Since my driver had already packed my bags into the waiting town car, I had nothing to carry as I left the guest suite except for my phone.

The Kozlov compound just outside of Moscow was more of a fortress than a home. The mansion itself was like a palace with its gilded décor and sky-high buttresses. Butlers—yes, there was more than one—housekeepers, cooks, and guards milled about the house, silently going about their respective jobs.

To say that my new wife had grown up in the lap of luxury was an understatement.

I had been standing in the foyer for only about thirty seconds when I heard a series of feminine grunts, followed by hissed Russian coming from the main stairwell.

The scene when I looked up was nothing short of comical.

Lexi was doing her damndest to muscle three giant suitcases down the stairs all by her skinny little self. With every step, she tottered precariously under their massive weight, knocking the hulking objects against her legs and the stair railing. She’d wriggle two suitcases down a few stairs, then reach back up for the third and repeat the process.

Watching her struggles shed light on one glowing aspect of Lexi’s personality.

She wasn’t the type to ask for help.

I couldn’t say I liked much of what I’d seen from the woman so far, but I at least respected that. After all, you could respect someone without actually liking them. There were about a dozen people in the house she could have thrown those suitcases at and strutted off without another word. So, she wasn’t a totally useless, spoiled, whiny, brat.

But why for the love of God did she have to look kind of…cute?

She still wore the same outfit she’d had on for the ceremony—which was admittedly sexy as hell. It showed off her svelte form, her long, lithe legs, slim waist, and high, tight ass. Her breasts were no bigger than teacups, which was fine with me because she had those legs to make up for it.

Legs for days.

Slender enough to contort into any position a man could want. Long enough that he would always have something to grab onto, guide himself into her by. The kind that were made for wrapping around a man’s waist and squeezing him so good as he pounded into her. I had to confess that ever since I’d gotten my first glimpse of the woman, I’d been imagining myself as the man who had those legs wrapped around him like vines.

And don’t even get me fucking started on that cherry red lipstick. A woman could get pretty creative with the kinds of trails she could leave on a man’s body with lipstick like that, if properly motivated.

I could give you so much motivation, baby.

The backwards black messenger hat she wore somehow added a level of cuteness to all that sexy. Her light blond hair was straight and shiny and barely skimmed her collarbone. Her silver hoop earrings peeked through the strands, a look I found damnably hot for some reason. The deep sapphire of her eyes was the kind of color a man could lose himself in if he didn’t keep his wits about him.

Not a problem for me.

Only pussy-whipped douchebags like my two brothers forgot themselves to the point that they got lost in a woman’s eyes.

On a withering sigh, I strode across the foyer and met her on the stairs.

“I’ve got it,” she snapped when I reached for one of the suitcases handles.

I took it back. She was a brat.

She had the most curious accent, too. Clearly some Russian in there, but it was mixed with what sounded like British. Had she studied in the U.K.? I hadn’t gotten that far in my research yet, so I’d have to wait for Ace to get back to me with the details of her education. Whatever you called it, I itched to hear her whisper Russian words in a British accent right before she took my cock between her plump red lips.

Whoa, whoa, fucking whoa. Pump the brakes, Rossetti.

“Yes, I can see that,” I responded snidely. “And as entertaining as this show is, we really need to speed things along. I’d prefer to not be late for my next appointment.”

“Oh, I apologize,” she said haughtily. “We’ve only just been forced into matrimony with each other. Forgive me if punctuality isn’t high on my priority list right now—”

“Allow me.”

Unable to listen to anymore of her sniping with my worsening headache, I snatched two of the suitcases out of her hands, threw them over my shoulders, and took off down the stairs.

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman,” she muttered under her breath, though clearly not making an attempt to be quiet.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, legs,” I shot back over my shoulder. “I just don’t have five years to wait for you to make it out to the car all on your own.”

“Yebat' tebya.”

My steps faltered. She whispered those words like she was putting a curse on me. Not for the first time, I realized I really should have boned up on my Russian before this little trip. If for no other reason than to keep up with the names my wife spat at me.

“Alexia.”

We both spun around at the deep, booming voice.

Sergei’s righthand man and head of security, Dimitri Novikoff, approached us. Dressed in the standard black cargo pants, black thermal shirt, and black combat boots that all the guards wore, he walked into the room like he thought he fucking owned it. With black hair cut brutally short and a deep scar bisecting one cheek, he reminded me of a comic book villain.

