Page 58 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
“Divorce you?”
“If you want.”
I don’t know what to do with that.
Dmitri never once spoke of marriage like I might have options inside it. My father never spoke of anything like I had options at all.
Yaromir does, and somehow it feels more dangerous than force.
“Why one year?” I ask.
“Long enough to make the insult permanent.”
“To Dmitri.”
“To Dmitri. To my father. To anyone watching.” Yaromir moves back toward the fireplace, putting space between us again. “You have three days to decide.”
I look up. “Three days?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you are exhausted and angry. I want your answer when you can stand behind it.”
I laugh quietly. This man puts his hands on me until I can barely think, then talks about standing behind my answer.
“You’re very noble after the damage is done,” I say.
“No.” His eyes meet mine. “I am practical.”
I believe that.
I believe he’s cruel. I believe he’s dangerous. I believe there are parts of him I should never get close enough to understand. But I also believe he’s telling me the truth.
That’s what changes things.
Not the kiss. Not even the revenge.
The truth.
Yaromir doesn’t dress the cage with flowers. He doesn’t call it love. He doesn’t tell me to be grateful. He doesn’t pretend I’m lucky while stealing the ground under my feet.
I think of Dmitri in his wedding suit, kissing Katya less than an hour before he was supposed to marry me. I think of Katya’s mouth softening under his.
I think of Galina telling me men like Dmitri do not belong in cages.
I think of my father’s pale, terrified face in that hotel room.
I think of the man in the club hallway, blood spreading under him while I ran for my life.
Then I look at Yaromir. Early forties. Scarred. Silver at his temples. Built like something that doesn’t move unless it chooses to. A man people fear enough to lower their eyes.
A man Dmitri will hate seeing beside me.
My answer arrives before I can make it pretty.
“Yes.”
