’s mine.”

Her eyes narrow. “I’m not yours.”

“Not yet.”

We return to my house to find Anthony awake and in a similar position to the one Anastasia was in earlier—with a coffee mug standing beside the coffee maker in the kitchen. They both consume far too much caffeine. But I’ve had the argument with Anthony far too many times to know he’s not going to listen to me on that.

He looks better this morning. While his dark brown hair is sticking up at the sides and he still has sleep lines on his face, his eyes are certainly clearer. He was a mess last night. Now he looks like the goofball I’m used to.

His eyebrows go up when we walk into the room. “Where were you two?”

“The gym,” his sister replies.

His brows nearly reach his hairline as he notices her outfit. “You went to the gym with him? In that?” he says, gesturing at her.

Anastasia groans softly, “The both of you are insufferable and I’m going to my room,” she announces.

“I’ll prepare breakfast,” I say, watching her as she leaves.

When I turn to Anthony, he’s already looking at me with a frown on his face.

“You like my sister,” he says accusingly.

I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Cut the shit. I saw the way you were looking at her just now. You. Like. Her.”

My feelings toward his sister are complicated, and he would definitely punch me in the face if I tried to explain it to him. So I simply shrug without saying a word.

“Holy shit,” Anthony says, taking my silence as an admission. “So that’s why you’re doing all this?”

“I’m doing all this because I want to become Pakhan,” I state.

He frowns, eyeing me over his coffee cup. “Why the hell do you even want the job?”

“Because someone has to have it,” I answer simply.

His eyes narrow. “So what are you saying? You’re doing this because I wouldn’t take over from my father? Because somebody has to become the next Pakhan so it might as well be you.”

“No. I’m doing this because while you’ve never had an interest, I always had. And you know this. You knew I was always going to return here. The Bratva lives in me, Anthony. It’s who I am.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he mutters bitterly.

“Nobody’s blaming you,” I tell him, trying to ease the dejected look in his eyes. “None of this is your fault.”

“My best friend is forcing my sister to marry him. Trust me, it’s my fault. I screwed up and led all of us into this situation.”

“That’s…. ridiculous.”

He won’t listen, though, so I decide to appeal to something else.

“I’ll take care of her,” I start. “Anastasia will never have to worry about anything so long as she’s with me. I’ll keep her protected and safe. You know me, you know the lengths I would go to protect the people I care about.”

“And you care about her?” he asks stiffly.

“Yeah, I do,” I reply, the words leaving my lips easily.

I’ve known Anastasia for more than a decade. I would have done anything to protect her when she was nothing more than my best friend’s little sister. And now she’s going to my wife so there is even more reason to protect her.

“I’m still not okay with this,” Anthony states. “But I won’t be going around punching you anymore.”

I smirk. “Good because that was a really weak punch. And where the hell did the gun come from, man?”

He grins and suddenly it feels like a weight has been let off my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how much I needed us to be okay until this moment.

“I got lessons. I might be a mafia prince in exile but I figured I didn’t have to be a defenseless one,” he informs me. “My trainer told me I was a natural. The best marksman he’s seen in a while. So if I change my mind and decide to kill you, I should be able to take you out quickly.”

“I’m sure he was just furthering your already huge ego,” I say dryly.

Anthony rolls his eyes at that.

I pause for a second knowing he may have meant that bit about killing me but there’s not turning back now so if he really doesn’t want this union to happen, he may have to.

I start to prepare breakfast and while it takes some wrangling, I get him to help me out with it as well.

“What are we going to do about Igor?” Anthony asks when we’re almost done with the meal.

“Nothing unless I can find him. Do you perhaps have the location to his safe house?”

He snorts. “You think he would trust me with that information? I’d give him up in a heartbeat. I would never protect him, Mikhail.”

“I know. But we need to find him as soon as possible. There’s a lot riding on this.”

My deal with the Italians, for one. Igor really fucked up by pissing off Adrian Rossi. They want his blood and I’m going to have to make sure I deliver it to them. Anthony has no idea about that, though.

I wonder how he would feel if something really did happen to Igor. Would he grieve the death of a father he supposedly hates?

When I look up, Anastasia’s standing at the doorway into the kitchen. The expression on her face makes it clear she heard our conversation. Anthony’s oblivious to her presence until she steps inside. When she does, she plasters on a fake smile and starts talking to her brother.

We sit down to eat breakfast and it’s almost cordial enough to make me forget everything that’s gone on in the past couple of days. Anthony gets up to leave when he’s done eating. I’m about to stand as well when Anastasia places a hand on my arm, stopping me.

Her touch sears my skin.

“Promise me you won’t kill my father,” she says, a twinge of desperation in her voice.

“You don’t have to worry, solnyshko . There’s a long list of people who want to kill your father, but I’m not on that list,” I tell her.

She looks confused by the statement but I don’t explain. The doorbell rings, and I throw her a smile over my shoulder.

“Your reward is here,” I inform her, gesturing toward the door.

She rises to her feet and opens it, immediately letting out a short squeal of excitement.

“Leah,” she says, hugging her best friend.

I walk away, leaving the two women to it.

One day, Anastasia will finally come to realize who her father really is. And the knowledge will break her heart. But that day isn’t today.