Chapter 10 - Bianca
The whole process feels like a blur. I spend most of the night thinking over Aleksei’s proposal, and the fact that I even consider it—hurting my family for some petty revenge—is a fact that makes me sting with shame. I feel like a rat, willing to betray my own blood for a feeling of fleeting satisfaction, something so vile regardless of how poorly my father and stepmother treated me growing up.
The fact that I was locked into the room solidifies my decision, which dawns on me shortly after being shut in. I really have no choice in this, no matter how nicely Aleksei presents this to me—no matter the ‘benefits’ I might be reaping from this arrangement. It isn’t an arrangement at all—it is an order to be obedient to whatever he decides for me.
We enter the venue through a smaller entrance, which I assume isn’t the main one due to the sheer size of the building. Everything inside—even the corridor we walk down—screams opulence, the décor being all neutral beige and greys. I register where we are once we enter through the door, a kind but sharp looking older woman standing to welcome us. There are a few other people shuffling behind her to get the makeup supplies and gown ready.
Aleksei decides to stay in the changing room as I begin trying on the wedding dress works in my favor; his complete disregard for my preferences and privacy pushing me past the point of annoyance to being truly angry—I don’t have to expel any energy pretending the part.
I try to protest when he first insists, feeling irritation grow to impossible heights when Aleksei kicks everyone out of the room. The peak is when he literally zips me into the damn dress itself. It is so annoyingly beautiful, being a stark reminder of what little choice I have over all this—I don’t even have the option to choose my own fucking dress.
Once we leave the oppressive space of the changing room everything truly becomes a blur. I lose myself in the bright white and cream décor that is everywhere I turn, burning the color into the back of my retinas. I keep reminding myself: you can do it—for Giorgia’s safety .
I need to be here so Giorgia is safe. That sentence begins to feel like a mantra ever since the stint in the dressing room. She is my baby sister—my world—and no one besides me knows how truly fragile she is. I was there for her first steps, first words, and the times she fell over, needing a warm hug and someone to put a bandaid on her scratches that the outside world always left on her. I love her, that’s how I know she wouldn’t make it here. If there is anyone I’d have to push through this for, it will always be her.
Besides, all I have to do to keep sane is to keep reminding myself—reminding myself that it’s all just lies. Fabrications woven to get back at my father. Maybe I can take some kind of twisted pleasure in that, a small reclamation of my part in the grand scheme of things.
The venue we are at serves as a whiplash reminder of the predicament we find ourselves in. Not just me but all the few strangers we have as guests. The man officiating the ceremony looks old, eyes crinkling with practiced mirth as he goes through our vows. It feels quick and empty, just like I’d expected, followed by a short peck on the lips from Aleksei. The few guests—a few of them I recognize as the men who were there when I stitched Akim up, who is here too—look on with empty expressions, something akin to the face you’d make at an early Monday work meeting, still half asleep.
It passes by in a quick succession of events after that, Aleksei grabbing my hand to head over to the men that I recognize, by now assuming they must be related. Looking at them closer now, they all seem to resemble each other somewhat, despite each having a distinct look of their own. The serious-looking man with a severe expression on his face stares me down as we advance, and I feel a blush starting to spread over my cheeks as I remember our last unfortunate interaction. His almost white hair and severe blue eyes dig into me, focusing on the place where Aleksei’s hand forcefully intertwines with mine.
The second man, glimpses of who I only caught briefly that fateful night, is frowning at me. Somewhat offended, I feel like stirring up some drama.
“You’re delighted to see me.” I scoff at him, laughing as he rolls his eyes to look in another direction. He resembles Aleksei the most, sporting the same shade of chestnut brown hair, though his face is adorned with what were very clearly healing bruises. Charming .
I notice a third one approaching, realizing he’s the one I helped put back together. Akim , I remember. He has a large smile plastered on his face, which is infectious enough that I feel one appearing on my face, too. He looks much better now, his black hair freshly buzzed. Now that there is more color in his skin, the dark ink of the tattoos on his neck contrasts strongly with his tan skin.
“Glad to see you’re alive,” I say, genuinely meaning it. My efforts weren’t in vain, and at least one good thing came out of that cursed night.
“Glad to finally see you, too. Heard great things about you, heard you saved some man’s life. Crazy.” He laughs, and I return it.
Looking around us, I note Aleksei let go of my cramped hand, choosing to step a few paces back with the two other men, discussing what seemed to be important matters. Aleksei’s face is scrunched in concentration, looking to both the men at his side as he speaks in a hushed tone.
“Maksim is gone, as per usual, but it would be useful to have Nikolai here. Logistically speaking,” Aleksei continues, his voice fading into the ambiance of the chatter by the other guests and soft music that plays over the speakers. It doesn’t seem listening in to the conversation would yield any fruitful results for my strategy, so my head tuns back towards the young man standing next to me.
“But seriously, thank you. I owe you my life. If there’s anything you ever need done, consider it done.” He smiles, his smile reaching his eyes. Despite his intimidating appearance, he seems like my most likely ally out of the array of people here. I’m about to thank him when I feel a thick arm snake around my waist, squeezing. It transports me back into the sweaty mass of dancing people, where he squeezed my waist the same way.
I can feel my smile dropping as soon as it appears on my lips, replaced by a thin line of impatience.
“I hope you can forgive me Akim, I need my wife for a second.” He smiles a cold, icy smile, such a blatant overreaction to the nice moment we had with Akim a minute ago.
The moment Akim looks aside I find myself being dragged to the side, stumbling a few steps at first. Oh hell no, there is no way he can just do whatever he wants. I feel myself swell with humiliation, feeling like a rag doll that he just drags whenever he feels like it. He pushes aside a heavy curtain, probably concealing a door used by the staff. It’s well hidden but doesn’t do much in the way of soundproofing.
