Wicked Savage: Chapter 41

The morning sun’s rays hit my eyes, and I groan, throwing the pillowy-soft comforter over my face, unwilling to wake up and face this nightmare. But with a resigned sigh, I drag myself out of bed.

Crap, I don’t even have a toothbrush. Yet when I head to the bathroom, I find everything I need, completely brand new.

I brush my teeth quickly, wash my face, and curse the fact that I don’t have my moisturizer.

My stomach growls, reminding me it’s been a while since I’ve eaten. But the thought of sitting next to that man, pretending we’re a couple, makes my stomach twist into knots.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. I wipe my hands quickly before opening it.

And there he is, looking flawless as always. Hair perfectly styled, white tee, gray sweats riding low on his hips, teasing a glimpse of that V leading to the one place that drives me wild.

Nope. Can’t be thinking that right now, Dinara.

“Good morning, baby. How’d you sleep?”

His smirk settles in my gut, sending a rush of warmth spreading through my body.

“Okay. Your bed is comfortable enough. Are my things here yet? I’d really like to take a shower and get changed.”

I’m not even wearing any panties…

He holds out a hand for mine, but I don’t take it.

He grabs it anyway, pulling me out the door. “Let’s have breakfast. After your things are here, you can take a shower.”

We make it down the stairs, entering an immaculate kitchen with a table already set up with plates and glasses. A woman places pancakes onto a platter.

“Good morning, Mrs. Quinn.” She greets me with a smile, her salt-and-pepper hair tucked neatly in a bun. “I’m Mary.”

I don’t even bother correcting her calling me by that name. We’re supposed to get married in a few days. What difference does it even make?

“It’s nice to meet you.” I extend a hand and she takes it in both of hers. “You’re even more beautiful than Mr. Quinn said.”

My face flushes as I remember the disheveled state I’m in. “You’re too kind, but I look like a mess right now.”

“Oh,” she scoffs, throwing a dismissive hand. “You look great.”

His mouth drops to my ear, his hand squeezing mine. “Just perfect. It’s gonna be hard for me to eat knowing you’re not wearing anything under my shirt.”

I elbow him as she watches us.

“Go ahead and sit, you two lovebirds.”

Lovebirds? I laugh to myself. If she only knew how many different ways I imagined killing him before getting out of bed.

“I’ve made all of Mr. Quinn’s favorites,” she goes on. “But if there’s anything else you’d like, just let me know and I’ll add it to the menu.”

“Anything you make is fine,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Alright, then.” She smiles, setting down strips of bacon and muffins before bringing over pancakes and croissants.

After pouring a pitcher of what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice, she heads out, leaving the air straining with tension. He pulls out a chair and sits, but before I can take mine, he pats his lap.

“This is your seat, leannan.”

I laugh and start to move toward the empty spot across the eight-seat table, but his gaze sharpens, his expression hardening.

“Dinara.” The single word is a warning.

With a smirk, I slowly drag the chair back, keeping my eyes locked on his, and finally settle into it. He shakes his head, his gaze intense, before rising to his feet. In one swift motion, he grabs me around the waist, and before I can react, he tosses me over his shoulder with a grin.

The cool air hits my ass as I fight him to let me down.

He spanks me hard across my behind. “You keep trying to get a rise out of me, baby, and it’s only making me want you more.”

He lowers onto his seat and takes me with him, one arm around my back, my legs dangling over his. That heated gaze drops to my thighs, a growl emanating from his chest. When his fingers roll up my knee, I quiver, releasing a pant. I can’t even control myself when he touches me. How am I supposed to resist him?

“I have something for you,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, each word carrying a husky rhythm that tempts me to want things I shouldn’t.

Sleeping with him at the club while pretending to hate him was one thing, but here, in his home, with the way he’s holding me so protectively, it’s different. And I don’t want things to be different.

