Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
VIKTORIYA
I t’s official.
I’m getting married.
And I’m not looking forward to it one bit.
“What do you mean the wedding will happen tomorrow?” I ask Mikhail from my bed, where my body is still bruised. My rib is still cracked and won’t be healed for a couple of weeks.
“I need to get you married as soon as possible. I don’t want Gleb coming back and trying to hurt you again. So, for your own safety, the wedding will take place tomorrow. You already have the dress.” He glances toward the closet, where it hangs on the back of the door.
“But my face looks like this.” I point to the large bruise on my jaw and chin. “And my rib is still broken. I can barely move. You’re going to make me get married when I’m like this?”
“Yes.”
I huff, but that only ends up hurting my rib, and I clench my hands to my side to stop the pain. “You’re a cold asshole, you know that?”
“And you’re an ice queen. I’ve heard what people call you. You’re doing this, Viktoriya. It needs to happen for your safety.”
“Like you care about my safety. The only person you care about is Sofiya. If Gleb had stolen Sofiya away, you would have killed him already.”
“I let him go because I’m not looking to start fights where I don’t have to. It’s what has led me to being the leader I am today. I’m practical.”
“Emotionless.”
His lips barely move as he replies. “Nonetheless, this is happening. Aleksander will be waiting at the church tomorrow. Don’t think about running again.”
“You really think I could run in the state I’m in?”
“I don’t like you, Viktoriya, but you’re an impressive woman. I think you can do many things when you put your mind to it. So, I’m telling you not to run. For Sofiya’s sake. She was worried about you, and I don’t like to see my wife scared. Aleksander is a good man. He’ll protect you. As you know, this could all be worse.”
I flinch. He’s right. I do know how bad it can get. I just lived through it, and now, I’m a murderer because of it. I’m soaked in blood. I guess I really am a Bratva princess, after all.
“Can’t we at least wait for my bruise to heal?” I ask.
“No.” With that cold word, he leaves.
There’s no getting past this. Aleksander will become my husband. He’s not worthy of me any more than Gleb. I learned with Gleb and Akim that no man is worthy of me and never will be.
Aleksander will have his hands full with me. He thinks he can break me down. He thinks he can put me in my place.
But I’m a fighter, and I’m not going to stop fighting until I’m dead.
I somehow feel even worse the next day. My bruise has turned a horrible, ugly green and yellow. I try to cover it up with makeup, but it’s futile. There’s no covering what I went through.
Just standing is killing me. It’s hard to take in a deep breath with my broken rib, and it’s making me feel faint.
I stare at my wedding dress—the one Aleksander chose for me (how fucking ironic)—and wonder how I’m going to put it on. I can’t even lift my hands above my head. And I refuse to ask for help. I’m Viktoriya Morozova. I’m no weakling.
Gritting my teeth, I manage to take my pajamas off and slip the wedding dress up to my waist. But I can’t get the rest up. This dress is supposed to be regal, something fit for a queen.
Right now, the last thing I feel like is a queen.
I feel like a little girl who’s scared and broken trying to play dress up.
I’m ugly. My face is bruised. I can barely stand up straight from my broken rib. My ankle is still weak. And I’m not as thin as I should be if I want to dance again. I need to be better.
I can’t be broken.
Moving as fast as I can to the bathroom, I force myself to throw up. Instantly, I feel better. I feel in control. I can do this.
I will not be scared of this day. Aleksander will not have the satisfaction.
A knock on my door makes me scramble upright, which only makes me wince in pain. “Who is it?”
“It’s Sofiya.”
Of course, it is.
Stifling my sigh, I tell her to come in after I’ve rinsed my mouth out.
“Vik,” she says, eyeing my half-naked state. “Do you need help?” I start to answer, but she cuts me off. “Actually, I’m just going to help you. You’ll deny asking for help. Turn around.”
Grumbling under my breath, I do as she says. Within seconds, Sofiya has my dress zipped up and ready to go. “There. You look beautiful.”
“Have you seen my face?”
Her eyes tighten, but she keeps her smile plastered on. “I have. And you still look beautiful.”
“I’m getting married, Sofiya. I should look like a goddess today of all days. But instead, I look like a troll. And I don’t even want Aleksander, and yet I somehow care what he thinks of my appearance.” I hate myself for caring.
“I know this isn’t ideal, but I think it’s for the best. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Aleksander, but he came through. He saved you from evil men. I think he’s a good man. And Mikhail wants you married and taken care of. I want you married and taken care of,” she adds softly.
“I don’t want to be hurt again,” I admit.
