Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
VIKTORIYA
T he pain is excruciating as I lay on the stage floor, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. I can’t even look at my ankle. I can just tell it’s bad.
My ballet career is over. It’s hard to come back from a broken ankle, but I’ll try. I’m not the type of woman to give up.
“It’s ok. It’s ok,” Celine is repeating over and over again.
“Will you shut up?” I grit out.
She sits back on her heels. “Sorry.”
I’m surrounded by the other dancers, and it’s too much. Normally, I love the attention, but right now, I’m humiliated.
“Where’s Sofiya?” I ask, looking around. My eyes land on Mila, who’s hovering beside me. “Where’s Sofiya?”
Mila shrugs. “I’m not sure. Don’t worry about her right now. Just focus on yourself. You’re in pain.” She presses her hand to my forehead, and I smack it away.
“I don’t have a cold, Mila. I have a broken fucking ankle.”
Mila blinks, and then her eyes water, making me feel terrible.
Before I can comfort her, Mikhail shows up. I didn’t even realize he was in the audience. Hopefully to see me.
“Mikhail.” I reach my hand out to him. “Have you come to comfort me?” I may be in pain, but I am going to milk it for as long as I can. Maybe this will get Mikhail to want to be with me.
But then he asks. “Have you seen Sofiya?”
I slump back onto the ground, feeling my heart getting ripped out of my chest. How can he like my sister? Sofiya is nothing special.
“I haven’t. As you can see, I’m in pain.”
His eyes flick down to my ankle. “I am sorry about that, but I need to find Sofiya.” Then he walks away.
I want to cry out to him to stay, but he doesn’t want me.
He wants my sister.
SOFIYA
The taste of Boris’s hand on my lips is disgusting. It’s salty and briny, and I don’t want to know why that is.
He shoves me into his car and locks the door before I can try to leave. I watch him stumble around to the driver’s seat and get in.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“We’re getting married. Remember?” He nods toward the backseat. “Your dress is there. You can change when we get to the church.”
“Boris, this is crazy. You’re kidnapping me. My father wanted you to protect me. Not do this.”
“Your father wanted to see you married,” he says, driving away from the theater. “And so, you’re going to marry me. I could tell you wanted to run, so this is me making sure you can’t do that.”
I could still run even after we’re married, but there’s no use telling Boris that. I don’t want to make him more upset. The image of pointing his gun at Vik’s face is seared into my mind. Boris is a dangerous man if provoked.
“Don’t you want me to agree to marry you willingly?” I ask, trying a different tactic.
Boris scoffs. “I don’t care about that. A beautiful woman like you would never willingly marry a man like me. So, I’m taking what I want. I learned that from Mikhail.”
I whip my head around to stare at him. “Mikhail?”
“He’s a man who gets what he wants. I figured I could be the same. He wants you, and I won’t let him have you.”
His words make me blush. Mikhail wants me? Why? A powerful man like him could have his share of women, but he wants me. The thought is flattering but also intimidating. Mikhail intimidates me.
But right now, it’s not Mikhail I need to fear. It’s Boris.
“You can’t just take me,” I say. “I’m a woman. Not property.”
“To me, you are. You really think your mother wasn’t property to your father? She was his plaything. His trophy. And now, you’ll be the same to me.”
“But—”
“You’re not going to get a better offer than me, Sofiya.” He swerves around a car, making them honk at us. I grip the door to steady myself. “I have money. I can protect you. I can protect your whole family. If you’ll let me.”
You’re not offering me a choice , I think.
“What if I want to be with someone else?” I ask. Instantly, I regret it. Boris grabs his gun from his jacket pocket and aims it at me while steering with his other hand. I press back into my seat, trying to get as far from the gun as possible, though it’s futile. If he wants to kill me, he can.
“There’s no one else,” he growls. “You think a man like Mikhail will treat you with respect? He’ll want you to be his trophy, too. All his Bratva men are like that. Time to get used to it, Sofiya. I want you, so I’m taking you. I’ll protect you, I promise. I won’t hurt you.”
“But you’re pointing a gun at me.”
He briefly looks at me before slowly lowering his gun. “There? Better?”
“Yes.”
