Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FIONA
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him again.
Cold. Cruel. So damn sure of himself. That smug little curl of his mouth the second I let those unforgivable words slip out.
I’ll marry you.
Now it’s the next day, and I’ve been running on autopilot since I walked into the office while that stupidly expensive dress hangs in my closet, reminding me of what’s coming next. My stomach heaves at the thought, and I can barely concentrate on my work.
The case files blur, and I swear I’ve typed the same line in a report three times and still can’t remember what it says. Hours have passed with me staring at my monitor while the edges of my world quietly unravel.
Even Dana noticed.
Mid-afternoon, she leaned over my desk, her brows knitting in that soft mother-hen way of hers. “You okay?”
Of course I lied. Said I was tired. Headache. Not enough coffee.
What was I supposed to say?
Hey, remember that mobster I tried to put behind bars? I’m marrying him next week. No big deal.
She didn’t push, but I could see it in her eyes: she didn’t believe me.
Maybe that’s why she invited me out after work. Drinks with some of the other ADAs. A little unwinding, a little gossip. Normally, I’d have smiled, made some excuse, and gone home to Netflix and wine.
But today? Why the hell not? My life already feels like it’s over. Might as well toast to my own funeral.
Because what’s my other option? Go home and stare at the walls? Count down the hours until I’m Mrs. Marinova, serving a sentence in a cage I walked into myself?
I glance at the clock. Almost time to go.
My stomach flips. Not because I’m afraid of walking into a bar with a few coworkers. But because I don’t know if he’ll be there. If he’ll follow. If I’ll look up from my drink and find him watching from some dark corner like he always does. Like a curse I summoned and can’t outrun.
God, when did my life turn into a twisted reality show?
I’m just out of the Uber, heels clicking against the cracked pavement outside the bar, when my phone buzzes and Emilia’s name lights up the screen.
“Hey.” I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder as I adjust my purse strap.
“Hey yourself. You there already?”
“Yeah. Just got to the bar. Dana and a few of the others beat me here. I had to finish a brief before heading out.”
“Well, have fun. And sorry I couldn’t make it. Being pregnant at a bar sounds about as appealing as a root canal.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips. “I get it. I just...wanted you here.” I fight the disappointment. “But I don’t blame you.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Okay,” she says gently. “What’s going on? You sound...off.”
I stop just shy of the door, staring at the wash of neon light across the sidewalk.
“You’re going to find out sooner or later anyway.” My throat tightens as I force the words out. “Aleksei threatened to ruin my parents if I didn’t marry him. The wedding’s supposed to be next week.”
There’s a sharp inhale before she says, “I’m gonna kill him.”
“No.” My answer is quick, almost panicked. “Don’t. I can’t risk him doing something to them.”
She exhales, slow and furious.
“My parents need a win right now,” I say, quieter. “I don’t care what happens to me, but I won’t let him drag them down with me.”
“I’ll help. I’ll talk to Konstantin. We’ll figure something out. He’s not going to get away with this.”
My eyes flutter to a close. I didn’t even need to ask.
“Thank you. Seriously.”
“You never have to thank me. We’ll talk later, okay? Love you.”
“Yeah. Love you too.”
Ending the call, I shove my phone deep into my purse and square my shoulders.
Then I push through the door into the hum of music, low lights, and the kind of bar noise that makes your thoughts scatter.
Dana’s already waving me over, with two of the other women from the office crowded around a high-top table.
“There she is!” Dana grins. “We already ordered a round. Hope you’re ready.”
She hands me a pink shot, and I don’t even bother asking what it is.
“Cheers!” She clinks her glass against mine, the others following suit.
“Cheers,” I mutter, lifting my shot like I’m toasting to my own execution.
The liquor burns going down, and I already want another. I flag down the bartender, and as I ask for a refill, Dana arches a brow, amused.
“Okay, girlfriend, let’s go!”
Thank God tomorrow’s Saturday. I can sleep off the poor choices and pretend, for a few blissful hours, that my life isn’t in flames.
The next shot dulls everything. The rage, the dread, the way Aleksei makes me feel like I’m flying only to rip the ground out from under me. By the third, my limbs start to loosen and I feel a strange buzz under my skin.
“Damn, girl,” Dana laughs. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly, waving her off. “Just felt like cutting loose.”
We move to the dance floor, and I let them pull me into the center, the bass thrumming through my chest like a second heartbeat. The lights blur, bodies swaying in a tangle of limbs and laughter. For a moment, I let myself get lost in it, not thinking about my future husband at all.