“Oh, Vik. Neither do I. Mila doesn’t either. We live in a world ruled by men. The Bratva is a dark organization. The only way I’m safe right now is because of Mikhail. It’ll be the same with you and Aleksander. And besides, this way, you can continue to live in Moscow, and we can keep each other safe.”
I shudder. “I want to return to New York. I need to be ready to dance again.”
Sofiya eyes me with pity. “Vik, what if …”
“What if what?” I snap.
“What if you can never dance again? Your ankle is still healing. Now, you have a broken rib. You might never be able to return to dance.”
“Are you trying to make me feel worse?”
She sighs and sits on the bed. I sit beside her, not because I want to, but because my rib is killing me. “No. I’m just trying to get you to see things realistically. I never asked for Mikhail to enter my life, but he did. He wanted me, and he got what he wanted. I was terrified at first, but then we grew close. And now I can’t imagine my life without him. I gave up dance for him.”
“But you never loved it like I do.”
“You’re right. I never did. But, you know, Moscow has a huge ballet company. If you get better, you could easily become a dancer here. You don’t have to return to New York to dance.”
“But Moscow isn’t my home.”
“It wasn’t mine either, but now it is. I’m just trying to get you to be realistic. If you can dance again, you can dance here. And if you can’t dance ever again, you’ll still have Mila and me.”
“And apparently Aleksander,” I mutter.
She laughs and takes my hands in hers. “You need to put aside your pride and do what’s best for you.”
“You really think Aleksander is what’s best for me?”
“I think having someone to keep you safe is what’s best for you.”
I can’t exactly argue with that.
But I can’t do what Sofiya is suggesting. I can’t put aside my dreams for a man.
And I worry all Aleksander wants is to keep me under his thumb.
I’m not a woman who bows down to any man. What will happen to me when I’m married to a man who wants to make me kneel for him?
The wedding takes place in a grand, ornate church. Not what I would have chosen. I dreamed of having my wedding outside in a beautiful garden or at an elegant hotel. Not some gaudy church.
Sofiya and Mila help me out of the car, which is humiliating. I should be able to stand on my own. It feels like the entire world is trying to humble me.
“I’ll walk you down the aisle,” Mikhail says, giving me his arm. “You don’t have a father to do it, so it needs to be me.”
Begrudgingly, I take his arm and let him walk me inside. Mila and Sofiya go ahead and take their seats in the pews.
“So, I’m sure you’re glad to be selling me off,” I mutter.
Mikhail sighs. “I’m not going to argue with you right now. And I’m not selling you off. You’re marrying Aleksander.”
“It feels like the same thing.”
Shaking his head, he pushes the doors open. Before me is the grand church with a large group of people all in the pews. Vera and her friends are still here and have come to the wedding. I don’t remember inviting them. They’re going to judge my bruised face. It won’t matter if I explain what happened. They’ll find a way to blame me.
What happened to me was humiliating. I was literally sold to a man. None of this was supposed to happen.
None of this was supposed to happen to me . Other people? Fine. I don’t care. But me? My life was supposed to be perfect. All of this is far from perfect.
Aleksander waits for me at the end of the aisle, standing next to a priest in a very gaudy outfit. His smile is smug, which makes everything worse. He thinks he owns me now.
I’m marrying a man who grew up in the slums.
My father would be so disappointed.
I hear snickering as I walk down the aisle. Glancing to the left, I see Vera giggling with her friends. I could slap her. I’ve killed a man now. I’m capable of anything.
But I also know how to compose myself, and right now, I need to be the picture of perfection, even if everything else is falling apart.
I reach the end, and Mikhail hands me over to Aleksander as if he has the right to do it. It was my father’s right, but he’s gone now.
Aleksander takes my hand in his and makes me stand before him. “You’re wearing the dress I chose.”
“It was a beautiful dress. It had nothing to do with you.”
He doesn’t reply, but his smile says it all—he doesn’t believe me.
The ceremony takes place in Russian, so I’m completely at a loss. Aleksander guides me through it, and I hate being at his mercy. He’s the one with all the knowledge. He could use it to hurt me.
I’m barely hanging on by a thread. I can’t take another betrayal.
Soon, the ceremony ends. I don’t even have to say, “I do.” Aleksander and I don’t even kiss.
That’s something, at least. I think I would rather throw up again than let Aleksander put his lips on mine. His lips may look soft, but he is not kissable.
The guests follow us outside, where a limo waits for us.
“Come along, Viktoriya,” Aleksander says, drawing me closer to the limo. I know the moment I step foot inside it, my life is over. Aleksander will completely and fully own me.
