Chapter 1 - THE MARRIAGE THAT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE REAL
“Lena.”
I turned so quickly that the silk blouse slipped from my hands.
Adrian Volkov stood in the doorway of my bedroom, his jacket gone, his white sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“Yes?”
His gray eyes moved from the open suitcase to my face.
“You'll need your passport.”
I frowned.
“Where are we going?”
“Montenegro.”
I stared at him.
“Montenegro?”
“The Adriatic coast.”
“I know where Montenegro is.”
“Good. Then I won't have to explain the geography.”
I folded my arms.
For three months, I had been married to a man who spoke to me as though every conversation were an inconvenience.
And now he was ordering me onto an international flight.
“Why?”
Adrian looked at his watch.
“Because we're going on our honeymoon.”
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I laughed.
It wasn't a happy sound.
“Our honeymoon?”
“Yes.”
“Three months after our wedding?”
“That's generally when a honeymoon happens. After a wedding.”
I stared at him.
“You told me this marriage was a business arrangement.”
“It is.”
“You said we would maintain separate lives.”
“We have.”
“You haven't even eaten dinner with me.”
Something flickered across his expression.
“Lena—”
“No.”
The word surprised both of us.
I straightened.
“You don't get to walk into my room and announce that I'm leaving the country without explaining why.”
His jaw tightened.
For one terrible second, I thought he might shout.
Instead, he looked toward the suitcase.
“The Volkov and Hart families are negotiating a major shipping agreement. Our marriage was intended to stabilize that partnership. My associates are questioning why my wife and I never appear together.”
I stared.
“So this is a performance.”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt more than a lie.
I looked away.
“Fine.”
Adrian remained in the doorway.
“There's something else.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course there is.”
“We'll be staying at my family's estate near Kotor.”
“Wonderful.”
“And I need you to understand something before we arrive.”
I looked at him.
His expression had changed.
The cold arrogance was gone.
In its place was something almost like concern.
“Whatever you see there,” he said quietly, “don't trust anyone who tells you they knew your mother.”
My heart stopped.
“My mother?”
Adrian's eyes held mine.
“Pack your passport, Lena.”
He turned.
But I caught the door before he could leave.
“My mother died when I was six.”
He went still.
“I know.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he looked back at me.
May you like
And whispered the sentence that would change everything.
“That's what your father told you.”
