Chapter 1 #2
An incredibly, soul-achingly, disarmingly, handsome man, who’s currently studying all the stuffed animals I have on my bed.
It’s only three. The giraffe Mr. Stuffy, the elephant Miss Crystal, and last but not least, my teddy bear Chester.
I’ve cherished these animals for years. I’m not ready to let them go even though I know an adult probably shouldn’t have stuffed animals on her bed and yet, I don’t care.
No one other than my family has been inside my room to judge me before.
But with this strange man inside my room, I care now.
“Who are you?” I gasp on instinct.
The man takes his time looking away from my stuffed animals and lands his eyes onto me.
I’m struck by how blue his eyes are. They’re in stark contrast to his black hair and stubble.
A classic strong jaw. He looks more like a movie star than a mafia man because that’s what he is: a mafia man.
It’s obvious to me. From his suit to the way he’s standing in my room – like he owns it.
Like he already owns me.
“Dimitri Ivanov,” he says in a deep, handsome voice. Everything about him screams perfectly handsome. Almost too much so. “And you must be Sofiya.”
“I… am?”
“Is that a question?”
“No.” I clear my throat. The sudden nerves inside of me are making it hard to think. “Yes. I’m Sofiya. I didn’t realize you would be in my… room.”
“I was curious about the young woman I am to marry. A person’s room is a good indicator of who they are. And your room tells me a lot.”
“What does it tell you?” My eyes flick to the stuffed animals and a blush creeps across my face.
“It tells me that you’re young. Sheltered. Still innocent. I’ve never encountered a grown woman with stuffed animals on her bed.”
“Is that a problem?”
He gives me a steady look that makes me feel like I could fall right back into the floor. “I never said it was a problem. Just an observation.”
“I’ve had them since I was a child. They bring me comfort. That’s all.”
“Understandable. People like things that bring them comfort. I’m afraid to say though, that after we’re married, I’m not sure how much comfort you will get from me. I’m not exactly a comforting man.”
I swallow hard. “What does that mean… exactly?” I still haven’t moved from my spot in the doorway, even though it’s my room. Yet, with Dimitri inside of it, I don’t feel like I own my room any longer.
“It means what it means.” He approaches me and I find that I can’t even move if I even wanted to. Do I want to? Dimitri has my brain all scrambled. “You have a lovely blush.”
As if on cue, I blush harder. No man has ever spoken to me this way. My father never allowed it.
“You are more beautiful than your father let on. He’s doing you a disservice.”
“What… did he say?” I lick my suddenly dry lips. Dimitri’s eyes flick straight down to them. I don’t even know how to feel.
“He said that you are pretty with long brown hair and pretty brown eyes. But what he didn’t say is how stunning you are exactly. Even in those horrid overalls.”
My hand moves over my stomach as if that can protect my overalls from him but I get the sense that nothing I could do would protect myself from him.
“I was gardening,” I explain. “I didn’t want to dirty my clothes so…”
“So explains the outfit. Good to know. I was worried for a moment that this is how you like to dress. What do you normally wear when you’re not gardening?”
I motion towards my closet. “It’s all in there.”
With a smirk, he goes into my closet, leaving me feeling breathless. Now that he’s not directly in front of me, I can think more clearly.
Slowly, I follow after him, though I make a point of staying at the entrance to my walk-in closet. Being alone with Dimitri feels… dangerous. Tempting. Taboo.
Even though he’s going to be my husband.
My husband. The thought hits me right here and now. This man is going to be my husband and I’m going to be his wife, even though we’re strangers. Even though I know nothing about him and the little bit I’ve heard hasn’t been good.
He critically looks over my clothes from my shirts and dresses and skirts and pants.
I have a little bit of everything. My style is more bohemian even though my father wishes I was more preppy and elite.
Most of my pants are high-waisted and flare out around my ankles.
The dresses and skirts are all billowy. Everything is in bright colors.
“I never thought I would marry a woman with your sense of.. style.” He says the word like it’s a bad one.
“What’s wrong with it?”
He flicks his eyes onto me and the power behind them roots me in place. “There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just so… free spirited. I thought you would be more closed off. More put together.”
“Well, I do have some outfits that fit that.” I motion towards a portion of the closet that is more straight-laced jackets and pencil skirts. The type of clothing I have to wear whenever I attend a mafia ladies’ function with my mother. None of the women would approve of my style otherwise.
But when I’m at home, I like to dress how I want to dress.
“I’ll wear what you want me to wear,” I say. He raises his eyebrows, clearly in surprise. “I’m used to doing it. But… I want to keep my clothes after we’re married. I want to still be… me.”
His eyes soften just the tiniest bit which shocks me.
From everything I’ve heard of this man, softness is not a part of him.
“That’s fine. As long as you look presentable when you need to.
you can wear what you want. And… I don’t mind your fashion sense.
There’s a sense of whimsy about it. It’s not boring to say the least.” He walks past me out of the closet.
Our chests brush against each other and the sudden contact makes me stumble back and bump into the wall.
“Careful,” he says.
“Sorry,” I squeak out.
He tilts his head, studying me before he places his finger under my chin, raising my eyes to meet his. “You are a polite young woman. That much is obvious. I like that in a woman.”