My gaze drops to where his free hand slips into his pocket, and all the air evaporates from my lungs as he pulls out a small jewelry box. A tightness forms in my chest, taking me back to when he bought me the tennis bracelet. The one I stopped wearing as soon as I came home.

I didn’t want him to know how much I still missed him, how much that bracelet meant to me. But the truth is, when I wore it all that time in Italy, it forced me to remember all the good times we had, and that only fueled the anger I felt over how he ended things.

I was a fool to beg him to stay that night when he told me he’d never love me. I won’t be that girl again.

“What is this?” I force myself to come across indifferent.

He pulls me off his lap, and before I can even process what’s happening, he drops to one knee, opening the box in front of me.

My heart stops.

“Dinara Marinova, will you marry me?” His eyes gleam, and a knot tightens in my stomach.

I know it’s not real. We’re both being forced into this, but still, in the depths of my broken heart, I wish it was.

I stare at the round solitaire diamond glistening in the light, nestled against a silver band. My impulse is to beg him to put it on my finger, to make it feel real, but it’s also the last thing I want.

“I don’t think I have a choice in the matter, now, do I?” I mutter.

“But what if you did?” The way he says it, so full of emotion, tightens my throat.

“We don’t live in a make-believe world, Cillian. This is what has to happen. What I want never mattered.”

He grinds his jaw, the tension between us palpable. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter, because you will be my wife, whether you like it or not.”

He slips the ring on my finger, and everything inside me wants to cry. This should be a happy moment, but all I feel is a hollow ache.

Pulling me back onto his lap, he grips my thigh, while the ring on my finger is a reminder that I’m his now.

“What would you like to eat?” he asks, his gaze locked on mine, softening as the tension ebbs away.

His fingers lazily roll over the top of my left hand, the warmth of his touch spreading through my limbs like a comforting blanket. And I hate that it feels like that, like he’s everything I need.

“Pancakes,” I manage.

He fills his plate, never breaking eye contact as he cuts a piece and brings it to my lips. When I feel him harden beneath me, heat stirs between my thighs.

“Open your mouth, Dinara.” His voice is smooth, yet rough—a deadly concoction of sin and seduction.

I part my lips, and he feeds me, watching me intently.

And the way he does, like he enjoys feeding me, has a shiver running down my spine.

The SUV pulls up in front of a high-end bridal shop in New York City, and Cillian steps out of the driver’s side, opening the door for me. Two of his men remain in the backseat, their presence a constant reminder of his watchful eyes.

“I’ll be around until you’re done.”

“Yeah, okay,” I reply, not bothering to call the girls yet to update them on the new wedding date or my new living situation.

My sister, of course, knows. Konstantin told her, and she’s not exactly thrilled about my sudden departure either.

Luckily, all my clothes arrived before our flight here, so now it’s just a matter of getting my dress sorted. I know exactly what I want, so this will be easy.

When I step inside the store, I’m caught off guard to see my sister, Natalia, and Alisa already waiting for me.

“Oh my God!” I gasp, hand instinctively clutching my chest. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You really think we’d miss this?” Natalia shakes her head, a playful grin spreading across her face as she comes over to give me a hug, followed by Alisa and Tatiana.

“It’s not like I’m exactly excited about it,” I mutter just as a woman in a sleek pantsuit approaches.

Her teeth flash in a polished smile. “Mrs. Quinn.”

I wince internally. Is he telling the whole world I’m a Quinn now? I force a smile and return the greeting.

“I know we don’t have much time before your big day,” she continues. “But I promise everything will be delivered on time. We just need to pick something today.”

She’s trying hard to sound confident, but even she seems a little nervous. They’ve probably promised her a lot of money to get this done quickly.

“I know exactly what I’m looking for,” I tell her, outlining the specific details of the dress I have in mind.

Tatiana’s gaze expands. Leaning in, she whispers, “Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” I reply with a confident grin.

“Well, then I have just the perfect gown for you.” The woman turns and disappears into the back.

Natalia laughs. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?”