Brielle's POV Desperation twisted Ivy’s face, her eyes pleading, “Liam’s life is hanging by a thread, Brielle. Every minute we argue is another minute we lose. If you’re scared of seeing Sanjay again because of some ancient history between you two, you need to get over it. Fast." Jeez. I thought I got over him. Why the hell am I so worked up at the thought of seeing Sanjay again? Sanjay's this adorable, Indian guy I used to have a major crush on. I mean, I tried everything—cards, letters—to get his attention. And nothing. I’m still kicking myself for being so stupid. I’d tried so damn hard to get over him, to put those feelings to bed once and for all. What if seeing Sanjay again stirs up those old feelings? What if I start liking him all over again? I’d already tied the knot with someone else, and the last thing I needed was any more complications. In a nervous tic, I began twisting the ring on my finger, a gesture that caught Ivy’s eye. She gave me a questioning look, an
Brielle's POV Entering the grand living room, of the Carter estate, I was greeted by a familiar sight: Andrei, seated in his wheelchair, a slight, almost knowing smile playing across his features, visible even in the soft, subdued lighting that cast a gentle glow across the room. “I'm glad you made it back safely. Ms. Monroe.” My smile was subtle. But then, a sweet, divine scent captured my attention: the roses in Andrei's grasp. Those flowers were a sight to behold—all delicate and fragrant. With a gentle, almost courtly gesture, he presented me with the bouquet. I gratefully accepted them. But a nagging thought gnawed at the back of my mind. It wasn't my birthday, and it was far too early for Valentine’s Day. Curiosity getting the better of me, I inquired, "What’s the occasion?” “Not everything needs to be tied to a specific occasion, When you share your life with someone special, every day is something to be cherished. And that, Ms. Monroe, is what I wanted to do
Brielle's POV It was as if I were being bombarded with all this contract talk from Andrei Carter. He was talking a mile a minute about what it entailed and all that, but I was lost. Still, he kept throwing out questions, asking if I agreed completely, if I was okay with it. How could I possibly say yes or no, when I didn't have a clue what I agreed to? I had made it abundantly clear that I hadn’t signed any marriage contract with him, yet he continued to push the issue. By the time dinner rolled around, I was completely drained. Two days as a married woman, and already I was up to my eyeballs in chaos. I needed sleep like a drowning man needs air. *** I awoke to find Andrei calmly seated in his wheelchair, his distinctive smile greeting me as it always did. As my vision adjusted to the light, I noticed a tray resting on his lap, carrying a warm cup of tea and several freshly baked cookies, whose tantalizing scent wafted through the air. “Edna was just outside with
“Brielle. It's quite a surprise what… What are you doing here?” Sanjay's question mirrors my own thoughts. “I'm interning at Centurion Medical Center under the supervision of Eva Adams. That, that explains why I'm here.” Right. He's working with Dr. Eva, the ice queen herself. That woman had some serious nerve, dismissing me like that. I understand she's a high-profile doctor and all, but a little common courtesy won't kill her. “What about you, Brielle? What brings you to Centurion Medical Center today?” “I, uh…” My eyes darted away. Sanjay's brow creased, concern flashing in his eyes as he looked at me. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re here?” “No, no. Sanjay, I'm not sick. Can we… can we talk outside?” I shot a quick glance at the partitioning curtain, the hushed voices of Eva and Andrei still echoing behind it. We exited the office and entered the hospital's sterile corridor. Sanjay stated, “I've been trying to reach you, Brielle, to inform you that Liam has been
“A patient needs our attention, not idle chatter about romance,” Eva's footsteps announced her arrival behind me. She directed a stern look that was all business to Sanjay, “You should go check if the patient in the operating room is ready for his pre-anesthesia evaluation. I’ll handle things here.” I glanced over at Ivy, —she was waving her hand, a grin on her face as she bared her pearly whites at Sanjay. In response Sanjay offered a subtle wink. And I couldn’t help but wonder if these two were up to something fishy. With Sanjay’s departure Eva turned to Ivy and me “If you wouldn’t mind giving us some space, we need to avoid overwhelming the patient.” “Brielle should wait behind” Drey said without looking at me, his tone—which usually held warmth—growing chilly. What the hell was that about? Was he mad at me for leaving him behind? Jeez, it's not like I had a choice. After all It's his bossy, know-it-all doctor who thinks I'm crazy. 'Buying her an Audi won't make her an
“I thought you two had discussed it, Helen. That’s why you’ve been holed up in your room, right? You seemed so upset.” Edna said. “What do you mean ‘discussed it' Edna? You think I would be okay with her moving in if I knew about it?” Helen retorted.As if on cue, Andrei wheeled himself into the living room, his voice level as he replied, “I did mention it in passing, Helen. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.”Somehow, I was angry at him. I mean, here he was putting his doctor before his ‘pretend wife’. Didn’t matter we were in a contract marriage; I deserved to know. ‘Moving in’ meant Dr. Bossypants was coming to stay.Whoa, hold on a sec. Maybe this whole thing's about Eva and Andrei not trusting me.They both might be looking at me and thinking I'm the crazy one. Seriously, are they really out here believing I'm unstable?I let out a big, exasperated huff, flabbergasted by the whole mess.The back-and-forth between Andrei and Helen only got heated, “No, no Andrei. You to
