If I ever marry—and that’s a big if—I’d want a husband who’s the complete opposite of my father, not someone who’s even darker and more brutal.
Alexei leans in even closer, until his face is mere inches above mine and I can smell that subtle masculine cologne he wears, the one that makes me think of winter forests in the depths of night. “That’s not an answer. What is it that you’re objecting to? Me or the idea of marriage?”
“B-both.” Dammit, why did I stutter? Fighting the urge to shrink back from his intense stare, I add in a steadier voice, “I don’t want to marry, and I definitely don’t want you.”
“No?” Bending his elbow to lean on one forearm, he lifts his other hand off the wall to trail his fingertips over my jaw. A cruel curve appears on his lips as my breath catches in my throat
