Page 57 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
Yaromir’s gaze narrows slightly. “Katya?”
I go still. He doesn’t know.
For one second, I consider not telling him. Then I think of her mouth on Dmitri’s, her hand on his chest, her voice asking what would change after the wedding.
“My bridesmaid,” I say. “That’s who he was with.”
Yaromir says nothing. The silence is worse than anger. I watch his hand curl once at his side, then relax.
“Did you see them?” he asks.
I swallow. “Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
His jaw tightens.
I don’t understand why that makes me feel safer.
“Then yes,” he says quietly. “She will know too.”
The promise in his voice is not dramatic. That’s what makes it believable.
I turn away again, because if I keep looking at him, I will remember his mouth on mine, and I can’t afford that. Not now.
“My father,” I say. “If I say yes, his debt is gone?”
“Yes.”
“No tricks?”
“No.”
“No men coming back in six months to collect interest?”
“No.”
“No one touches him?”
His eyes harden at that word. “No one touches anyone under my protection.”
Yaromir studies me for a long moment, then reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a card and places it on the desk. “There is a suite upstairs. You will sleep there tonight. Eat. Bathe. Rest. Tomorrow, you speak to a lawyer who will explain the marriage contract in language no one can twist.”
“A contract?”
“A real one. With terms for you.”
I stare at him. That’s not what I expected.
“What terms?”
“Money in your name. Property in your name. Freedom to leave the marriage after one year if you choose.”
My pulse jumps. “Leave?”
“Yes.”
