24

Tiana

Armani puts on the TV to try and distract me, but it doesn’t work. It’s impossible to focus on anything but the sword hanging over my head.

Please, God. Please, please, please, let me marry Armani and not Karlin.

“Let’s get some rest,” Armani murmurs as he switches off the TV.

“I’ll take the couch,” I try again, not wanting him to struggle with the small space.

He shakes his head and nods toward the bedroom. I follow him, and he points to the bed. “Get in. I’m just going to shower, then I’ll be out of your way.”

“Take your time. I’m invading your space,” I say as I inch closer to the bed. On the spur of the moment, I add, “The bed is big enough for both of us.”

Armani comes out of the walk-in closet with a pair of sweatpants in his hand. He stares at me for an intense second, then says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ve had one hell of a day, Tiana. Get some sleep.”

Nodding, I pull the covers back and climb into bed. Armani walks into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I lie down and stare up at the ceiling while I listen to the shower running.

Why did the thing with Karlin have to happen? Sometimes I don’t understand why life has to be so hard.

Even though there were times tonight when Armani downright terrified me, I’ll pick him a thousand times over Karlin.

Where Karlin spoke to me as if I was shit under his shoe, Armani has only treated me with respect and kindness.

Please, God, I’ll never ask for anything ever again. Let me marry Armani.

When the bathroom door opens, my eyes dart to Armani. He’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants, making my eyebrows fly into my hairline. His chest, abs, and a V curving into the waistband is the most attractive thing I’ve ever seen.

Sweet mother of God.

I blink a couple of times as I stare at his chest. His muscles aren’t overly defined and bulky. No hard ridges of abs. Instead, golden skin runs smoothly over what I’d call pure perfection.

He walks closer to the bed, and staring down at me, the corner of his mouth lifts. “Try to get some sleep, bella. If you need anything, just wake me.”

I nod, and when he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, my heart flutters in my chest.

He smells heavenly, like wild spices and calm waters. I don’t know how else to describe the scent, but I think it fits him perfectly.

“Good night, Armani,” I murmur before watching him leave the room.

Then my eyes get stuck on his shoulders and back.

Dear, God.

His back is a work of perfection. Strength ripples beneath his skin, and his shoulders are broad, giving me the impression he can carry the weight of the world on them.

The mafia-related tattoos on the back of his hands only add to how hot he looks.

Armani switches the lights off, and I turn onto my side, snuggling into the pillow where I can smell his lingering scent.

Surely Armani can have any woman he wants. Why did he agree to an arranged marriage with me?

I can hear him moving in the living room, so I climb out of bed and walk to the doorway. He’s standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring into the dark night.

“Armani?”

He turns his head. “Yeah?”

“Why did you agree to marry me?” I ask the very important question.

I hear him inhale deeply before exhaling, then he walks toward me. He stops close to me, enough that I can smell his body wash and cologne.

Don’t stare at his chest. Eyes on his face.

It’s not easy meeting his intense gaze as he finally answers, “There was a moment we were in shit, and Misha asked me to take care of you should anything happen to him.”

So it was a heat-of-the-moment kind of promise?

“Did you know anything about me?”

He shakes his head. “Not much. After I made the promise, Misha told me about your time in the orphanage.”

He only knows the worst part of my past. That sucks.

“Isn’t there another woman you’d rather marry?” My teeth worry my bottom lip, then I add, “Someone you love?”

Again he shakes his head. “I’m a man of my word, Tiana. I never break a promise.”

I let out a sigh. “You might not have a choice. If Mr. Vetrov gives me to Karlin, you’ll be free from your promise.”

Instead of commenting on my statement, he whispers, “Get some sleep,

bella.”

Armani’s phone starts to ring, and it tears his attention away from me. He walks to where the device is lying on the coffee table and says, “It’s Misha!”

I rush closer while Armani answers, “Fucking finally, brother.” There’s a moment’s silence, then he says, “Yeah, she’s here. I’m putting you on speaker.”

A second later, I hear Misha’s voice. “Tiana?”

Tears jump to my eyes as intense relief fills me. “I’m here.” “How are you holding up?” he asks.

“Honestly?” Armani gives me a compassionate look, and I can’t keep the tears from falling. “I’m scared, Misha. I hate asking this of you, but please come to St. Monarch’s.” A sob fills my throat, and my words are strained as I whimper, “I don’t know what to do.”

Armani wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me against his bare chest.

“We’re at the airport. The flight leaves in an hour, but it’s a thirty-hour trip,” Misha informs us. “Just stay with Armani.”

I nod even though Misha can’t see me.

“Brother,” Misha says to address Armani, “Don’t leave her alone. Don’t allow Makarova close to my sister.”

“Don’t worry,” Armani answers, “They’ll have to pry her from my dead arms.”

Jesus.

I tilt my head back to look up at Armani’s face, and seeing the dark expression, filled with rage and violence, I’m not afraid, unlike the times before.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Misha mutters, sounding tired and upset. “Did Luca say what time the meeting is?”

“No. Once they get here, I’ll tell them you’re on your way. I’m sure they’ll wait.”

“I’m going to call Viktor quickly. If I can get ahead of this shitstorm, we might not need to have the fucking meeting.”

“That’s a good idea.” Armani gently rubs his hand up and down my back, avoiding the lower part where I’m hurt. “Let me know how the conversation goes.”

“Will do.”

“Tiana,” Misha says, concern making his voice rough, “There’s no way you’re marrying that fucker. Don’t worry about a thing.”

“Thank you, Misha,” I mumble from where I’m still pressed to Armani’s chest. “I’m sorry I ruined your honeymoon.”

“Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.”

The call ends, but Armani doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he drops the phone on the couch and wraps me up in a tight hug.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispers.

I nod, my cheek rubbing against his warm skin.

God, it feels incredible to have his arms around me.

We stand still for a minute or so before he pushes me back. “Go to bed.

You need your rest for what’s to come.”