“See? I’m not a bad guy. You can trust me, Sofiya.” He plants his palm on my knee. All I want is to push it away, but I don’t dare. “Your father would approve of us getting married. This is for the best. For everyone.”
For you . No way is this the best for me.
The best thing for me is freedom. The chance to make my own choices in life. To choose what I want to do, ballet or not. I don’t even know what I like outside of ballet, and I want to find out.
But now, I never will. Because Boris will control me until I can’t breathe. The Bratva will never let me go.
Boris stops the car in front of a church. I notice his hand remains on my knee. He’s rubbing my skin, and it’s taking everything from me not to vomit all over again. I don’t think my throat could take it.
“We’re here,” Boris says, smiling at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable. He licks his lips.
“Do you need lip balm?” I don’t even know why the question escapes me. It just does.
Boris frowns. “Why would I need lip balm?”
“Because you’re … your lips. You’re licking your lips. I thought maybe they were dry.”
“No,” he says gruffly, turning away from me. I’ve embarrassed him. “Now, let’s go. You can change inside.”
He unlocks the door so I can get out. The moment my feet touch the ground, I take off running. I don’t even think. I just do.
Boris runs after me, but he’s not very tall and not very fit. I practice ballet every day, and I do other forms of workouts like yoga and Pilates. I’m in great shape. I can outrun Boris any day of the week.
Except I’m in my ballet shoes, which were not made for running on the sidewalk. I accidentally step onto broken glass shards and stumble. I cry out, clutching at my foot. Who leaves broken glass shards on the ground? It’s New York, I remind myself. The streets are filthy.
I hobble around, trying to look at my foot. Blood is already seeping through my ballet shoe. “Oh my god.”
“Got you,” Boris says, grabbing my arm. I wrench away from him and start running again, but it’s harder with a messed up foot.
“Stop!” Boris shouts before a loud gunshot goes off. I freeze and look back at him. He has his gun aimed to the sky, but then he lowers it to face me. The few other people on the street run away screaming. “Get into that church. Now.”
“If you kill me, you can’t marry me.”
“No. But I can just marry your younger sister, Mila.”
And that does it. Boris doesn’t want Vik because she’s impossible to control. But I am. I’m softer than Vik. I don’t have the same backbone.
As for Mila—she’s the sweetest out of us. The most kind. She would crumble if she had to marry a man like Boris.
I can’t let that happen.
So, I limp back to his side, trying to keep weight off my hurt foot.
“Good choice,” he says, tucking his gun away. “Now, let’s get married.”
The inside of the church is grand and ornate. Russian Orthodox, after all. Boris pushes me into a small office where I can change into my gaudy wedding dress.
I expect Boris to shut the door and lock me in here until we’re ready to be married, but instead, he joins me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m going to make sure you actually change into your dress. I paid good money for it. I don’t want you trying to escape again.”
“But I have to get naked.”
Boris smiles darkly. “Exactly.”
Oh my god. I think I might pass out. My foot is throbbing. If I don’t get it looked at soon, it could get infected. How am I going to do this?
Boris opens his jacket and shows me his gun.
It’s enough of a reminder to grab the dress from him before I start to undress. First, it’s my tutu. I hate the way Boris eyes me over once I’m just in my leotard and tights. Then comes my ballet shoes. I wince as my injured foot screams in pain as I take the shoe off. A piece of glass is sticking in my foot. I peel it out, which only causes me to bleed more.
Boris doesn’t even bother to help me.
I stand back up and take my leotard off. I have nothing underneath it, so Boris can see my naked breasts. He licks his lips again, and vomit comes up my throat before I push it back down.
Lastly, I remove my tights and am fully naked before him. My hands are shaking as I grab the wedding dress.
“Take all the time you want,” Boris says. “Your naked body will soon be under me.”
I’m frozen in fear. This is my life now. Being tied to a man in marriage who will hurt me. Rape me.
The day of my parents’ funeral was an omen. It was a sign of the other bad things to come. Boris walked right into my life, and I was too powerless to stop it. There’s nothing I can do—not if I want to save Mila.
Then the door bursts open.
Mikhail storms into the room and stops when he sees what’s happening.
Boris jerks back and reaches for his gun, but Mikhail strides across the room, grabs Boris’s gun, and sticks it into his own jacket. Mikhail straightens his jacket before turning to me.
