Page 14 of Mistaken
She drew herself up on those stiletto heels and looked down her nose at me. “That is the Pakhan’s suite. No one is permitted to enter without his invitation.”
Aaand, my big mouth opens again. “Oh, I see. At least until we get married next week. I’ll probably institute a more open-door policy.” I leave her standing there, her perfectly lip-sticked mouth open and walk into the dining room. And to my doom, because Maksim is standing there and it’s clear he overheard us.
“I see you’ve had your tour around the penthouse,” he said, looking unfairly handsome in an amazingly well-tailored blue suit that makes his eyes light up. I’d seen him in Smooth Operator mode at the club before he roofied me, but I didn’t get a chance then to appreciate the whole package, how those long legs fit those pants so well, his jacket stretched perfectly across his broad shoulders. His hair is swept back and styled and you would have never known this was the same sociopath who’d been chasing me through the woods in the middle of the night.
“Yes, Maksim, Alina was so kind as to give me a tour.”
“Excellent. I’m sure you’re quite clear on how well you’re guarded. No one can enter - or leave - without me knowing it.”
“I see that, thank you.” I’m right on the edge of sass and with witnesses to this interaction, it was probably time to shut up.
Staring down at me warningly, he says, “Karida, this is my fiancée, Ella Givens, Ella, this is our wedding planner, Karida Hassan. She’s the most sought-after planner in New York City, but she’s graciously agreed to step in at the last moment to help us.”
Karida was also unreasonably attractive. Silky black hair swept up into a smooth chignon, beautiful, tawny skin, and liquid brown eyes. She was also - just like Alina - staring at me with an expression that meant she thought she would have been a better option for the position of Mrs. Maksim Morozov.
“Lovely to meet you,” she said, with a distinct New Yawk accent that clashed hilariously with her exotic gorgeousness.
“And you,” I tried to smile, but my cheeks were beginning to hurt with all the fake expressions I was forcing.
“Before you two sit down to lunch, I will have to say goodbye.”
I must have looked like a complete dolt, my mouth hanging open and staring at Maksim, but he was so… charming? So incredibly charming. Not at all like the man who’d told me he was going to murder my only family and my best friend not two hours ago.
“But first, darling, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.” Maksim smiled charmingly at me. Oh, so charming.
“Of course,” I tried to look at him adoringly but based on his expression, it wasn’t working.
His hand went to the small of my back and ushered me briskly into another room. How many rooms were there in this tribute to excess? The door was barely shut when his giant hand landed on my throat. It seemed to be a favorite move of his, and my watery knees still wanted to buckle in acute fear. Charming Maksim Morozov had left the building.
“Here is our backstory,” he said sternly. “We met at my other club in-”
“You have another club?”
Dark brows drew together as he stared down at me, his thumb pressing slightly against my tap-dancing pulse. “The Chvrch.”
“In the Meatpacking District?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I never go down there. All the skeevy guys from Wall Street hit the District to party, so-”
“Be quiet.”
Maksim waited for me to nod before continuing. “We met at The Chvrch about six months ago and have been seeing each other quietly ever since. I proposed on a weekend trip at my beach house in St. John’s. You have not been wearing your engagement ring because we had it resized to fit your finger. In fact-” He dropped his hand from my neck and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet-covered ring box. Flipping it open, he pulled the ring free and had it on my finger before I could get a good look at it. “We are not confirming nor denying rumors that you might be pregnant-”
“Hey! Hey hey hey-” I shut up as his hand moved up to my neck again.
“But we moved up the wedding date rather quickly, so there will be speculation.”
Heaving for breath, I stepped away from him. He was too close and I could smell his cologne and feel his body heat and it was all too much. I was aware that I could not have possibly done that if he hadn’t let me, but I must have looked as terrified as I felt.
Putting his hands in his expensive suit pockets, my “beloved” fiancé watched me try to drag in enough air to avoid passing out.
“Ella.”
This time, his tone was not as terrifying. “You have to control yourself. You have to look and behave as a happy bride-to-be would. This ensures the continued good health of the people you care about. I know you are quite capable of doing this.”
My hand was on my stomach, mindlessly making sure the baby thing was fiction. He was so convincing that I almost believed it. “H- how do you know that?”
