Chapter Fourteen - Kiara
This has to be the world’s worst joke. Marriage? To a criminal like Akim? No. I can’t marry him. I’m only twenty-two years old, and I don’t want to marry him. Hyperventilating, I stare around the luxurious penthouse as I stay seated where Akim left me reeling from his sinister plan. This is pure torture. The man wants to keep me in his high-towered castle of horrors for all of eternity, tethered to him for life.
How can this be the punishment for what my father has done? Surely, they didn’t lose that much money that they need to do this. Knots twist up in my stomach as I keep staring into space. I can’t do this. Closing my eyes, I retrace the timeline of impulsiveness seeing where I went wrong. Maybe I could have come up with a different plan to get the Bratva to help my father out. It’s bizarre how loyal I am. I never, for one minute, thought about leaving my father in jail to do the time.
He never abandoned me, therefore I couldn’t abandon him. Ever. Calling my mother is not an option. Besides, they’ve hijacked my phone, and I can’t get a message to my father or Asher anymore. I’m desperate to speak to him, just to hear his voice and check if he’s okay. Even if I could speak to Emily, maybe she could get through to Akim via Ryurik and stop him.
I have to find a way out of this sick arrangement.
“You wait here,” Ramona commands. I peel myself off the couch, wanting to get blood flowing back to my head and eliminate the wooziness.
“It’s not as if I’m going to leave. I can’t anyway,” I remind her with contempt. She can help me escape, but she won’t. This truly is a luxury prison.
“You won’t want to leave after a while. You’ll see that everything will work out fine. Better than fine, dear.” Sucking in air, I stare at her in disbelief about to reply, but a stunning petite black-haired woman enters, her skin as white as snow, her features resembling a Russian version of Snow White with a group of others I’ve never seen before.
Overwhelmed by the sudden influx of people, I bristle at the three of them, terrified by what the woman’s presenting. I can see the taffeta ruffles and bulk of covered-up dresses as she approaches with her floral perfume.
She smiles broadly, holding out her slender hand to shake. After an awkward moment I shake it limply. “Hi.”
“Hi. No need to be shy. My name is Borisya and I’m Akim’s cousin,” she greets brightly. “I also happen to be a wedding dress designer. I’m so excited for the both of you, and it’s been a long time coming that the family has wanted to see Akim married.” Her sparkling blue eyes look me up and down as the workers with her unveil the dresses, laying them out in a line across the back of the couches.
Lost for words, all I can do is stare as each dress is prettier than the next. “We’re not getting married,” I deny, my voice hitching in my throat, a look of confusion riding over Borisya’s face.
“Don’t be silly. Of course you are. Otherwise Akim wouldn’t have given me the directive. Please, please take a long, hard look. You only get one chance to pick the wedding dress of your dreams, and you want to look beautiful on your radiant day. Is there anything you like?” I stare at her as if she’s crazy. She’s speaking to me as if Akim and I are really in love. Nothing about this arranged marriage is built on the foundation of love.
Staring at the dresses, I admire the beadwork and the intricate detailing on the variety of fabrics, including silk, feeling each one as Borisya’s burning eyes fixate on me. I feel as if I’m on some sort of illusionary stage. Even Ramona is watching from the corner, her eyes dewy and all romantic with the promise of a wedding in the Utkin household.
“I never thought it could happen for him,” I hear the brainwashed woman murmur repeatedly behind me.
“I don’t like any of them,” I lie with a pout. “These dresses are not for me.” Red-faced, I cross my arms not wanting to accept my fate as hot tears brim in my eyes. “I cannot marry a man like Akim. We’re not in love, and I’m nowhere near ready for marriage. I’m only young,” I choke out as the man in front of me ignores my wet face, dragging my hand to the expensive fabric to touch.
All the dresses look as if they’ve been created and cut out of fairy tale stories, and this is nothing but. The truth is, any one of these dresses I would dearly love to wear when the time is right, and with the right man who truly loves me.
Borisya’s warmth quickly turns to ice as she glares at me. “Leave us for a minute.” Her workers and Ramona scurry away as Borisya pats the couch prompting me to sit down. Wanting to hang on to as much of myself as possible, I stay standing and glare right back at her.
Despite me being taller than her, she rises to the challenge. “I said—sit,” she requests sharply. “I think you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
Reluctantly, I drop to the couch, pouting and feeling powerless about the situation. “What?” I snap.
She sighs deeply, giving me a warning glare. “Kiara. You have no idea what kind of trouble you’ve been lifted out of.”
“Maybe I don’t. But this can’t be the answer,” I fight back.
Borisya fingers the silk fabric of one of her dresses, lightly scoffing. “No. You don’t. And I’m not a lady to repeat myself.” Her eyes cut me to the quick, and that’s when I decide it’s in my best interest to listen up. She’s Akim’s cousin after all, and if she reports back to him, I’m done for. “Your father was in deep with the Bratva. He owes them a hell of a lot of money,” she whispers, her face open and expressive in its warning. I can feel her energy, and it’s scaring me. Not because she’s upset with me, but because of the deliberateness of her words. “Your life is in danger if you don’t pick this dress.”
A thunder strike of beats tap at my rib cage as fear radiates from her tiny body, her hand landing on top of mine. “Umm, okay,” I reply humbly. “How much does my father owe exactly?”
“Over twenty million dollars’ worth of weaponry was seized by the Chicago police. That doesn’t include the Pakhan—who is the head of the organization, having to call an emergency meeting to discuss it. Also, Akim has had to change routes and organize new drivers. I’m not going to go into further detail, but I’m guessing your father doesn’t have that type of money to pay back.”
“Shit,” I gasp in horror. “Twenty million dollars?”
