The Marriage Ultimatum (City of Dreams Series) by Charlotte O'Shay Page B
Authors: Charlotte O'Shay
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cent of their modest wage since they’d beds and three square meals provided for them.
Years later, when applying to university in England, he’d concocted a story of losing all of his vital records in a fire. At that moment, Vladimir Grigory was born.
****
Sabrina stirred slowly, unwilling to give up the sweet sleep of exhaustion. But Alex was awake, and he sounded upset, a bad dream no doubt. She fought through the heavy waves that kept her anchored to the warmth of her bed. She’d settle him and snuggle back under the covers in a moment.
Sabrina opened her eyes to the unfamiliar space. It took a second before rational thought reminded her where she was.
He lay on the sofa at a right angle to hers, muttering loudly in his sleep with arms stretched wide. His eyes remained closed. The quilt had tumbled onto the rug, and she could see his chest, covered in only a T-shirt, heaving with each breath he took. As she watched, he grew more agitated, arms flailing, speaking—was that Russian?—until she knew she had to awaken him. She couldn’t bear to see him in such turmoil.
“Vlad, hush, you’re having a bad dream.” She knelt next to the sofa, repeating the words, small hands stroking his hair and his forehead, hoping the action would pull him back from his nightmare. She smoothed her hands lightly along the corded length of his arm and across his tense shoulders until the insensible words faded.
Then she sat in the corner of her sofa, knees drawn up under the blanket, and stared into the flickering embers of the fire, contemplating what demon chased the big, strong, mysterious man beside her.
Chapter 6
Tell Me No Secrets
The watery gray light had filtered through the curtainless windows by the time she awakened, minutes or maybe hours later. She was alone. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, so Vlad must have seen to it. There was no way for her to know the time with no cellphone and she didn’t own a watch. For all that, she’d slept in for the first time in too many months to count; she felt oddly unrefreshed and on edge. The rain continued its monotonous clatter outside. Aside from the rain, the house echoed quiet.
Away from the fireplace, the air was so chilly she could see her breath. She hurried up to the bathroom to wash up then made her way back down to the kitchen. She found matches and lit the gas stove then put the kettle on for coffee and oatmeal, warming her hands near the flame as the water boiled.
All the while, Sabrina couldn’t get the picture out of her mind.
Vlad’s eyes when he’d finally opened them during his dream: inky blue, unfocused, and stark with fright. Almost the same look Alex got coming back to himself after a nightmare. Wherever his subconscious had taken him, it was far away from this beautiful home.
The night he fired her, after Lacey went home and she’d scanned the online job listings with dismal results, she’d googled him. Second, after the shock of being fired, was the embarrassing realization that she knew nothing about the top management of the firm where she worked for three years. She knew so little about VGI’s leader she mistook him for a fellow employee.
The internet search yielded not much more than the predictable outline anyone could see on a résumé.
Vlad studied economics while at university in London and then took a second degree in engineering in the states. His Ivy League degree had been followed by a rapid rise in the leadership of a small shipping concern from which had spawned his own VG Industries. There was a small article, dated several years back, documenting when he became an American citizen and a slew of red carpet type photos with glamorous women at charitable functions.
The man kept his private life private. Any other wizard of industry would have scores of photos across the internet detailing his every move in circles both financial and social. The blurbs about Vladimir Grigory were sparse and measured. What was he hiding? As
Years later, when applying to university in England, he’d concocted a story of losing all of his vital records in a fire. At that moment, Vladimir Grigory was born.
****
Sabrina stirred slowly, unwilling to give up the sweet sleep of exhaustion. But Alex was awake, and he sounded upset, a bad dream no doubt. She fought through the heavy waves that kept her anchored to the warmth of her bed. She’d settle him and snuggle back under the covers in a moment.
Sabrina opened her eyes to the unfamiliar space. It took a second before rational thought reminded her where she was.
He lay on the sofa at a right angle to hers, muttering loudly in his sleep with arms stretched wide. His eyes remained closed. The quilt had tumbled onto the rug, and she could see his chest, covered in only a T-shirt, heaving with each breath he took. As she watched, he grew more agitated, arms flailing, speaking—was that Russian?—until she knew she had to awaken him. She couldn’t bear to see him in such turmoil.
“Vlad, hush, you’re having a bad dream.” She knelt next to the sofa, repeating the words, small hands stroking his hair and his forehead, hoping the action would pull him back from his nightmare. She smoothed her hands lightly along the corded length of his arm and across his tense shoulders until the insensible words faded.
Then she sat in the corner of her sofa, knees drawn up under the blanket, and stared into the flickering embers of the fire, contemplating what demon chased the big, strong, mysterious man beside her.
Chapter 6
Tell Me No Secrets
The watery gray light had filtered through the curtainless windows by the time she awakened, minutes or maybe hours later. She was alone. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, so Vlad must have seen to it. There was no way for her to know the time with no cellphone and she didn’t own a watch. For all that, she’d slept in for the first time in too many months to count; she felt oddly unrefreshed and on edge. The rain continued its monotonous clatter outside. Aside from the rain, the house echoed quiet.
Away from the fireplace, the air was so chilly she could see her breath. She hurried up to the bathroom to wash up then made her way back down to the kitchen. She found matches and lit the gas stove then put the kettle on for coffee and oatmeal, warming her hands near the flame as the water boiled.
All the while, Sabrina couldn’t get the picture out of her mind.
Vlad’s eyes when he’d finally opened them during his dream: inky blue, unfocused, and stark with fright. Almost the same look Alex got coming back to himself after a nightmare. Wherever his subconscious had taken him, it was far away from this beautiful home.
The night he fired her, after Lacey went home and she’d scanned the online job listings with dismal results, she’d googled him. Second, after the shock of being fired, was the embarrassing realization that she knew nothing about the top management of the firm where she worked for three years. She knew so little about VGI’s leader she mistook him for a fellow employee.
The internet search yielded not much more than the predictable outline anyone could see on a résumé.
Vlad studied economics while at university in London and then took a second degree in engineering in the states. His Ivy League degree had been followed by a rapid rise in the leadership of a small shipping concern from which had spawned his own VG Industries. There was a small article, dated several years back, documenting when he became an American citizen and a slew of red carpet type photos with glamorous women at charitable functions.
The man kept his private life private. Any other wizard of industry would have scores of photos across the internet detailing his every move in circles both financial and social. The blurbs about Vladimir Grigory were sparse and measured. What was he hiding? As
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