Betty’s POV

I knew better than to question Ivan when he decided something. A good fiancée knew better than to ask questions. I did not have the privilege of asking questions. This was my life now.

So when Illya opened the back door of the sleek black car and gestured for me to get in, I swallowed every protest sitting at the back of my throat and slid inside. The door shut with a soft thud and he got into the driver’s seat. A moment later the engine rumbled and we were moving.

“What ...