Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sasha
I don’t know what scares me more. Marrying Ryker or allowing him to see the real me.
Even my father found my peculiarities trying and he made it absolutely clear that I was his least favorite child.
The same traits that made me easy to control also made him treat me with complete disdain.
It wasn’t just my lack of strength, it was the way my fears seemed to overwhelm me. Like right now.
It isn’t that I shouldn’t be afraid.
Ryker is the kind of man that could make any sane woman tremble in fear. He’s made it clear that what he wants is something from me.
What I cannot do is let my anxiety get in the way of what I want. Freedom.
If I can just control the fear, I can figure out what he wants and figure out how I can untie this knot.
Granted, marriage is a pretty big knot. Then again, I don’t plan to leave Vegas as Sasha. I’ve still got the passports stashed under my mattress and none of those women are married to a conniving billionaire.
His hand is firm around my waist as the pastor’s words float past my ears, none of them sticking.
It’s always been this way. I’m lost in my own thoughts, and I can’t attend a word of what’s being said.
Until we have to begin saying vows.
“I promise to love, honor, and cherish…” Ryker’s deep baritone pulls me from the place I’d retreated deep inside, and I find myself focusing on him. I tip my head to look into his eyes.
At least, in this moment, they don’t have that deep black look that never fails to frighten me.
But I can’t be fooled. And I can’t allow him to see how much he affects me. My whole life, I’ve been controlled by hard men and I just need…
A bit of room to breathe and to just be. Find myself. Feel safe.
Maybe if I could have a moment where it wasn’t a crisis, I could learn how to live without the constant worry that makes me raw.
But I’m so far from that right now, being held by a man who has promised revenge, being tied to him.
When my turn comes to repeat the vows, I can hardly get out the words. “Honor. Cherish.” Can anyone even hear me? Does it matter?
But the last words rock me. “Until death do us part.”
I tremble as they leave my mouth. I am making a vow. One that is the very opposite of everything I want.
What I know I need.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you, husband and wife.”
Ryker bends down then, his lips brushing over mine. They are strong but soft, warm and filled with purpose. It shocks me how pleasant his mouth is, how… generous.
I don’t kiss him back.
I’m too stunned.
Katarina would snort with derision at my naiveite, but it had not occurred to me, until right this moment, that being married would mean being physical.
I’ve never been with a man before and I…
I stare up at him, my eyes wide.
It’s not that he’s unattractive.
But I know I’m particularly sensitive and every part of this man is rough.
I feel my knees wobble, but he seems to notice, and his hand remains tight around my waist as we face the small crowd, a demure clap filling the church before Ryker is half carrying me down the aisle.
I kind of appreciate this move. I can hardly move in this dress.
But as we step outside onto the church steps, the sun blazing down on us, I realize I’m going to have to talk to his family.
Do they know our marriage is a farce? That Ryker has blackmailed me into being his bride?
I feel myself go numb. I’m terrible at lying like that.
But Ryker and I don’t have a moment for me to ask before Dimitri appears, his face black, as he carries Anna in his arms, his hand laced with Ava’s. “Congratulations,” he rumbles, sounding pissed off.
I cock my head. I don’t trust my brother. He’s got his own agenda here in Vegas. But for the first time I wonder if he holds some kind of affection for me.
Maybe?
He moves on, Ava hugging me, looking really worried, before the Smiths start filing by. Most of them politely congratulating me before slapping Ryker on the back.
I only half pay attention.
I have no idea what comes next, but I know it’s nothing good.
A limousine pulls up, long enough that the entire array of guests can pile in. They do, Ryker and I getting in last, which is a good thing considering I can hardly move in this dress.
I look down at the ill-fitted gown and draw in a ragged breath. It’s like everything else about this day. It’s wrong for me.
All wrong.
There’s enough room for Ryker and myself, but I’m pressed against his side. I try to stiffen away, but I’m only so successful.
We wind from the Vegas chapel into a swanky neighborhood with gated houses. Naturally, we pull up to the largest, the iron gates swinging open as the car pulls in.
