had blond hair cropped short on the side, but remained thick and wavy on top. His blue eyes were piercing and almost harsh in appearance—there didn’t seem to be one inkling of kindness in their depths. Her stomach churned at the very idea of spending any time in this man’s company. Poor Ana… Anya hated that, when she finally found a way to return home, the real Ana would be stuck living with this man. She had little doubt that he was indeed Dierk Erich. “Hello,” she greeted him, ensuring she kept her voice low and her demeanor as demure as possible.
“What have you been doing while I’ve been away?” He crossed the room and pressed his thumb to her chin to lift her head up to meet his gaze. “Have you done something you shouldn’t have?”
Plenty…but she wasn’t about to admit that to Dierk. He didn’t seem like the type to take that sort of admission well. For all she knew, he might beat her. “No,” she said, then swallowed hard. “I went to the opera and visited Museum Island, but nothing else.”
He lifted a brow. “Did your father escort you?” His tone suggested he didn’t like her answer. It was too late to take her response back.
“He sent a guard with me.” Hopefully he accepted that. Her heart beat rapidly inside her chest as she waited for him to respond. She hated this. Why did she have to wake up where she didn’t belong? Anya wanted to go home…to the life she knew. This constant uncertainty was playing havoc on her emotional state.
“I suppose that is acceptable.” He pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips against her forehead. It took everything inside of her not to pull away from him. Her skin crawled at his touch. She couldn’t help wishing it was Mr. Jones who held her instead of Dierk.
“Did your trip go well?” She wanted him to leave. What would it take for him to go? It was horrid, but she almost wished he had to anywhere else. He was a bad man and anywhere he went he’d cause havoc. Anya hated how selfish it made her to want him gone. Someone should ensure he experienced the same pain he inflicted on others. Though she doubted it would make him even remotely empathetic. She didn’t like him, and she’d only met him a few moments ago.
“It was a bit of unpleasantness,” he answered, then stepped away from her. He walked over to a nearby table that had several decanters of alcohol displayed. She’d never been tempted to have any of it. Anya hated alcohol, though sometimes she liked a nice glass of wine. Yet if she had decided to pour a glass, several of the embassy’s inhabitants would have given her some odd looks. Dierk poured some scotch into one of the crystal glasses next to the decanters. “I don’t want to worry you over the trivial details.” He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip. “I’d rather discuss our upcoming wedding.”
She’d rather walk over broken glass. “Of course,” she said, at a loss. Anya couldn’t very well admit she had no idea when the wedding was supposed to take place. “What do you have on your mind?”
“We should set a date now that you’re back in Germany,” he said, then took another drink of his Scotch. “We’ve delayed it long enough.”
Anya would delay it forever if she could. “If that is what you wish to do. What date did you have in mind?” She could barely get the question out. What if she had to go through with the ceremony and become his wife? She could barely stand his touch, and to share a bed with him? Anya couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. For now, she’d go through the motions and pretend that the wedding would go as planned. If, when the time came where she had to put on a pretty dress and say vows to this man, she’d bolt. She’d be the runaway bride that made it a fashion trend. No one deserved to be married to a man they didn’t love, let alone one that could be potentially abusive.
“I’d prefer it be soon.” He finished the drink and set the empty glass on the table. “A week if it can be arranged.”
Panic seized her, and she forgot how to breathe. A week? Had he lost his mind? A wedding couldn’t be arranged that fast. At least not an