I could feel Andrei's body restless, fidgeting and turning. His sleep was fitful, and his mumbles were filled with confusion. Among the garbled words, one name stood out clearly — Anna. I turned towards him. I gently placed my hand on his arm, attempting to soothe him in his slumber, but the intensity of his body heat startled me and I pulled my hand back. He seemed to be displaying symptoms of fever. I dropped off the mattress, a silent battle raging within me. Should I call his doctor? But was she even helping him? I just wasn't sure. Once again, I softly called his name. His brown eyes, fluttered open, darker and heavier than normal. His breathing was rapid and shallow. My heart was going a mile a minute, and Before I could catch my breath, the door swung and then, in comes Eva, “I'm here to give Andrei his medication,” she stated matter-of-factly. “In the future, have the decency to knock before barging into someone's bedroom.” I snapped. The nerve of her acting li
“Jamie's been spotted, huh?” Eva scoffed, her eyes dancing with a mocking light. “You guys are starting to sound like a bunch of ghost hunters, honestly.”Edna glared at her, her lips thinning into a defiant line. “Don't you dare brush this off like I'm seeing things.”Paul stood stoically beside Andrei as he directed the course of action. ”I need the CCTV footage ensure that's on my desk within 24 hours. And while you're at it, ramp up security around the property. We can't have any more surprises." Paul nods silently, then exited the living room where we all gathered. “I'm telling you, I saw her.” Edna's certainty was almost… tangible, “It was Jamie. That champagne blonde hair and those piercing gray eyes—I'd know her anywhere.”The image of that blonde, gray-eyed woman from the hospital flashed through my mind. Could she be Jamie?“I believe you, Edna,” Helen stated, “Andrei needs to get a handle on this Jamie situation. One maniac is more than enough to deal with; we don't need
Brielle's POV He leans in again, His mouth hovering over my breast, “How many white lies have you told?” “One.” He pulls back, “Think again.” I knit my brow trying to focus, to pull my scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. It's a futile effort. I'm still drowning in waves of pure ecstasy. Andrei's lips close around my nipple, and I moan at the sudden sensation. He releases all too soon, again. “Two lies, baby” he purrs. “The first, when you said you never fucked yourself.” His words ignite a thrill that courses through my body, culminating in a sweet ache between my legs. “And the second when you denied ever having fantasies. Now, are you ready to confess them to me… and be rewarded?” His grip on my hand slackens, freeing my fingers to roam. He’s upon me, his mouth latching onto my nipple. Sensation overwhelm my ability to think as His tongue swirls and dances, only to pull back again, letting my nipple pop out of his mouth with a wet plop. I writhe be
Brielle's POV “I'd taken his crap before, no problem. He'd kick my ass, I'd take it. But watch him hurt a three-year-old?” That chuckle, that creepy-ass chuckle, is making my hair stand on end. Andrei's got a lot to say, needs to stop drowning in that drink and talk it out with me. Perhaps if we can get to the root of whatever’s got him so twisted, we can cut it out, get him right again. I screw up my courage, trying to keep my voice from cracking as I ask, “What happened next?” “I lost it. Charged at him and slammed him to the ground. I had him in a tight chokehold, crushing the air out of him. His face turned purple, eyes popping… Killing Archibald wasn't the plan. Just wanted to put the fear of God into him… In a wild twist, he managed to grab a blade and… Carved himself a nasty gash.” Andrei scrapes his thumb along the side of his neck, “This is where he sliced himself. Fucker cried assault. Tried to put me away for attempted murder.” “And Helen?” “Was locked up a
Brielle's POV He gives my earlobe a sneaky little nibble. Damn, if that doesn't stir up something inside me, “Why rush when the journey is half the fun, hmm? We've got lines to run, not lips to lock.” So glad Andrei's here to suck the fun out of… everything. What would I do without him? I'm two seconds away from giving him a good shove, just to knock him off his game. “What?” he asks, that infuriatingly smug smirk still slapped across his face. I purse my lips, cross my arms, “You're really asking 'what'? Like you don't know exactly what you're doing?” Andrei whips out a sheaf of papers from his back pocket, "Shall we begin?” I narrow my eyes, “You expect me to jump right into this after all your little games?” He chuckles, shrugging one shoulder in a charmingly nonchalant gesture. “It's all part of the rehearsal.” “Part of the rehearsal, huh?” I retort, “So that little earlobe nibbling number was in the script? I must have missed that memo.” He laughs," I figure