His eyes seep into mine.
It’s only then I remember I’m fully naked.
I squeak and press the dress to my body while my face turns hot. I wonder how I look—a mess, my foot bleeding, stark naked.
Mikhail inhales deeply and takes a moment to look at me longer than is appropriate before he faces off with Boris. “So, you thought you could kidnap my woman.”
My woman? I didn’t think I belonged to Mikhail, but for some reason, I’m not as bothered by the thought of belonging to Mikhail as I am to Boris. I just don’t want to be property.
“She’s not your woman, Mikhail,” Boris says. “Her father permitted me to find his daughters husbands. Seeing as I’m a man in need of marriage, it only makes sense.”
“Funny. I’m also a man in need of a marriage. And I’m not sure if Denis Morozova wanted his daughters married to a little fucker like you.” Mikhail towers over Boris. It would make me laugh if I wasn’t so afraid right now. Being in a small room, naked, with Mikhail is making me woozy.
“Denis never said I couldn’t marry one of them. So, I’m choosing to marry Sofiya. You can't stop it, Mikhail. You may own all of Russia, but this is New York. You don’t belong here.”
Mikhail doesn’t yell or shout or even move. He just stares Boris down until Boris physically shrinks right before my eyes. “You are not marrying Sofiya. I am.” Mikhail’s voice is eerily calm. “She’s coming with me right now. And if you were smart, you wouldn’t try to stop us. Because if you do, you won’t like the outcome.”
“The outcome?” Boris barely gets the words out.
“Choose your pick.” He pats Boris on the arm, which makes Boris jump. “Now, leave the room. I don’t want to see your ugly fucking face anymore.”
Boris turns to me. “Remember, Sofiya. If you don’t marry me, I will go after Mila.”
I jerk. He’s right. “I have to marry him,” I say to Mikhail.
He walks right over to me, standing so close I can feel the heat from his body. I’m even more aware of my naked state. I press the dress tighter against me.
“You don’t have to marry him,” Mikhail tells me. “You will marry me.”
“Do I get a choice?”
“No.”
I believe him. A man like Mikhail does not take no for an answer, and that terrifies me. What will Mikhail do to me once we’re alone? I definitely don’t trust Boris, but I also don’t trust Mikhail. He could hurt me just as easily.
“What about my sister?” I ask through numb lips.
“I only want you. I don’t care about your sisters.” His bluntness makes me flinch. “You will be married to me, Sofiya. You will come with me to Russia.” I inhale deeply. “And what happens to your sisters is out of my control. It’s not your duty to take care of them. It’s Boris’s now. Your father entrusted him to care for them.”
“There’s nothing you can do about that? They can’t … come with us?”
“No,” he says again, crushing my heart. He turns to Boris. “Leave.”
Boris gives me one final look before walking out the door. Now, I’m alone with Mikhail, and I’m not even sure I can remain standing.
I stumble back, and Mikhail catches my arm. His touch is somehow both cool and hot at the same time. He lets his hand linger before removing it, but even once it’s gone, I can still feel his touch.
“Why do you want me?” I whisper.
He gently places his hand on my cheek. I just barely lean into him. “Because I do.” That’s the end of his explanation. I want to know more, but I don’t think Mikhail is a man you can convince to do anything he doesn’t want to do.
“What’s going to happen now?”
“Now, I take you with me to Russia. There, we’ll be married. And there, we will spend our lives together.”
I gulp. “But New York is my home.”
“I don’t care. Russia will be your home now.” The way he’s so blunt hurts me.
But it also … excites me.
“I have to say goodbye to my sisters. Please. Give me that, at least.”
He nods. “I will. Your sister was probably taken to the nearest hospital to the theater. We’ll go there.”
That’s right—Vik broke her ankle. I can’t believe I’ll have to leave her while she’s in pain. And leave Mila, too, to fend for herself. Boris will set his sights on her, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Mikhail is an unmovable force. He wants me, so he’ll have me.
And then I remember my foot. “I need to get this looked at.” I lift my foot so he can see.
“How did that happen?” His anger surprises me. I didn’t think Mikhail cared about me, but the way he’s looking at me with concern shows maybe—just maybe—he has a softer side to him.