Around me, the car is filled with chatter, but I don’t participate, don’t listen as I sit in silence assessing the large house with the perfectly manicured lawn. “Where are we?” I ask my…husband.
“Triston’s home. Smith central here in the states,” Ryker says back.
How telling is it that I didn’t even know where the reception was being held.
I don’t ask more as the car pulls up to the portico, the door to my right opening. Gathering up the skirts, I do my best to step out with some semblance of grace and then wait.
It’s not like I can enter the house. I don’t even know the person it belongs to. Not really.
The sheer ridiculousness of all this overwhelms me again and I find myself pressing my hands into my stomach even as Ryker’s hand comes to my back. “Let’s get inside, sweetheart, and out of the heat.”
Calling me his love is one thing. It’s just one of those terms Brits use. But I am not his sweetheart.
I’m the woman he blackmailed into marriage.
I start up the stairs, attempting to manage the dress. He bends down and picks up the hem, holding it in his hand again.
It might seem chivalrous if I didn’t know he’s the reason that I had to wear a wedding gown that wasn’t mine.
Inside, the two-story entry with marble floors leads to a grand stairwell, a ballroom visible to the left. Who has a ballroom?
My father had a large and very formal home, and yet, it paled in comparison to this.
But rather than enter the formal space, we move to the back of the house, through a living area in the back and out to a sunporch of sorts with large windows and beautiful plants arranged all about the room.
Ryker leads me to a small table at the back of the room that’s centered, so that all the other tables look upon it.
“Would you like to sit?” he asks, even as he pulls out a chair.
I don’t really think he’s asking, which is why I don’t bother answering. What I’d like to do is disappear. Fat chance.
I take the chair, sighing with relief that I don’t have to move in this dress.
But my relief is short-lived.
Soon, the guests are milling about us, talking and laughing as though this is a real wedding celebration.
As though I haven’t been trapped into a marriage by a man who scares the crap out of me.
Ava catches my eyes, her brows lifting in question. I look away. I wish I knew I could trust her but I’m so completely alone…
I don’t even realize I’m doing it, but I start tapping on my own knee, trying to calm the swirl of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me.
Ryker looks back at me, and then turns, leaning down.
I cringe, unable to hide my reaction.
My father hated when I tapped. It was some physical reminder of my inability to control my emotions.
On more than one occasion, when he caught me, he’d give me a stiff backhand. I cringe now, half expecting the same treatment from Ryker.
Instead, his hand covers mine, squatting next to me. Lightly, his fingers start tapping the same pattern.
I stare him in complete shock. “How…”
“You think I didn’t know?” he asks, his brows lifting.
I blink away my surprise. “You know that I tap to keep from being overwhelmed?”
“I noticed. Yes.” He keeps lightly tapping on my knee. “Just like I know you want out of this life. If you can hang in there with me for a bit, I promise, we’ll both get what we want.”
I stare at him in complete shock.
He can’t mean those words.
Can he?
He keeps tapping, my nervous system slowly calming. And when I’ve relaxed back in the chair, he leans closer. “We’ll talk more tonight, but for right now, we’ve got a few final documents to sign.”
“Documents?” I ask, my brow furrowing. “What kind of documents?”
“Dimitri will explain more. But they are the contract of what you receive for taking part in this marriage.”
“I thought I was here for protection?” I say, knowing that was only part of why my brother married me off.
“You are. But why shouldn’t you also receive some financial gain for your trouble?”
“How much?” I ask, my breath catching. I had no idea this was part of the plan…
“A million,” he gives me a small smile still tapping on my leg in the most comforting way. “And once your father is no longer a threat to you, you and I will decide together if we’d like to terminate the relationship or not. And if you still want out, I’ll let you go with money in hand.”
My mouth drops open.
This is…
This might not be the biggest mistake of my life after all. “Why would you do this?” And why would Katarina have run if this was the arrangement?
Something didn’t quite make sense.
“I am here for your protection, Sasha.”
I give my head a small shake, like I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Because I don’t. None of this sounds right.
If Ryker’s been clear about one thing from the beginning, it’s that his plans for me have nothing to do with what I want or need.