Page 23 of His Ruthless Vow

“I’m terrified,” I admit, and Alana’s eyes widen because she wasn’t expecting honesty. “I’m scared that I’m going to get us both killed. But I’m not scared of wanting you, Alana. I’ve made peace with that.”

Alana stares at me for a moment, and I think she’s going to crack, but she scowls and heaves out a sigh. “We can’t,” she says, turning away.

“We already did,” I remind her. “And you loved every second of it.”

She walks off, but the sting hits her and I watch her stand a bit straighter, her conscience seared by my words. Watching her squirm was beautiful, though I do feel a pang of guilt. Maybe I shouldn't be so cruel to her, but maybe, just maybe, my pushing will be just what she needs to let that guard down and admit I might be right.

She might want me.

And it might get us both killed.

16

ALANA

When Dimitri asked me to meet him at this small restaurant, I thought about telling him I was busy. There's so much going on this time of year, I'm exhausted from being paraded around in front of my father's business associates like some prized hog at market, and with the tension between us lately after what happened in that cabin, I'm not sure we should be meeting in private.

But the churning in my heart, the incessant need to stop this wedding and protect my sister from falling to the same fate that I succumbed to, is so pervasive, I can't draw back.

On my own, I can't do anything. I can scream at the top of my lungs that Ivan raped me and Mikhail covered it up, but all that would do is shine a giant spotlight on my father. He's the one who pulled the trigger. If he hadn't killed Ivan that night, I would've had a fair trial and the sick bastard would be rotting in prison somewhere. His family would’ve felt that shame, and maybe it would've changed the way they do things.

But Batya killed the man.

Now if I scream that without proper proof that Ivan's own father covered it up too, I'm risking my own family. It's not fair or right that I would have to suffer that horrible trauma and then have my father taken from me too.

So I slink through the doors of this fancy restaurant feeling guarded and scan the faces in the crowd.

"Miss," a host says, smiling at me. "Do you have a reservation?" His eyebrows are high, cheekbones pronounced.

"I'm meeting someone, thank you."

"Ah, yes, Mr. Sokolov," he says, nodding. "Right this way."

My throat constricts the moment I see Dimitri across the room. The dark leather is gone, replaced with a warm brown sweater. I can't believe he's not wearing a suit, and it makes me wonder if he's got a gun strapped to his hip like normal. Nothing about this feels normal, though.

"Sir, your date." I cringe when the host says that, smiling painfully as I sink into the booth and watch him walk away.

Dimitri settles before filling my glass with some wine and sitting back. He smiles warmly, saying, "You look nice tonight."

I glance around, swearing he must be talking to someone else. This doesn’t feel like a clandestine meeting to conspire against our families. This feels like a date, and I believe I made it very clear to him that this sort of thing could not happen.

"What's going on?" I ask, picking up the glass. The only thing that will settle these nerves is alcohol, though the last time I drank around him, I wound up regretting it. It was amazing, but it should never have happened.

"What do you mean? We're talking. We're going to eat dinner."

I scowl, frustrated and sighing. After watching that sleazy woman paw at him during the holiday party last week, I am so confused and frustrated. The last thing I need is to get beguiled into some fanciful date with romance and alcohol. I'm confused, torn between siding with my family and yielding to these insane emotions I'm feeling. He's the enemy. I don't want to want him, but God help me, I do.

And there's such an ease between us, so comfortable, I could forget who he is and what his family did. When I look him in the eye, I see a softhearted man who's trying to do the right thing, but honestly, it's gutting. How can I fall for this? How can I be so stupid? Does he not remember what his family did?"

"So, do you have an update? Is that what this is?" I sip the wine again, glancing down at the table for a menu. He said we'd eat dinner, but where is the menu, then?

"Well, not exactly." Dimitry rests his hand on the stemware, spinning it slowly. The condensation has left a ring on the tablecloth and he doesn't seem to care.

"Well, what, then?" I ask, starting to feel bamboozled. He dragged me here under the pretense of having more to talk about regarding the plan to stop my sister from marrying his brother and has no update?

"Look, Alana, relax." Scowling at him, I open my mouth to respond, but he continues before I can spout something off. "If we're working together, we need to be comfortable around and trust each other. Okay? So just have dinner and talk with me."

The protest is on the tip of my tongue, but the waiter arrives with a tray balanced between his shoulder and the palm of his hand. He smiles brightly and says, "The veal?" His eyebrows lift, and I don't have the heart to tell him I am not hungry whatsoever.