Confused, I slipped off to sleep. Nightmares of Edward overwhelmed me.

In one, he was covered with blood—mine—creeping closer to me. I stood frozen in place, unable to force my body to run—my only defense. In the background, I heard those ugly, wet sounds Julia had made as she’d strangled on her own blood. Again and again, I struggled to escape, begging Edward to leave me alone, but he kept stalking closer, vowing to me, “I will BUTCHER you! I will cut you into pieces while you live!” My body jolted on the bed. I shot awake, sucking in breaths. Had we just landed? Why hadn’t Máxim awakened me?

Once we began taxiing on the runway, I went to the lavatory. I’d never had nightmares about Edward this bad. Had I flown right back to him?

I washed my face, peering into the mirror. The relaxed woman I’d beheld days ago was gone, replaced by the Cat I’d seen for years.

When I rejoined Sevastyan in the cabin, I drew back at his expression. His tension had morphed—into seething anger.

I’d never seen him so furious. “What’s happened? What’s going on?” He could hardly look at me. That fury was for me?

I was in love with him, and he couldn’t look at me.

He shot a vodka, saying nothing. His knuckles were white on the glass, that muscle in his jaw ticking.

In a daze, I followed him off the jet into the limo, though he acted as if he could’ve left me there on the tarmac.

We hadn’t even gotten under way before he’d downed his first shot from the Bentley’s bar. Here we were, back in sunny Miami—and it felt like the Arctic in here. He took another call, his tone clipped. We were closing in on the hotel before he hung up the phone.

“Máxim, I don’t know what’s happened with us, and I need you to explain it to me,” I said. The divider was cracked, and Vasili could hear everything, but I didn’t care.

“I told you I have a lot on my mind. We’ll discuss it later.” Everything about his demeanor said: Back off.

“You’re putting walls up between us. Please don’t. Talk to me.”

“Very well.” He poured another steep vodka. “Marry me.”

“Qué?” I couldn’t get enough air.

“I want you to marry me. Today.”

I was about to throw up. This wasn’t happening.

“I’ll take that as a yes. We’ll go directly back to the airport and fly to Las Vegas.” He said something to Vasili, and the man began to slow the car.

To turn around.

I shook my head. “G-go to the hotel.”

“Give me a reason.”

“I’ve only known you for two weeks.”

“Are you sure there’s no other reason?” he demanded.

“Why are you being like this?”

He snapped something to Vasili, and we resumed our course to the hotel.

Sevastyan turned his infuriated gaze to me. “You didn’t even consider the possibility of marrying me. Not for the briefest second, did you? Last night, when you caught the bouquet, you looked miserable about it. When I placed that garter on your leg, your body stiffened against me as it never has before.”

“Everything was too . . . it was a lot to take in over one weekend. As of Christmas Day, I thought we would be parting on the twenty-eighth.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “You’ve got your claws all in me, and you’re looking for the door! You have never even imagined a future with me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” How to explain? I’d known I was going to have difficulty revealing my past to him. Now, freaked out and emotional, I could barely find words. “It’s just that . . . things are complicated.”

“I’ll bet they are.”

“What does that mean?”

He waved that away. “I just told you I’d marry you. A woman in your position should’ve been tempted.”

“My position.” As someone who sold sex.

“But then, the problem with all my wealth is that I come with it!”

This argument had taken me completely off guard. Because I’d lowered my guard with him.

“What the fuck was I thinking? I told you there’d be no one else. That you were with me. I confided things I’ve never told another soul.” The pain in his eyes rocked me. “And I don’t even know your real name. I expected things from you I shouldn’t. I can’t force you to change.”

“You want me to change?” I couldn’t disguise the hurt in my voice. “How?”

“For instance, when I inform you that I’m a former hobbyist, you might mention to me that you are a former escort. Just a thought.”

I rubbed my temples. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t know where it’s coming from.” Maybe he regretted revealing his past. I believed talking to me had eased something in him—but it still would’ve had to hurt, to leave him raw. Was I getting the backlash from that? “Why are you coming at me like this?”

“You shouldn’t have let me believe you were attainable if you aren’t. You let me believe you could be won.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You lied about that and so many other things. You looked people in the eyes, and the words danced from your tongue. You deceive better than a politician.”

My confusion was turning to anger, my foggy mind clearing. “I get your mistrust. I have reasons not to trust others too. But you need to understand something.”