That's the last reason why I want her.
The light turns green, and as I pull away, a heavy silence falls between us. By the time I park the G-Wagon and we climb out, you can cut the tension between us with a butter knife.
I grab Mariya's bag and wait for Lev and Ivan to join us, then order, "Stay down here. She doesn't need you in our home."
Mariya follows me to the elevators, and when the doors
slide shut, she mutters, "Like a lamb led to the
slaughterhouse."
"You're no lamb, mia regina."
Her eyes flick to me. "What did you call me?"
The doors open, and smiling, I gesture for her to walk.
"My queen."
She pauses, her eyes searching my face. With a shake of her head, she steps into her new home. "No way in hell am I calling you my king."
"We'll see about that," I chuckle. I watch as she glances around the living room with a flicker of curiosity.
The entire penthouse is decorated in black slate stone, the furniture matching shades of dark charcoal. I've inherited my love for all things black from my father.
"Not bad," she murmurs. She turns her attention to me.
"Just show me to the guestroom, and I'll get out of your way." Letting out another chuckle, I shake my head. I walk to the stairs and hear Mariya behind me. I ignore the four guestrooms and don't even bother showing her around.
Entering my bedroom, now hers as well, I drop the bag by the foot of the king-size bed. "This won't be a marriage in name only." I turn around and capture her wary gaze. "You'll sleep in my bed."