“What the hell was that?” I hiss the words at him, attempting to keep the volume down so we didn’t alert our guests to our less-than-ideal marital relationship.
He advances closer, that look of a predator cornering its prey reappearing again. If that’s his strategy to scare me into submission, then he has another thing coming for him once he realizes I’ll never bend the knee to him.
“Why,” he whispers. “Do you insist on trying to use my brothers to get to me?” The look on his face is quite serious, which in contrast to the utter stupidity of his question, makes me laugh at him.
“What? Are you hearing yourself? I was just talking to your brother. You’re being unnecessarily jealous of someone who got married for convenience.” He blinks, eyes becoming more hooded as he takes a step back, looking like I just poured boiling water all over him.
“Watch your mouth, darling. Is that what you were doing with Dmitri too? Just talking? You tried it with Dmitri and now with Akim—” I interject his unfounded tirade.
“Get away from me.” When he doesn’t make a move to step back, I push against his chest, feeling my anger growing at just how stable and unmoving he is. As if all my force does nothing in the slightest to him. I assume he’d leave after my little tantrum but find myself surprised when he grabs at my wrists instead, pulling me yet again, this time out from the cover of the thick curtains.
“What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” I quieten the moment we are exposed, guests staring at us with suspicious eyes. I don’t feel like involving all these strangers in our argument, so I try to force the corners of my lips to perk up, giving the bystanders a shy smile. An older woman we pass by, dressed impeccably for the occasion, narrows her eyes at me with an accusatory glare.
Once we make it out of the reception, Aleksei turns his head.
“We’re going home. The ceremony is done now and you cannot act so I deemed that the best option.”
Wow. What a gentleman. I surmise that the best strategy to choose now in response to his overwhelming childishness and unfounded possessiveness is to stay quiet. Not entertaining it is much more likely to cause aggravation than fighting back against false accusations.
I seat myself in the limousine, inching as far as humanely possible, considering the restrictive space of what seems to now be the smallest limousine. Every seat in the vehicle is much too close to Aleksei to my liking, and I wish to be anywhere but with him.
He is silent too, the only proof of his existence after turning so far I can’t even see him in my periphery being the steady inhale and exhale he lets in and out. Sometimes, falling asleep, I find myself illogically irritated at the tick-tock of the clock in my room. I don’t think—up until now—that a human breathing could have the same, if not worse, effect on me. Turns out I was wrong.
Before the vehicle comes to a halt, I find my face unexpectedly turning in his direction. It is a momentary lapse in my silent protest, but grants me a look at his smirking face, clearly amused at something. It makes me want to shout into the void to get my frustration out, though I know my frustrations would fall on unresponsive ears.
I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as the mansion I now know as my cage comes into view. In a sick turn of events, right now, it is exactly what I need—to get in and lock myself away from the living, breathing reminder of my captivity sitting next to me. A very handsome, hunky reminder.
When we enter the foyer, we barely make our way into the living room leading to the staircase when it happens. Everything turns dark, like there is no light, to begin with. I’m caught off guard, feeling a surge of all-consuming terror wash over me. Fear of the dark is something most people grow out of. I, on the other hand, never developed that resistance. The darkness feels all-consuming, swallowing all my senses and spitting them out into an incomprehensible mess. It’s a while before I register Aleksei’s voice, which had now grown soft.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos at me softly, and I feel his fingers rub my shoulders. “Come here. It’s probably just a power outage, you’ll be fine, darling.”
It’s then that I taste the salty stream of tears that accumulated on my lips. They felt hot and angry, demanding a path down my cheeks and jawline. Suddenly embarrassed, I pried myself away from Aleksei’s grasp, not wanting him to be close, while I hyperventilated over being in the dark. Like a child.
“It’s—it’s okay,” I hiccup, a fresh wave of tears already underway. “I just need to be alone—“
“It’s okay.” He coos again, this time embracing me fully. I burrow my face into him, feeling comforted by the lingering scent of the musky cologne on his shirt.
His hands continue to rub up and down my back, the gesture so comforting it catches me off guard. He continues his verbal affirmations, helping me slow my breathing until my tears subside completely.
Somewhat begrudgingly, I realize that his slow ascent and descent down my back causes a chill to run down my betraying body, a pool of heat beginning to form between my thighs. Fuck. It’s like a spirit takes over me then, finding myself to be a woman possessed rather than someone with all their logical capabilities intact.
I inch up, legs flexed fully as I stand on my tiptoes, taking a literal guess in the dark at where my target could be. I sigh as my lips find purchase on his. I kiss him then, still tasting the salty remnants of my tears. It’s him who deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue and wrestling with mine. Even now, we’re fighting, seeing who can dominate the other, win the eternal war raging since the moment we met.
The lack of sensory input means I felt everything, every brush of his hands against my body; his body on mine, his lips on mine, his rapid breathing. I feel him getting excited too, and I revel in the feeling of him needing this as much as I do.
He gets closer, deepening the kiss as he lowers the path of his hands, squeezing hard at my ass. It all feels like being transported back to where we first met, echoes of the deep thrum of the bass erasing the lines between memory and fantasy. Then the lights flicker.
It is much too bright, I shut my lids to dim the bright glow of the lights overhead burning into my retina. Aleksei hums in approval, maybe by my willingness to continue, not shrouded by the darkness and back in reality. It feels like confirmation to us both that we want to continue. Need to continue.
He separates his lips from mine, causing a whine to escape before I can help suppress it, but I am beyond caring. I look up to him pleadingly.
“Do you want to continue, darling?” He looks down at me, face serious. It feels like he is making sure, and in that moment, it makes me want him even more. I do want this.