“I’m going to find the director,” she says.
I smile. “That’s my girl. I’ll be by the doors.”
She finds me twenty minutes later, her eyes ablaze with glory. “I did it.” She beams. “I used the donation check to get his attention, and then I told him I’m an actor who just moved here from Moscow. He invited me to his partner’s acting class. It’s on Tuesdays. And guess what?”
“What?”
“You’re never going to believe this.” She grabs my wrist and squeezes it, bouncing a little in her heels. “They’re doing Anna Karenina next year, and he said he would love to have me audition for a part!”
I grin, trying to catch up. “They want a Russian in the part.”
“Well, I don’t know,” she says quickly. “But at least my accent won’t hurt me.” She waves a business card in my face. “And I have a connection now.”
I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against my body. “You did it. See? There’s nothing you can’t do.”
She kisses me in a flurry of happy pecks. “Gospodi, I love you!”
I swallow when the full brunt of those words hits me square in the chest.
She jerks back with a startled expression like she just did something wrong.
“I’m pretty nuts about you, too,” I tell her before she can take it back.
Vulnerability bleeds into her expression, but she hides it. “Yeah?” She slides her hands up and down my chest. “I thought you married me for the money.”
I go still. Is that what she thinks? “No. Your inheritance is a pain in my ass. The perk of this marriage isn’t the money, sugar. It’s you.”
She steps in closer, tugging on my tie, insinuating her curves against my body. “You mean the sex.”
I narrow my eyes, suddenly wary. I feel like Sasha’s playing some role right now. The one her mother taught her about how to keep a powerful man. She’s not being real with me. And feeling like I’m being played is a goddamn trigger for me, especially with her.
“I said you,” I insist.
She catches the offense in my tone and pulls back slightly.
No, I misread her. I’m being a dick. She’s fishing for confirmation that I feel the same. I capture her nape and tug her lips up to mine.
“Even the crazy parts. I love you, too, Sasha.” It’s awkward to say, but once the words come out, I’m not sorry. I’m as vulnerable as my bride. And that’s what love is. Revealing your weakness. Trusting the other person with it.
She’s given me that.
It’s time for me to do the same.
“I love you,” I repeat the words, staring straight into her blue eyes.
A shiver runs through her. “I used to fantasize about this moment,” she whispers.
My lips kick up into a grin. “I annexed you out of all fantasies for fear of my life. But let me tell you, sugar—I’m making up for it now. I have about a hundred that involve you bent over that new car of yours.”
“Oh yeah?”
I reach in my pocket for the valet ticket. “Want to go for a drive?”
Her smile is as wicked as my heart. She snatches the valet ticket from my fingers. “Always, big man.”
Sasha
Maxim directs me to one of those high rise parking garages that goes up and up and up. We take it all the way to the rooftop and park. There aren’t any other cars up here. We get out, and I walk to the wall to look over the edge at the city. “I love this,” I exclaim.
It feels like the night belongs to us. It’s all ours.
Maxim loves me. I can’t—won’t—stop that thought from swishing around me like a warm, bubblegum pink dream.
It feels too good to be true.
Like any minute, the relationship police are going to show up and arrest me for impersonating a real wife.
I mean, he had to marry me. He didn’t even want me. How did I trick him into love?
How did he trick me?
Who is tricking whom?
Or is this actually real? It feels real, but I’m so afraid to trust in it. Everything seems too easy. Too perfect. Things looking up for my acting career. Living in the U.S. again, a short flight away from my friends. Making new friends in Maxim’s roommates.
Feeling wild and celebratory and maybe with my exhibitionism coming out to play, I open the zipper on my dress and pull it over my head.
Rather than reaching for me, Maxim steps back and shoves his hands in his pockets, his gaze sweeping up and down.
“How was it you liked to punish me?” I purr, unfastening my bra. “Just in my heels?”
He pretends to be casual, but I see his erection tenting his pants. “Aw, fuck, sugar.” He walks slowly toward me. “That teasing’s going to get you spanked.”
“Mm. I’m counting on it.” I back up toward the Lambo, cracking the door to toss my dress and bra inside. He follows, keeping his distance and his relaxed posture.