I glance back over my shoulder and spot Vera laughing with her friends. I can’t look weak in front of her.
I march straight for the car when a rush of pain hits me. I double over, clutching my ribs. Vera’s laugh grows even louder.
“Viktoriya?” Aleksander asks in a softer voice. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
I can’t object. Speaking right now will hurt even more. He ushers me into the limo and slides in beside me. The driver starts the car and takes off, leaving our guests behind.
“You’re still hurt,” he states the obvious.
“It only happened a few days ago.”
“I know. But this was to keep you safe. You do look beautiful, by the way.”
“You must like me all beat up. Gives you some sick satisfaction.”
He slowly shakes his head. “Not at all.”
“What are you going to do to me when we’re alone? You already spanked me once. Are you going to do it again?”
“I spanked you for own benefit. I could tell you needed it. And no, I’m not going to do that again. Not while you’re in pain.”
“So, once I’m healed, then?”
His smile is dangerous. “Then, all bets are off.”
The reception is held in the party room of the Ritz-Carlton. It’s strange. This is where I stayed when I tried to run away, and Aleksander found me. There really is no escaping him now.
Our guests are already there when we show up. I refused to take pictures looking the way I do. Those can wait.
Our guests cheer when we enter the ballroom. It’s amazing how fast this wedding was put together. The power men like Mikhail and Aleksander wield means they can do almost anything.
Except show me the respect I deserve.
“We should have our first dance,” Aleksander says, gripping my hand. “It will be expected.”
“I can barely breathe, let alone dance.”
“Then I’ll hold you up.” He guides me onto the dance floor and pulls me into his arms. There’s a heat radiating from his body that is … enchanting, to say the least. I never noticed how good Aleksander smelled before.
No. I push that from my mind. I can’t think of Aleksander like that. I hate him, and I will always hate him.
“You never thanked me, by the way,” he says as we sway on our feet. I’m grateful he’s not making me waltz around the floor. I’m barely hanging on as it is.
“Thanked you for what?”
“For saving your life.”
“Mikhail was also there. I’m sure he did most of the work.”
His hands tighten just slightly on my waist. “No. I did. I was the one who found you. I was the one who shot the man intent on killing you.”
“Well, I killed the man who bought me and tried to rape me, so I guess I should be thanking myself then.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he replies. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I won’t tell you, ‘I told you so.’”
“You just did. So, it’s my fault for choosing Gleb, then? For not knowing how evil he was?”
“No, that was his fault. I just like to get you riled up. It’s amusing to me.”
“What do you want from me?” I ask. Every step to the side sends a sting of pain up my body, but I ignore it.
“You don’t bend easily. You’re a challenge. I like a challenge.”
“Clearly. So, you want to make me kneel before you like a trophy wife? You’ll have to think again, Aleksander, because that’s not happening.”
“I’m going to make you kneel because I think it’s what you need.”
“And what about what I think?”
He taps his fingers to my temple, and it sends a jolt of goosebumps over me. “I think you’re too in your head and need someone to help you get out of there.”
Before I can reply, he finishes the dance and steps away from me. “Now, I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
He holds his hand out to me, but I brush past it as I head for our table, keeping a grimace off my face. On the way there, I spot Vera and her friends again.
Fuck it.
I head straight for them.
“Viktoriya,” Aleksander warns.
I ignore him. “Hello, ladies,” I say as I reach their table. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“We were already here, so we thought we could come. Your brother-in-law invited us,” Vera tells me. “How’s the face, darling? Looks painful.”
“It is. Getting punched in the face will do that to you.”
She giggles. “Well, maybe you deserved it. You do tend to open your mouth when you shouldn’t. You really need to learn to be more like us.” The rest of her friends nod.
“You know, Vera.” I lean in close to her. She flinches and backs up, but I just move in even closer. “I just killed a man the other day. Because he thought he had the right to tell me what to do. Do you think you have that right?”
Her mouth gapes open, and nothing comes out. The other women look scandalized.
“I’ll answer for you,” I continue. “You don’t. You don’t have the right to make me feel bad. I could hurt you so easily. I could grab your face and smash it into this table. I know I’m capable of that now. What are you capable of?”
Still no answer.
I smile and stand back up, gritting my teeth against the pain in my side. “Don’t fucking mess with me,” I say. “I am Viktoriya Morozova. You will respect me.” I walk away with my head held high without giving Vera a chance to respond.
Aleksander watches me curiously as I take my seat beside him. “What was that about?”
“Just putting those women in their place. I can do that, too, you know.”
He smirks and takes a sip of his wine.
Vera leaves right away with her friends, giving me a small sense of satisfaction. At least I won't have to look at their judgmental faces the entire night.
