“I was running from Boris and stepped on some glass.”

“I’ll get you to the hospital. I don’t want you to get sick.”

I hold the dress tighter to my body. “I have to change first.”

He takes a look at the dress and scoffs. “You’re not wearing that monstrosity. I’ll buy you a dress to wear on the way there.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I’m … naked.” The word makes me flush, especially as Mikhail rakes his eyes over me. When other men do it, I feel nothing but disgust.

When Mikhail does it, I feel a mixture of arousal and fear. It’s a heady combination.

He grabs the dress and pulls it away, letting it drop to the floor. I instantly cover my breasts. Mikhail makes a disapproving sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t.” He gently but firmly grabs my arms and makes me lower them to my sides.

His fingers skim my waist. I gasp at his touch. Mikhail gazes down at me with a darkness in his eyes. It makes me want to lean in and see what he’ll do to me.

But I’m afraid.

No man has ever seen me naked, let alone touched me. Father never would have allowed it.

Mikhail only touches my waist before he drops his hands. I can breathe the moment he stops touching me, like I’m awakening from a spell. “You’ll wear this.” He removes his jacket, slips my arms through the sleeves, and then buttons it up for me. The jacket is long enough that it covers my body, except for my legs. They’re on full display.

“Now, we should be leaving,” he says. “I don’t want to be in this fucking gaudy church for a moment longer.” He holds out his hand to me.

I have no choice but to take it. But take it, I want to.

Mikhail’s hand is strong and warm around mine. He guides me out of the church and to his car. I have to be careful about how I sit down. I don’t want to open my legs too wide. Mikhail seems to notice what I’m doing because a slight smile passes his lips. I flush again. I can’t seem to stop.

Mikhail gets into the car and starts to drive back to the theater. Being in his presence—his very overwhelming presence—makes it hard to breathe. He smells good—musky in a masculine way. The thought that a man like him wants me is overwhelming.

We don’t speak on the drive. I’m not even sure I can.

Mikhail stops outside of a clothing store. “I’ll be right back.” I watch him leave and enter the store. He’s gone for a few minutes before returning with a bag, which he places in my lap. “There. You can change into it when we’re at the hospital.”

I reach into the bag and pull out a blue summer dress and a pair of ballet flats. “Why did you get me this?”

“You can’t be naked on our way to the airport. And I want to take time picking out your wedding dress. It shouldn’t be rushed. So, this dress will do in the meantime.” His eyes flick down to my legs, and I clamp them shut. I’m acutely aware I’m in nothing but his jacket. His body touched the insides of the fabric just like my body is. I feel hot all over again.

“Thank you,” I say.

“I want to dress you in clothes I buy for you. You’ll only wear what I choose for you from now on.”

I know there’s no objecting to that.

After arriving at the hospital, Mikhail helps me walk inside. I find the nearest restroom and hurry in to change. That’s the one perk of it being the ladies’ room—Mikhail can’t come in. I just need a moment to think.

I change into the dress—which fits me perfectly, though I have no idea how—and slip on the shoes before leaving the stall. I splash water on my face at the faucet and stare at myself in the mirror. I look flushed. And I know Mikhail made me that way.

When I leave the restroom, I see him standing in the middle of the waiting room. A lot of other women are looking his way. He has a powerful aura about him. It makes me feel strangely proud to approach Mikhail and watch the women’s faces fall in disappointment.

“Let’s get that foot looked at,” he says, walking to the receptionist. “My fiancée needs to see a doctor. She has glass in her foot, and it’s bleeding.”

The receptionist, a younger woman, looks stunned as she stares at Mikhail. Shaking herself, she nods. “I’ll get a doctor in to see her right away.”

“Your fiancée?” I ask as we sit down.

His eyes bore into mine. “Yes.”

So, Mikhail is not one for chit-chat. That’s ok with me. I’m not a huge talker either.

A nurse eventually comes to take me into a room to get my foot looked at. Mikhail hovers over me the entire time. I’m not sure if I feel safe or suffocated. Eventually, a doctor shows up. He’s younger and handsome. I notice Mikhail stands closer to me as the doctor removes the glass from my foot.

Once it’s done, he stitches me up and bandages it. “There,” he says, patting my foot. Mikhail frowns. “All better. You didn’t suffer any serious injury. It’ll heal up on its own, but I’m still going to give you a weeks’ worth of antibiotics. Take one every day.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Once I’m discharged, I turn to Mikhail. “I need to see my sisters.”

After asking around, we find Vik in a room across the hospital, Mila with her.

“Sofiya,” Mila exclaims, running to me as I enter the room. “Where have you been? We were worried.”

Vik is propped up in bed with a cast around her ankle. “Yes. Where were you? You did this to me, remember? It was rude of you to leave.” Her eyes widen when Mikhail walks in behind me. “Oh.”

“Feeling better, I take it,” Mikhail says, nodding at her foot.

Vik shifts around, looking uncomfortable. That’s strange. Vik typically looks at ease in any situation. I know she must be hurting badly for her to look so uneasy. “I am feeling better. The doctor fixed up my ankle. Fortunately, it didn’t require surgery. Just a cast and to let it heal. I should be able to dance again.”

“Good,” I breathe out. “So, it’s not the end of your dance career.”

“It’s not,” she says, raising her head proudly. “No thanks to you.”

“I didn’t make you fall, Vik.”

“You’ve put on some weight. You were too heavy for me to lift.”

She’s just taking cheap shots, I know. It still stings.

Mikhail clears his throat, silently reminding me of why we are here.

“Mila, Vik,” I say. “There’s something I need to tell you. Mikhail and I are … getting married.”

Mila gasps and claps her hands together. “That’s wonderful.”

All the color drains from Vik’s face. “That’s …”

“And I’m moving to Russia to be with him.”

Now, it’s Mila’s turn to look horrified. “What? You can’t leave!”