38
CORA
I’m on the back patio, twirling the diamond planet around and around my ring finger, when I hear the doors open.
I whip around hopefully. Then I’m forced to face the disappointment that floods me when I see it is Anya standing in the doorway rather than her brother.
I haven’t seen Ivan once since we got back from the interview. When I saw Niles coming out of his office a couple hours ago, even he looked frightened by whatever he’d seen in there.
High Lord Ivan is in a foul mood, it would seem.
“Howdy.” Anya sounds friendly enough, but I can see the wariness in her eyes as she approaches.
How am I supposed to behave around my pretend sister-in-law after lying to her about loving her brother? I settle for a stiff wave. “Good to see you again, Anya.”
She stops in front of me and lifts her huge designer sunglasses up into her wavy hair. “Is it? Because you look miserable.”
Whatever nonsense I was about to say falters.
“Easy.” Anya eases into the chair across from me. “I know the truth, remember? You don’t have to pretend to be happily in love in front of me. What has my brother done now?”
The last couple days rise up like bile in my throat. The need to tell someone—anyone—what is going on is almost overwhelming.
But I can’t tell Anya about my dirty dreams or the sex shop or the way I can’t decide if I want to smother her brother with a pillow or drag him beneath the sheets with me.
“Nothing. Everything is great. We’re doing fine.”
Anya arches her brow and doesn’t say a word.
It doesn’t take long before my paper-thin resolve gives way. I sag in defeat. “We had an engagement announcement interview this morning. I’ll be shocked if the reporter doesn’t also announce our imminent divorce at the end.”
She winces. “That bad?”
“Worse. He barely spoke to me all morning, which is fine. I get it. It’s not like we’re really… I mean, this isn’t real.” I’m not sure if I’m reminding myself or Anya. “Ivan doesn’t owe me anything. But it almost felt like he was sabotaging his own plan. All we had to do was hold hands and smile and tell a few pretty lies, but he hung me out to dry. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”
Anya reclines back in her chair and slides her sunglasses back down on her nose. “Oh, my brother. He’s a funny one.”
“‘Funny’ is not the word I’d use to describe Ivan.”
“Unique, then,” Anya amends with a smirk. “He can be hard to pin down if you don’t know him very well.”
I’m not sure if she means it as a jab or not. Either way, she’s right. I don’t know Ivan very well. At all.
“Does that mean you can pin him down? Because I would love some tips. One minute, he’s this smooth, effortless man who can charm the panties off of—” Anya gives me a look and I clear my throat. “He’s charming, is what I’m trying to say. Then the next, he’s a block of ice. When we had to hold hands for a photo op, I thought I was going to lose my fingers to frostbite.”
Lies. Despite how terrible the interview had gone, heat had still pulsed through me.
That's the real trouble with Ivan. If anyone else treated me like he does, I’d run as fast and as far as possible in the other direction. But even when he tries to push me away, my body draws closer.
“I guess…” I take a deep breath. “So much of what we’re doing is pretend. So I guess I just don’t know which side of him is real.”
“They both are.”
I frown. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“He has a lot on his plate. He’s responsible for everything.” Anya sits up and folds her hands in her lap. “Part of it is my fault. Things were different before I got married. Ivan had the freedom to—” Her eyes cut to me and she shakes her head and lets the sentence linger unfinished. “Things changed after that.”
I know her father doesn’t approve of her husband. She told me as much. Their father also made it clear he would never approve of me, either.
“Just a waitress” echoes through my head. It’s not the kind of thing you forget easily.
Anya reaches over and pats my knee. “He just needs time to adjust.”
“I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this. The hot and cold moods are a lot to navigate.”
Especially when the hot is so obscenely hot. It would almost be easier if he was always the sexy, flirty Ivan I met that night at the party. I can prepare for that. But when he goes from one extreme to the other, I just get lost in the mix.
Anya frowns at me, her full mouth reminding me far too much of her brother for my liking. Then, suddenly, she jolts upright. “I know exactly what you need.”
“A mood ring?”
She smiles. “Even better. You need a date night.”
I can’t help but snort. “I think it would be easier to get Ivan into a mood ring wedding band than it would be to get him to agree to a date night with me.”
“Yeah, right,” she dismisses. “Have you seen yourself? Unique my brother may be, but underneath it all, men are the same. The promise of you in a little black dress will be all the encouragement he needs.”
“You do remember this is a fake relationship, right?”
“Oh, I remember. Believe me. But the attraction is real. I know my brother well enough to know that you are every bit his type.”
I tell myself I don’t care if I’m his type. It doesn’t matter. It certainly doesn’t change anything.
We’re still not getting married.
We’re still not having sex.
We’re still faking this insanity ‘til the cows come home.
“You two just need to get to know each other,” Anya continues. “You can’t plop down in front of cameras and act like a couple if you haven’t practiced.”
That almost makes sense. How are we supposed to easily touch and play if we’ve never done it before? Performing in front of other people is way harder than doing it in private.
Although Madison from the sex shop might disagree.
She points at me. “I can tell you’re on board.”
“I’m only on board if Ivan is on board. I’m here to do what he says, and—”
Anya groans. “My brother needs a kick in his pants. You can’t just roll over every time he asks, Cora.”
I turn my face towards the sky to hide the flush warming my cheeks. She has no idea exactly how eager my body is to roll over under Ivan Pushkin.
“Dinner,” I mutter. “That’s it. If Ivan agrees, we can do dinner. Just dinner. Not a date, but a night to…to practice.”
She claps her hands. “Yes. Okay, I will totally make this happen. Tonight.”
She seems oddly confident as she marches away from me and into the house on what I’m sure is a doomed mission.
Ivan was a wall of ice this morning. There is no way even Anya, as sweet and bubbly as she is, can melt him down by tonight.
But if she does, I suppose a little practice won’t be the worst thing in the world. I’d love to endure the next few days, weeks, or however long this takes with something akin to a friendly ceasefire. I’m sure that’s possible without blurring the already very muddy lines between us…
Right?
I groan and sink down into my chair. It’s fine. Anya’s plan will probably fail, anyway.