The Russian G.I. Joe flashed me a murderous glare before focusing all of his attention on Lexi, his expression noticeably softening.

I hated the way he looked at her.

It made absolutely no sense that I even cared. She wasn’t really my woman. This farce of a marriage was a marriage in name only.

I still didn’t like the son of a bitch.

As they stood close and began murmuring in low Russian to each other, I sensed an obvious level of affection there. I couldn’t quite glean if there was intimacy behind it or just familiarity. Had they slept together? Were they still sleeping together? Based on my information, Dimitri had been a part of Sergei’s organization since he was a teen. Which meant he and Lexi had known one another for years. It would come as no surprise if they’d gotten more than friendly at some point.

Dimitri kept shooting me glares over her shoulder as they spoke in hushed, yet heated, tones. She appeared to be trying to console him, maybe reassure him. Aside from meeting his glares head-on to let him know he wasn’t dealing with a man who would easily back down when threatened, I tried not to pay them much attention. She’d already said goodbye to her father before he’d left for his business meeting. I’d give her two more minutes to say her goodbyes to this Russian schmuck.

Standing idly by proved difficult, though, when he cupped her cheek in his hand, thumb stroking her soft skin.

I noticed two things in that moment.

One, Dimitri was missing the pinkie finger on his left hand, making me wonder who he’d pissed off. And two, my hands involuntarily fisted when he leaned down and laid a longer than necessary kiss on her forehead. Lexi may not have been mine, but she sure as fuck wasn’t his, so he needed to keep his grimy hands off.

He eventually released her, allowing her to step back and once again take hold of her suitcase. As she walked toward me, his gaze lowered to her ass.

“Your boyfriend doesn’t look too happy,” I murmured loud enough for him to hear.

That drew Dimitri’s gaze up to mine. He scowled.

I smirked.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Lexi said through clenched teeth. “Just a good friend who’s worried about me flying off with some American arsehole. Can’t say I blame him.”

“Whoever said the Russians weren’t a charming people.”

She scoffed as she stomped past me and out the front door.

Looking back at Dimitri, I sarcastically tipped my invisible hat at the brigadier. He looked like he was barely restraining the urge to whip out his gun and pump me full of lead. With one final seething glare, he stormed from the room and disappeared.

My driver took the suitcases from me once I reached the black town car parked in the driveway. Of course, Lexi insisted on handing him the third suitcase herself, bypassing me with a ball-shrinking dirty look.

Then the strangest thing happened.

I actually wanted to…laugh at that.

Her indignant expression, her scrunched up nose, her pouty frown. Something about that stubborn attitude made the weight that had formed in my chest the second Sergei said the word “marriage” feel lighter somehow.

And yes, it made my dick twitch, too.

“Do we…?” Her words trailed off as she stood in front of the open car door, her back facing me. Conflict was etched in every tense muscle of her back. She was clearly debating something inside her head.

“Do we what?”

Squaring those tense shoulders, she whirled around to face me. “Do we have time to stop by the Red Gate Orphanage?”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Thinking of adopting a child now that we’re married?”

“As much as I loathe denying a child the opportunity to have such a brilliant role model like you as a father”—I swear to God, I almost smiled at that—“no. I know many of the children there, and I’d like to see them once more before I leave.”

I glanced back down at my watch. “Traffic is going to be a bitch this time of day, and we’re already running late as it is. Sorry, legs, but no go. You’ll see them when you get back, once this whole charade is over.”

I was stunned when her eyes got a little shiny just before she turned away. She acted genuinely hurt that we wouldn’t be stopping. What the hell is that about?

“Bugger.” Turning around again, she rushed back toward the house. “I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”

“If this is an attempt to run away or hide,” I called at her retreating back, “let me save you some time and tell you that I’ll find you no matter where you go. I was the hide and seek champion as a kid.”

She narrowed her eyes at me over her shoulder. “Hiding implies that you want to be found.”

“And you don’t?”

“Not by you.” Then she disappeared through the door.

A small chuckle did escape that time.

I had just pulled my phone out of my pocket to check my messages when the loud crack of gunfire erupted from inside the house, splintering the otherwise quiet afternoon.

And Lexi had just run right toward it.

“Shit!”

I yanked my .45 1911 from its holster and took off at a dead sprint.