I nod. “That is true. She is going to be my wife. Maybe I should get her flowers to cheer her up. There is a twenty-four-hour florist in town that does all the wedding flowers. Surely, they can do a bouquet now.”
“I would maybe just let her cry it out of her system, sir,” he says.
“Okay, okay. You’re excused. I’ll see you in the morning.” I stand up and shut off the lights. He goes through the back while I go to bed.
For crying out loud, she’s still sobbing when I pass her room, but I try to ignore it. I won’t lie, it’s tugging at me a little, but then I remember how Arseny was saying I’m going to get soft at dinner. I can’t let that happen, so I go shower. A nice hot shower and a little masturbation set my nerves at ease. I picture her.
I remember her that night, how she tasted and moved with my body, and the smell of cinnamon that lingered after she left.
It was her perfume that smelled like cinnamon, and it was fiery like she should be. The weakness she is showing now is just annoying.
I get changed into a pair of boxers after my hot shower and climb into bed. I can hear her through the wall, so I settle back and open my book. It’s a private indulgence—the classics.
I try to read as much of David Copperfield as I can before I set it down and switch off the light, trying to get comfortable.
Still, she sobs. At this rate, she’s going to be a dehydrated prune. How long has she been doing this, and fuck, how long is this going to carry on for?
I toss and turn, trying to ignore the sobs and wails that come from her room. I am starting to believe she’s doing it to drive me mad. I stare at the ceiling, longing for her to stop, and when I feel like she might be starting to slow down, she starts fresh and louder.
I get up and storm over, slamming her door so loudly I startle her. She is sitting up, hugging her knees. Her face is red and blotchy from crying so much, and her eyes are puffy.
“For the love of all that is holy, can you please stop crying and get some sleep? I actually have to work in the morning.” I shake my head. “Stop crying this instant and go to fucking sleep.”
“You can’t just demand I stop feeling emotions,” she angrily sobs out. “You can’t just abduct me because I’m pregnant with your child and force me to stay in your home as a prisoner. This isn’t how life works. Normal people don’t do this.”
“Well, I’m not normal people, and that sucks for you, but you’ve signed the contract. Now go to bed.”
“I will sit and cry,” she sobs. “For as long as I want, and if you don’t like it, then you can banish me to the other side of the mansion and never look at or speak to me again.” She flips over and starts sobbing again.
“You are being ridiculous,” I roar.
“You’ve robbed me of my life. How did you expect me to react?” she shouts through her sobs.
“Don’t talk shit, I did a background check on you, and you had no life. Your life consisted of a shitty cheating boyfriend, work, and a crappy apartment. You’ve been upgraded, so you can be damn grateful it’s me and not some backyard drug dealer or bookie that would abuse you.”
I leave the room, slamming the door behind me. I go back to my room and slam the door as well. I get into bed and pull my pillow over my head, trying to drown out the sound of her crying, but it carries on for another full hour.
Eventually, I fall asleep from exhaustion because I can’t take it anymore. I wake up, and a few hours have passed. It’s probably about two or three in the morning, but thankfully, she’s not crying anymore.
I pull the pillow off my head and lie on it instead. I stare up at the ceiling and feel bad. I feel bad that I yelled at her while she was crying. I know I was just tired. I will have to make it up to her.
Chapter 10 - Penny
I don’t want anything to do with this asshole, but as the days go by, he lays down the law pretty thick.
First, it’s the meals. I have to eat most of my meals with him and present myself as his perfect fiance whenever anyone is around, regardless of who it is—staff or family.
He has started dropping hints about how I will behave around his mother. How I will be agreeable and how I will be pleasant. I don’t agree to any of this.
I’m sent out shopping with some guards and a designer to get new clothes. I won’t lie, I did enjoy this part. I get to go to the high-end boutiques that cater to curvier women, and I get some totally nice fitting clothes, and just to spite Kervyn, I spend as much as I can on clothes and things for my bedroom.
He insists I always wear my engagement ring. It’s beautifully designed, a white gold band with a leaf of diamonds on top. He says it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just for show, but I notice him eying it out now and then as though trying to accept that he’s engaged.
I don’t know why he chose me. I’ve seen some of the women at the club where he works, and they are drop-dead gorgeous. They could be or probably are high-end models. But he’s marrying me.
At meal times he plans the wedding with me. He says no cost is too great, and although I’m tempted to go over the top lavish and ridiculous with this, I have always wanted a beautiful wedding. If this is going to be my only opportunity to have one, then I am going to make it count.
I sometimes meet him at the club for lunch so he can show me off. It’s been officially announced amongst his men that I am his fiance, and I’m pregnant with his child. I have a security detail that goes with me everywhere except the toilet.
When we have lunch with his men or anyone from the family, I am to be seen and not heard. I’ve learned that the hard way.
When I’ve spoken out a few times about something to ask a question, the men laugh at me, and Kervyn tells me to mind my business. He’s quite cold with me when his men are around. You would swear this isn’t the same man who made such passionate love to me two months ago.
I’ve had another checkup on the baby, and Kervyn insisted on coming with me. He was disappointed that it was too early to tell the gender of the baby. That gave him the idea to have a gender reveal party, which is another thing I now have to sit and plan.
I’m eleven weeks pregnant, and my cravings are pretty bad. At the moment, pickles and mayo on brown toast are my thing. I make sure to wake Kervyn up with this craving most nights, and on nights he anticipates it, I indulge one of my others just to annoy him.
I plan on doing just that as I come downstairs when I notice a dark-haired stranger standing at the base of the stairs. He looks up at me, and his green eyes meet mine. I blush slightly.
I’m wearing an off-the-shoulder flower dress and sandals. My hair is loose in lots of little curls.
“Ah, you must be my cousin's fiance,” the man says with a thicker accent than Kervyn and his brothers have. “My name is Zakhar. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He holds out his hand, and I take it. “I’m Penny.”
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. “A simply beautiful name for a simply beautiful woman. My cousin doesn’t know how lucky he is.”
“Your cousin knows exactly how lucky he is.” We turn to see Kervyn come downstairs with a smile. “Zak, it’s a pleasure to have you visiting.”