But I’m not out of the woods yet. There’s still Aleksander to deal with.
“You are not touching me,” I tell him as we eat our dinner. Well, he eats. I just push my food around. “I know what happens on a wedding night, and I’m telling you now, that is not happening.”
“I would never dream of forcing you, Viktoriya. But you’re missing out.”
“I’m not missing out on anything.”
“Oh? So, you’ve had sex before? And you didn’t like it?”
I can't stop the flush from crossing my face. “No. I haven’t had sex. But?—”
“So, then, how do you know you won’t like it?”
I give him my best withering stare. “I know I won’t like it with you.”
“You won’t know unless you try.”
“And I’m not going to try. So, you’ll just have to go without sex for the rest of your life.”
“I can get it elsewhere.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re not cheating on me. You won’t disrespect me like that.”
“Viktoriya,” he says, taking my hand in his, even though I just told him not to touch me, “I have no intention of disrespecting you.” His eyes flick down to my full plate. “You’ve barely eaten anything. Nervous?”
I can’t tell him it’s because I need to lose weight to become a ballerina again. “This food isn’t to my liking. It’s disgusting.”
“What a shame. A beautiful woman like you with an attitude such as yours. You’re going to give yourself a heart attack one of these days from the sheer amount of stress you’re putting on your own shoulders.”
“You’re the one who makes me stressed.”
“Then how about we get out of here and go up to our room for the night? Nothing will happen,” he adds quickly. “We’ll just sleep.”
I look down at his hand covering my own. It doesn’t feel … bad. But I’m not still not going to give myself over to him. “Fine. I’m done with this party anyway.” I shove my plate away and stand up, barely containing my wince.
“I’ll help you upstairs,” he offers.
“I can walk on my own,” I snap.
I leave the ballroom and the rest of our guests as Aleksander follows me. Once we’re alone in the elevator, he leans close to my ear. “You need to start learning to accept help.”
“I don’t need any help. I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own.”
He doesn’t respond as the elevator doors open, and we head to our room. Our suite is grand and elegant, but I would expect nothing less. At least Aleksander got this right.
“I had them bring up our luggage for the night,” he explains. “I’m going to change.” And right before my eyes, he starts taking his clothes off.
I sputter and turn away.
“Scared to look?” he mocks.
“No. Disgusted to look. I don’t need to see your naked body.”
“You can look if you want. It’s ok, Viktoriya. I won’t mind.”
My curiosity wins, and I glance in his direction. He’s wearing sweats now, with no shirt.
I can admit he does look good shirtless.
But that’s it.
Nothing else about him is handsome.
“Like what you see?” he teases.
Immediately, I’m transported back into Akim’s room. Even though he wasn’t naked, he tried to make me naked. He tried to rape me. I was alone in a room with him, just like I’m alone in a room with Aleksander now.
My breath starts to come out in small pants. My vision is blackening at the edges.
Aleksander frowns. “Viktoriya?”
I need to feel better. I need to be better. I need to make my father proud of me.
I rush to the bathroom, ignoring the pain in my body, get down on my hands and knees, and force my fingers down my throat.
I throw up and feel the instant relief like always.
It’s only when I stop I realize Aleksander is watching me from the bathroom doorway.
“You made yourself throw up,” he states.
I wipe my mouth and stand up, wincing through the pain. I use the hotel’s toothbrush and quickly brush away the acidic taste of the vomit. “I didn’t make myself throw up,” I say after spitting out the toothpaste. “It was just from … nerves.”
“I thought you didn’t get nervous.”
“Well, I guess I do.” I can’t look in his direction. I can’t have him see my shame.
“You made yourself throw up, Viktoriya,” he repeats. “I saw it. You shoved your fingers down your throat and made yourself throw up. And tonight, you barely ate anything. Just a few bites. Do you have an eating disorder?”
“No,” I snap. “No, I don’t. I’m fine. I’m perfect, is what I am.”
“Mmm. I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen.” He places his fingers under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I am going to order room service, and you’re going to eat every last bite, and when you’re done, you will not throw it up. Is that understood?”
I want to object. I want to snap at him that he doesn’t get the right to tell me what to do.
But …
His words make me feel better. He’s giving me permission to eat. Celine, my dance instructor, didn’t want me to eat. My own father judged me for eating.
Not Aleksander. He wants me to eat. He’s seen the thing I’ve kept hidden, and he’s not blaming me for it.
I have pride. A lot of it. But I also carry a weight that’s slowly killing me.
So, instead of arguing with him, I answer honestly.
“I understand.”