My lips part but no sound comes out. What is there for me to say?
“But,” he says, dropping his hand, “you should know that I expect perfection. I expect my wife to be fully dedicated to me. Devoted to me. Broken for me.”
I shiver. What does he mean by that? I’m too afraid to ask.
“Can you do that for me, Sofiya? Can you be the wife I want you to be?”
“Are the rumors true?” I whisper. “Are you a bad man?”
“Yes. I’m not a good man. And I will never claim to be.
But I will offer you protection from outside forces that would hurt you.
I will provide you with a life of luxury.
I will be a strong husband, who will never cheat on you.
I have no desire to be with another woman anyway.
There’s just something about you that I find fascinating. ”
But will you hurt me? I want to ask but don’t. Dimitri has made it clear he’s going to be a sturdy husband. But will he be a kind one? I doubt it.
He wants me broken? I’m desperate to ask but fear keeps my throat closed.
“Ah, there you are,” my father’s voice cuts through my moment with Dimitri.
I try to back away further but the wall behind me prevents that.
“What are you doing in my daughter’s room?
” There’s a hard edge to his voice. Even though Dimitri is going to be my husband, my father still doesn’t want me alone with him until after the wedding.
“I just wanted to see how my future bride lives. I’ve learned quite a bit in a short amount of time. You have a lovely daughter, Ivan.”
My dad gives me a warm smile. “Yes. Sofiya is a wonderful woman. You won’t be disappointed with her.”
Dimitri’s eyes are somehow both cold and full of fire at the same time. “No. I don’t think I will be.”
My father and Dimitri go to his study to discuss business and marriage plans while I change into a flowy skirt and blue crop-top that compliments my skin well.
I find my mom, Polina Smirnov, pacing around the kitchen.
She doesn’t even cook and yet she’s always in the kitchen.
I think she just likes to pretend that she’s a housewife when we all know this house has a maid and a chef to keep things running.
“Mom?” I say. “Are you ok?”
“I’m just worried.” She wrings her hands together. A nervous habit that I’ve picked up from her.
“Worried about Dimitri? Me?”
“Of course. You’re my daughter. I don’t want you married to a man who will hurt you.”
My chest constricts. “Hurt me? You think Dimitri will hurt me?”
Break me. He wants me broken. Whatever that means.
“Yes.”
“Why do you think that?”
She finally stops pacing and looks me square in the eye. “Because I’ve heard the rumors. The one about his sister, who he keeps locked away in a dungeon.”
A part of me wants to laugh at how absurd that sounds but another part of me knows there could be some truth to what my mom just said. “Who told you that?”
“The other mafia wives. They all think Dimitri is keeping his sister locked up. No one has seen her in years. Not since she was a little girl. She’s either locked away like a prisoner or…”
“Or?”
“Or he murdered her.”
I suck in a breath. “Does Dad know about this?”
“Yes.”
“And he still wants to marry me to Dimitri?”
“Your father doesn’t believe any of the rumors.
But I believe them and I’m worried that they’re all true.
That he’s going to seriously hurt you. But it doesn’t matter what I say to your father.
He has his heart set on you marrying Dimitri and there’s nothing I can do about it.
This is happening. Sofiya, my darling, I’m so sorry.
” She pulls me into a warm, fierce hug. If there’s anything my mom has been good at, it’s giving hugs.
I could stay in her arms forever but the sound of male voices behind us make us break apart.
My father and Dimitri enter the kitchen. I can’t quite look Dimitri in the eye. The power that exudes from him is too much to handle. How will I handle being married to him then? When I have to be completely alone with him? When I have to have children with him?
He is a handsome man. That’s not a problem.
It’s everything else.
But it could all be rumors. No truth to it. God, I hope there is no truth to any of it.
“You will be married at the end of the month,” Dad tells me. “Everything is planned and in order.”
Dimitri takes my hand in his. “I look forward to marrying you.” He kisses the back of my hand. It should feel romantic but instead, it feels like a contract where I just sold my soul to the devil.
I don’t get to see Dimitri during the month. In that time, I find a wedding dress – off the shoulder, flowy with elements of flowers to it that make me feel like a wood nymph. Everything else is organized – the food, venue, guests – by the wedding planner Dimitri hired.
I don’t even get a say in my own wedding. Already, he’s taking control of me and I’m powerless to stop it.
The month passes by way too fast and then I’m at the church where I’ll marry Dimitri.
And then I’m walking down the aisle without even realizing it, my father holding me upright.
And then my hand is in Dimitri’s and I’m standing before him at the altar, ready to be married to him.
But am I ready? I still haven’t gotten answers to the rumors about his sister or how dangerous he truly is.
I just know what he told me: that he is not a good man. So even Dimitri can’t defend himself.
Am I marrying a man or the devil? I won’t truly know until after we’re married and by then, it will be too late. I’ll be his.
“Do you,” the priest asks, “Dimitri Ivanov, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Dimitri holds my hands steady, making it clear I can’t run away. But I know my duty. I’m here to do my duty.
“I do,” he says in his steady voice.
“And do you, Sofiya Smirnov, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
This is the moment of truth. The moment I give myself over to a man I know nothing about. Who could be the devil.
Despite this, I still say the words because it’s what’s expected of me.
“I do.”