“Yes. Twenty million, and then some,” Borisya quips dramatically, her pencil thin eyebrows raising. “And you are lucky. You don’t want to know the original plans the Bratva had for extracting money out of him. They’ve spared your father’s life. He would have been made to work under dangerous conditions, and if he didn’t get the money back, it’s likely they would have taken fingers and toes, and whatever else to prove their point.”
The pulse pounding gets worse as I press my eyes shut. “Shit. Okay, okay, okay, I get it,” I tell her, wanting the graphic visuals to stop. Would Akim do that? I do know he’s a Bratva boss, but I freeze-framed any thoughts of him being an executioner. I shouldn’t have. He did tell me he could have killed me if he wanted to. Easily.
“These are the Bratva rules, and they are absolute. Akim has chosen to marry you instead so your father’s debt can be completely forgiven. You should be grateful your father’s not going to be harmed.”
Shutting up, the gravity of my father’s misdeeds hits me hard enough for me to select a dress to wear. The intensity of the situation is real. These people are no joke.
“Okay. I’m going to go with this one.” I pick a luxurious crepe dress with center-back ruching, and a mermaid silhouette and open back. It’s stunning and if I’m going to be married off to Akim, maybe somewhere in my own world, I can pretend I’m marrying the right man and play pretend like I used to with my Ken and Barbie dolls.
“Yes! Perfect choice for your lovely body. This drapes so beautifully, and it was a favorite of mine to make. It spells minimal elegance and grace. I can tell even under all the baggy clothes you’re wearing that’s what you are.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, wanting to cry, but there’s no more tears left in the empty well. Only the sobering reality as Borisya calls her team back in along with Ramona who nods at her with a knowing exchange.
“Here.” Ramona passes on my cell phone to Borisya who passes it on to me. Puzzled, I stare at it not caring about it anymore. “Call your father.”
I pause, grateful to make the call, but willing myself not to break down on the phone. I’ve got to take this one for the team, because my father and I are the only team I want to play on. It’s just us and the Bratva will never, ever be my family regardless of what the poisoned paperwork says.
“Hi, Dad.” I smile down the phone.
“Kiara! Honey—oh honey, is that you?” he strains, the relief in his voice filtering down the line. What I wouldn’t give to hug him and feel the comfort of his embrace. He means the whole world to me, and Akim’s leaned in on my weak spot. And now I’ve got to sit here and lie to my father about marrying a monster to save him permanently, but the not-so-alarming truth is a hate is brewing inside me for Akim, and I’m scared it’s going to engulf me.
“Yes. It’s me, Dad. Are you okay?” I take a quick glance at the audience around me, my tongue dry. This isn’t a conversation I want to have with all these enemies around me, but I’m helpless to stop it.
“Yes. I’m fine, fine. I tell you what, it hasn’t been easy. I don’t know what Asher did to pull the strings he did, but boy, am I glad. I’ve been let out. I’m free. When are you coming home, sweety? Where are you?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath, as Borisya looks on. Akim didn’t tell him, I realize. Of course he wouldn’t tell my father he’s holding me captive. The phone grows hot against my ear, and I don’t know if it’s burning because of the secrets and betrayals, or because I’m being held hostage to treacherous lies. “Hey, Dad,” I say through the silent tears sliding down my cheeks. “I’m not coming home I’m afraid, but the good news is I’m getting married.” I chuckle awkwardly, swiping the tears with the sleeve of my hoodie.
“What? Huh? To who? I don’t—I don’t understand. Who are you marrying?”
“Akim.”
A thick pause hangs in the balance as I hold my ear close to the phone, biting my bottom lip so I don’t break down. I can’t. I have to do this, and there’s no other way anyway. “No. You’re not marrying that fucking guy. I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve done. I’ll regret it for the rest of my days. I was desperate back then and when your mother left, I-I wanted you to have a charmed life. Not struggle in Chicago. Sweety, this is my fault.”
More tears fall as I blow out a hard breath. “Dad. Stop. You did what you had to do, and I understand. You don’t need to explain.” I don’t want him to spill all our history in front of these snakes. Akim has cameras in the house, and probably audio. I hate that he knows, but I shouldn’t be surprised. He probably has some hidden file already on me that I’m not privy to.
“Honey if you’re in some sort of trouble with him, I’m willing to take the fall. Let me do it,” he pushes. “I’ll turn right back around and go to jail. I can’t let—” I stop the ramble of his words, wanting more than anything to tell him the truth.
“Dad. Hey, don’t worry about me. I’m okay really. I’ve developed a liking for Akim. He’s not such a bad guy.”
“Not such a bad guy?” My father shoots back in exasperation. “Kiara that’s not something you say if you’re about to marry somebody. You don’t sound right. You don’t know what these guys will do to you… stop this!” he shouts as I shake my head, hating myself for having to play the Bratva game, but I’m all out of cards to play, and this time I’ve got the losing hand.
“Please, Dad. Trust me. Akim is okay and I guess it didn’t come out right,” I lie, doing my best to convince him of the best. “Can you just walk me down the aisle? I really want you—I need you to be at the wedding. I’m picking out dresses as we speak. You gotta be there,” I reply, bile rising in my throat as Borisya nods in satisfaction of my acting skills.
“Kiara,” he sighs raggedly, running out of steam. “I don’t know what’s going on, or where you are, but if you’re going to be there, so am I. I’m your father, and I won’t let you walk down the aisle alone. Not with that guy. I’ve promised you that since you were little.” His voice cracks as I hold what’s left of myself together.
“Okay. Then we’re good. Thank you so much. I know the house might be empty without me there, but I love you. I have to go now.” Hanging up abruptly I let the cell phone slip out of my hands as my life slips down the drain.