Until I feel hands at my waist, and I stiffen, half expecting a tall, broody Russian with a five o’clock shadow and sexy hand tats. But alas, all I find is a cheap replacement.
“Hey,” a man says, grinning down at me. “You wanna dance?”
“No.” I shake my head and force a polite smile. “I’m getting another drink.”
I weave through the crowd, ignoring the way he trails after me like static cling. Back at the bar, I slide onto a stool and take a breath.
He pulls up beside me. I open my mouth to order, but he beats me to it.
“It’s on me.”
Every part of me knows I should say no. But my head is still buzzing and, well, maybe I just want one last man buying me a drink before the new one kills them all.
“Sure. Why not? Thanks. A dirty martini, please.”
He nods at the bartender, and as he orders, my phone vibrates in my bag. I fish it out and see her name.
Mom
Tesoro, can we talk? Are you okay? What happened with Aleksei?
She’s been calling all day, but I haven’t had the energy to talk to her.
What’s there to say? I’m hurt she’d even want this for me. It’s one thing for me to do it for them, but it’s another when your own parents think you should.
I shove the phone back into my bag and turn to face the stranger again. He’s decent-looking. Dark eyes, sharp jaw. Almost handsome.
Just not Aleksei handsome.
Don’t. Don’t even go there. You definitely need more alcohol if you’re comparing random bar guys to Russian criminals.
“Here you go.” He hands me the glass.
“Thanks.” I take a sip, the liquor biting sharp enough to make my eyes sting.
He starts talking—something about work, I think—and I lie easily. Say I’m in marketing. Something vague enough not to invite questions.
Then it’s travel. Something about a trip to Spain, or maybe Portugal? I nod. Smile. Laugh when he does.
But I’m not really here. My gaze keeps flicking to the corners, waiting for him to appear like he always does, but I can’t seem to focus. Everything in front of me is starting to blur. Dana and the girls are still dancing, but now there’s two of them. Or maybe four?
My head thumps.
“Shit,” I whisper, pinching my temples.
The room warps. The guy on my right seems to glitch, his figure stretching, then snapping back in front of me.
“I…I need to go.” I push to my feet too fast.
The ground lurches. My drink sloshes. My stomach flips.
“Whoa.” His hand catches my elbow. “Hey, you okay?”
I try to speak, but my tongue’s thick. “I…I think I should g-go home. Can you…can you call a car?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I blink rapidly, trying to find Dana through the crowd. She was here. I swear she was just here. Where is she?
Oh God. I’m going to be sick.
I stumble. His grip tightens.
“I need air.”
“Okay, come on. We’ll wait outside. The car will be here in two minutes.”
I nod, but it feels like my head’s made of lead. Everything feels wrong. And all I can think is, why does it feel like the floor’s falling out from under me and why the hell did I drink this much?
I’m going to regret this tomorrow.
His arm slips around my waist, and my mind goes straight to Aleksei. How furious he’d be if he saw someone else touching me like this.
If I’m supposed to be his wife, I’m guessing sleeping around isn’t part of the arrangement.
But…does that mean he can?
The thought crashes through my haze like a sledgehammer.
I can’t ask him. That would make it seem like I care.
But what if it’s not about caring? What if it’s about setting boundaries? About demanding respect? That doesn’t mean he matters to me. Everyone deserves respect.
Am I even making any sense right now?
Cool air hits my face, and I realize I’m outside. The man is still holding me. Still steering me. My God, this is humiliating. I never get like this.
“I-i-is the-the cab here?” I slur.
“Shit, I think we missed him.”
Oh no. I can’t wait all night.
“I can just take you home. Another cab will take too long.”
“Nooo, that’s…okay.” My words stumble over themselves.
No way am I getting in a car with a stranger.
He chuckles. “Honey, relax. I’m not trying to hurt you. You look like hell. I’m just trying to be a gentleman.”
His arm tightens. Too tight. My pulse spikes. I try to pull back, but my limbs are sluggish, my vision smearing like wet paint.
He opens a door. Black? Blue? I can’t make out the color.
Oh my God.
“Get off of me.” I push, but it’s weak.
“Shut up and get in before you cause a scene, stupid lush whore.”
Fear clamps down on me, cold and suffocating.
He tries to shove me inside. I fight, weak and uncoordinated. When I open my mouth to scream, his hand slams over it.
Pure terror slices through me.
This is it. This is how I die.
Then, out of nowhere, he’s gone, ripped away from me like a toy snatched from a child. I stumble, gasping.
Shapes move in the dark. Three? Four? But my vision won’t focus.
Strong arms wrap around me, holding me upright.