Brielle's POV My heart stutters, “What?” I try to speak. The words wouldn't come out. Not one single word is showing up to the party. Wearing a sidelong smirk, Andrei jerks his head towards the elevator, “she's been tapping her foot impatiently. Shall we give the poor thing some attention?” Nodding, I swallow my regret. Why didn't I just say something? “I'm intrigued, Brielle. This demure side of you is… unexpected.” He plunders the guest room closet, digging through piles of high-quality linens, designer clothes, and expensive accessories. it's basically a carbon copy of his own — super luxurious. I stand back, curious about what Andrei's searching for. My nerves are still on edge, which is… ridiculous. “Guess, I'll coax them out of you. Every last one.” My curiosity spikes, “How?” “All in good time. Shall we get you into something a bit more… refined?” The robe he hands me is a stunner — bold red, V-neck, and flowing long sleeves, all accented perfectly with
Brielle's POV. Drying soap bubbles speckle Andrei's hands as he meets my eyes, “What's so fascinating?” “It's your charm, Mr. Carter, that's got me in a stare.” His mouth curves into a sly, upward tilt, “You're not so bad yourself. Maybe we can stare at each other for a while and see who cracks first.” Deep down, I'm thinking, 'Seriously, Mr. Carter? Are you not seeing this ensemble?' Perhaps he's just trying to be kind? Yeah, that must be it. After completing the dishes, Andrei takes a moment to dry his hands before wandering over to where I'm sitting, his pace leisurely. I stare at his bare feet, my brain momentarily fixated on the sight. “Why no shoes, Mr. Carter?” “Walking barefoot is like a yoga practice. Builds up the balance, strengthens the soles, and gets you in touch with Mother Earth.” I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. How much of that is actually true, I wonder? He reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me gently into his orbit. And suddenly, my focus shifts from An
Brielle's POV. Andrei’s sweatpants could have fit two of me—and the kitchen sink. He’s a big guy, but these pants were made for a grizzly bear on a beer bender. If I didn’t cinch the drawstrings tight enough, I’d be wading in a sea of fabric, wearing a tent masquerading as sweatpants. I’m halfway through adjusting my shirt when I catch a glimpse of my him in the kitchen. Oh, dear lord. The man might as well be wearing oven mitts for hands. I reach for a bottle of water, partly because I’m parched, and partly to cover up the fit of giggles that’s about to erupt from my lungs “You okay, chef?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face as I watch him fumble with the spatula. “Yeah, sure Brielle.” He scratches his forehead, and I can practically see the sweat beading up. Poor baby's never looked so stressed. “Sure you've totally got this, Andrei?” I survey the chaos, raising an eyebrow at the egg-astrophe. The shells are scattered everywhere and there's a bowl of what appears to be e
Andrei's POV Can’t bear to see Brielle cry. It tears me up inside when she’s hurting, and I don’t know what to call that feeling. It's something profound. Something so much stronger than just basic empathy or sympathy. I'd take a beating any day over seeing her hurt. “If you're willing to spend the rest of your life behind bars, Andrei, then you'd better have a plan for how I'm supposed to move on without you. How do I live without you by my side? You'd better have an answer because otherwise, I won't let you take that step.” “Jail for life? You're jumping to conclusions.” She shoots me an incredulous look. “Are you seriously gaslighting me again?” I laugh, the sound a little rough around the edges. "I'm talking forever with you, Brielle – but not the kind that involves parole officers or therapists' couches." Her head cants to one side, Her gaze skewers me, a sharp, pointed thing that demands an answer. “Andrei, do you honestly believe that talking to someone about our
Brielle's POV “What's going to happen?” I ask. A simple query, yet one that stirs my heart to frantic rhythms. A faint sneer ghosts Andrei's lips as opens the car and steps out into the night air. I follow suit, Why? Because I'm dying to know what's gonna happen. The glint in his beautiful brown eyes is unmistakable, as mischievous as a raccoon raiding a trashcan, “A war is coming, Brielle. A category 15 hurricane that's gonna rip our families apart. We're talking Corleones vs. Tattaglias, but instead of just guns and money, it's gonna be secrets and lies that kill us. You know how Tony Soprano's crew thought they were above the law? Yeah, our families are about to take that to a whole new level. You ready for that?” I respond in kind, my tone tart with annoyance, while fighting the impulse to shake some sense into him." Are we reenacting The Godfather or something? Is someone gonna wake up with a severed horse head in their bed?” My eyes narrow, daring him to feed me anot
Brielle's POV The Aston Martin Vantage is parked curbside That glossy blue paint job is pure perfection. And there’s Andrei, his lean frame propped against the car like he’s auditioning for a part in ‘The Fast and the Furious: Therapy Drift.’ His effortless charm is on full display as he lounges against the car… Why, do I feel like a gas station hotdog next to his caviar-and-dom-perignon charm? That’s right, I’m feeling like a greasy, no-frills piece of road trip sustenance compared to his gourmet level of sophistication and style. He’s the Maserati, and I’m the beat-up Honda Civic from the 90s. “Took you longer than I expected.” With I calming breath I query, “No heads-up, huh? Why's that?” “Seriously, Brielle? You're asking me why?” “Didn't you send me a text asking about my therapist choice?” The passenger door swings open, and he steps back, his eyes never leaving the horizon. He's not even bothering to look at me, just stands there, holding the door. I'm thinkin