7. Elena
7
Elena
"Are we being followed?" Marie’s small voice trembles as she clutches my hand, her wide eyes darting toward the shadows.
I force a smile, trying to mask the growing unease that’s been gnawing at me for days. How can I tell her the truth when I barely know it myself? I feel eyes on us constantly—whether it’s paranoia or reality, I can’t say. But how could I let her worry about the same dark fears that haunt me? She’s just a child. She’s only starting fifth grade, for God’s sake. She shouldn’t have to live with this constant fear.
"No, love." I squeeze her hand reassuringly. "We’re safe." I point to one of the guards stationed a few feet away, his presence solid, unwavering. "See him? He and the others are here to keep us safe."
"Because Dimitri told them to?" she asks, her voice full of curiosity. There’s a hint of wonder there too. To her, Dimitri is like a fairytale figure—this powerful, enigmatic man who has swooped in to change our lives in ways she doesn’t fully understand.
I nod. "Exactly. Because I’m his wife now. That means he’s also your brother-in-law."
"I have a brother?" she asks, her eyes wide, as though the idea is too grand to fully comprehend.
"You do," I tell her, my voice softening. "And today you’re starting your new school. It’s a lot fancier than the one you were at before."
"So I don’t have to see Katie Petrov anymore?" she asks, her lips twitching as she mentions the girl who tormented her at her old school.
"That’s right. No more stinky Katie Petrov." I scrunch up my nose dramatically, making a ridiculous face that sends Marie into a fit of laughter. The sound is like a balm to my soul, a brief moment of normalcy in a world that feels anything but.
Her laugh—it’s the only thing that’s felt real since our father died. Everything else has been a whirlwind of chaos. One moment we were living in the modest home Father had left us, and now we’re in this sprawling mansion with guards, horses, and a man I barely know. Marie has her own suite of rooms, she rides horses every day, swims in an indoor pool, and eats dinner with me and Dimitri. It’s a far cry from the life I could have given her.
But it’s not real. Not really. This life feels like a dream, one I’m afraid I’ll wake up from at any moment. We’ve been thrust into Dimitri’s world, into his protection, and while I know it’s better for Marie, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve lost control of everything.
Father is gone. The words echo in my mind, sharp and cruel. I’ve been running on autopilot, doing what I have to do to survive, but I still haven’t fully processed that he’s gone. That I’ll never see him again. And yet, I have to keep moving forward. I have to keep going for Marie’s sake. For my own.
But what about Dimitri? If I don’t give him what he wants—if I don’t give him me —he’ll ask for a divorce. I know he will. And then what? How will I keep Marie safe without him? How will I survive without his protection?
As we pull up to St. Joseph’s, I marvel at the grandeur of it all. The towering gates, the ivy-covered walls, the pristine uniforms of the children milling about the courtyard. Marie’s about to attend a school I never could have dreamed of sending her to. Another thing I could never have given her on my own.
The guards hang back, their presence a constant reminder of the new life we’ve stepped into. They hover like shadows as I walk Marie to the front door, their eyes scanning every corner, every passerby. They’re there to protect us, but their presence also serves as a reminder that danger is always lurking.
I’ve already registered Marie and spoken to her teachers. Everything is in place. Yet, as I say goodbye and watch her walk inside, I feel a hollowness settle into my chest. What do I do now? What am I supposed to be without her?
I could go back to the house and swim, or ride horses, or take a nap. But none of it sounds appealing. None of it feels like me . What I really want—what I crave—is to be with Dimitri. To understand him. To know what he does all day, what he thinks about, what drives him. Does he ever think of me beyond the confines of our marriage?
Will he ever love me?
It’s a foolish question, one I don’t even know why I’m asking. Love has no place here. This marriage isn’t about love—it’s about survival. But still, the thought lingers in my mind, like a spark waiting to catch fire. Does he feel anything for me? Or am I just another acquisition, another thing to possess and control?
Every night this week, he’s come to bed the same way—stripped down to his boxer briefs, his body radiating heat as he pulls me against him. He holds me the same way he did on our wedding night, his touch possessive yet patient. He tells me he’ll wait for me to feel better, but he won’t wait forever. His words are a promise, but they’re also a warning.
What does it mean that he’s waiting? What is he waiting for ? And why do I tremble every time he lays beside me, my body betraying the fear that courses through my veins?
I can feel him. Every night, his hardness presses against me, just a thin layer of fabric separating us. Two pieces of cloth are all that stand between us consummating this marriage, between me giving him what he wants. What I want.
Yes, I want him. That’s the truth of it. I’ve spent every night wondering what it would feel like to have him inside me, to feel him move against me, to hear his voice as he loses himself in me. What would it be like to have him claim me fully, to feel his lips trailing down my neck, closing over my nipple?
I’m scared, yes. But I’m also curious. Desperate, even. There’s a part of me that wants to ask him to keep going, even if I seem scared. I want him to push past the fear, to take me and fuck it right out of me.
But I hesitate. I’m not sure what to do. Should I ask him? Should I let him know that I want this even though I’m afraid? Or should I try harder to hide the fear, to stop the trembling, and let him have me without reservation?
One thing is certain—he won’t wait much longer. Dimitri will claim me. And when he does, I’ll have to be ready.
Because once that happens, there’s no going back.