“I was running from Boris and stepped on some glass.”
“I’ll get you to the hospital. I don’t want you to get sick.”
I hold the dress tighter to my body. “I have to change first.”
He takes a look at the dress and scoffs. “You’re not wearing that monstrosity. I’ll buy you a dress to wear on the way there.”
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I’m … naked.” The word makes me flush, especially as Mikhail rakes his eyes over me. When other men do it, I feel nothing but disgust.
When Mikhail does it, I feel a mixture of arousal and fear. It’s a heady combination.
He grabs the dress and pulls it away, letting it drop to the floor. I instantly cover my breasts. Mikhail makes a disapproving sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t.” He gently but firmly grabs my arms and makes me lower them to my sides.
His fingers skim my waist. I gasp at his touch. Mikhail gazes down at me with a darkness in his eyes. It makes me want to lean in and see what he’ll do to me.
But I’m afraid.
No man has ever seen me naked, let alone touched me. Father never would have allowed it.
Mikhail only touches my waist before he drops his hands. I can breathe the moment he stops touching me, like I’m awakening from a spell. “You’ll wear this.” He removes his jacket, slips my arms through the sleeves, and then buttons it up for me. The jacket is long enough that it covers my body, except for my legs. They’re on full display.
“Now, we should be leaving,” he says. “I don’t want to be in this fucking gaudy church for a moment longer.” He holds out his hand to me.
I have no choice but to take it. But take it, I want to.
Mikhail’s hand is strong and warm around mine. He guides me out of the church and to his car. I have to be careful about how I sit down. I don’t want to open my legs too wide. Mikhail seems to notice what I’m doing because a slight smile passes his lips. I flush again. I can’t seem to stop.
Mikhail gets into the car and starts to drive back to the theater. Being in his presence—his very overwhelming presence—makes it hard to breathe. He smells good—musky in a masculine way. The thought that a man like him wants me is overwhelming.
We don’t speak on the drive. I’m not even sure I can.
Mikhail stops outside of a clothing store. “I’ll be right back.” I watch him leave and enter the store. He’s gone for a few minutes before returning with a bag, which he places in my lap. “There. You can change into it when we’re at the hospital.”
I reach into the bag and pull out a blue summer dress and a pair of ballet flats. “Why did you get me this?”
“You can’t be naked on our way to the airport. And I want to take time picking out your wedding dress. It shouldn’t be rushed. So, this dress will do in the meantime.” His eyes flick down to my legs, and I clamp them shut. I’m acutely aware I’m in nothing but his jacket. His body touched the insides of the fabric just like my body is. I feel hot all over again.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I want to dress you in clothes I buy for you. You’ll only wear what I choose for you from now on.”
I know there’s no objecting to that.
After arriving at the hospital, Mikhail helps me walk inside. I find the nearest restroom and hurry in to change. That’s the one perk of it being the ladies’ room—Mikhail can’t come in. I just need a moment to think.
I change into the dress—which fits me perfectly, though I have no idea how—and slip on the shoes before leaving the stall. I splash water on my face at the faucet and stare at myself in the mirror. I look flushed. And I know Mikhail made me that way.
When I leave the restroom, I see him standing in the middle of the waiting room. A lot of other women are looking his way. He has a powerful aura about him. It makes me feel strangely proud to approach Mikhail and watch the women’s faces fall in disappointment.
“Let’s get that foot looked at,” he says, walking to the receptionist. “My fiancée needs to see a doctor. She has glass in her foot, and it’s bleeding.”
The receptionist, a younger woman, looks stunned as she stares at Mikhail. Shaking herself, she nods. “I’ll get a doctor in to see her right away.”
“Your fiancée?” I ask as we sit down.
His eyes bore into mine. “Yes.”
So, Mikhail is not one for chit-chat. That’s ok with me. I’m not a huge talker either.
A nurse eventually comes to take me into a room to get my foot looked at. Mikhail hovers over me the entire time. I’m not sure if I feel safe or suffocated. Eventually, a doctor shows up. He’s younger and handsome. I notice Mikhail stands closer to me as the doctor removes the glass from my foot.
Once it’s done, he stitches me up and bandages it. “There,” he says, patting my foot. Mikhail frowns. “All better. You didn’t suffer any serious injury. It’ll heal up on its own, but I’m still going to give you a weeks’ worth of antibiotics. Take one every day.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Once I’m discharged, I turn to Mikhail. “I need to see my sisters.”
After asking around, we find Vik in a room across the hospital, Mila with her.
“Sofiya,” Mila exclaims, running to me as I enter the room. “Where have you been? We were worried.”
Vik is propped up in bed with a cast around her ankle. “Yes. Where were you? You did this to me, remember? It was rude of you to leave.” Her eyes widen when Mikhail walks in behind me. “Oh.”
“Feeling better, I take it,” Mikhail says, nodding at her foot.
Vik shifts around, looking uncomfortable. That’s strange. Vik typically looks at ease in any situation. I know she must be hurting badly for her to look so uneasy. “I am feeling better. The doctor fixed up my ankle. Fortunately, it didn’t require surgery. Just a cast and to let it heal. I should be able to dance again.”
“Good,” I breathe out. “So, it’s not the end of your dance career.”
“It’s not,” she says, raising her head proudly. “No thanks to you.”
“I didn’t make you fall, Vik.”
“You’ve put on some weight. You were too heavy for me to lift.”
She’s just taking cheap shots, I know. It still stings.
Mikhail clears his throat, silently reminding me of why we are here.
“Mila, Vik,” I say. “There’s something I need to tell you. Mikhail and I are … getting married.”
Mila gasps and claps her hands together. “That’s wonderful.”
All the color drains from Vik’s face. “That’s …”
“And I’m moving to Russia to be with him.”
Now, it’s Mila’s turn to look horrified. “What? You can’t leave!”
“I’m sorry.” Tears sting my eyes. “But it’s what Mikhail wants.”
Mila turns to him. “Can’t she stay here? Can’t you live here?”
“I’m afraid not,” he tells her. “My business is in Russia, so that’s where Sofiya and I will live.”
“I’ll miss you,” Mila sobs, hugging me. I hold her back tightly. This is what I was afraid of—leaving behind my baby sister to the likes of Boris. She’ll truly be on her own now.
“Mikhail,” I say over the top of Mila’s head. “Can you give us a minute?”
He nods and leaves the room.
“It’s ok,” I whisper to Mila, hugging her tighter. “We can talk all the time. And I’m sure I can convince Mikhail to let you come and visit.”
“You better. I don’t know who I am without you.”
Vik rolls her eyes. “Stop being dramatic, Mila. It’s not like Sofiya is dying.”
“You don’t sound so upset over this,” I say to her, letting Mila go.
“That’s because I’m not. You got Mikhail. You win. But as long as you’re gone, that will give me a chance to find a husband of my own. A worthy one. And since you’ll be gone, you won’t be competition any longer. So, go to Russia. I don’t care.”
I sigh. “Vik, don’t be like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like this.” I wave my hand at her. “Petty. Let’s at least say goodbye on friendly terms.”
“How can I be friendly when you get to marry the man I want to marry?”
“Do you think I want to marry him?” I snap. “With a man like Mikhail, you don’t exactly get a choice. He chose me, Viktoriya. And now I have to leave my home and my family behind. You think I’m happy about this? I’m terrified. And you don’t care.”
For a moment, Vik’s eyes soften, but they quickly harden again. “Just say goodbye and get it over with. I’m tired of talking. I’m the one who’s in pain here, remember? I have a broken ankle, and you’re marrying the man I want. If anyone has the right to be upset, it’s me. I’m assuming you’ll call when you get to Russia?”
“Yes.”
“Then, fine. Bye. Have a nice trip.” She doesn’t mean any word of it.
I stare at my sister a moment longer before turning back to Mila. “Be safe. Be careful.”
“When am I not?” she asks with her large doe eyes.
“If Boris tries to get you alone, you run.”
Mila’s eyes widen. “What?”
“You heard me. Stay safe.” I look at Vik. “You have to keep her safe.”
“I always do,” Vik says.
With a smile for Mila and a nod at Vik, I leave the room and join Mikhail in the hallway.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
“Yes,” I tell him, even though I’m not ready at all.