Chapter 27
ALINA
" E verything is ready, and we are almost good to go. Alina, are you ready?" Samara's smile was bright and happy and everything I wished I was feeling.
This was not supposed to be how I felt on my wedding day.
It wasn't supposed to be happening like this.
"I–" I opened my suddenly parched mouth and tried to say something, anything.
The words wouldn't come.
Yelena peeked out of the wooden door into the sanctuary of the church.
I could hear people laughing, talking in a mix of English and Russian, but it all morphed together. It seemed to get louder and louder the longer she held the door open.
I was hidden away with Samara, Yelena, and my soon-to-be sisters-in-law in a side room where all the brides took a moment to gather themselves before walking down the aisle and pledging their life to the man they loved more than anything.
That was not why I was here.
I was here to pledge my life to a man that I didn't love, who didn't love me.
A man that I barely knew and who was holding me captive.
The same man who had come back to our hotel room last night with a long gash in his side that I had to stitch up before we sat in silence and ate, both of us thinking about the commitment we were to make today.
No, I pushed those thoughts away.
I had to do this.
This wasn't a choice.
My grandmother's life depended on it.
Pavel wasn't all bad.
Maybe if I could focus on the positive, I could calm down enough to take a full breath and get through this in one piece.
Just one full breath and I could compose myself and act like the bride everyone expected.
All I had to do was think of the good things Pavel had done.
He put my grandmother in a state-of-the-art facility that couldn't have been cheap. She adored it there and adored Pavel. He also used her life to keep me behaving.
He took care of my father's debt, but he also killed my father.
I wasn't sure if that went in the positive or negative column.
The sex was—nope. I couldn't go there .
The penthouse he kept me prisoner in was a lovely cage.
My chest squeezed harder.
This wasn't working.
" I–" I tried to say something again, but I couldn't take a full breath.
The small room felt suffocating, the scent of old wood and candle wax mixing with my panic. The wooden walls of the room felt like they were getting closer and closer, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.
I couldn't do this.
My lungs fought for air that seemed too thin, too sparse. I wasn't getting the oxygen I needed, anyway.
My hands were clenched by my sides to keep them from ripping at the delicate lace over my chest and around my throat. The pearls that one of the girls handed me—a wedding gift from Pavel—felt like a noose.
The girls saw something was wrong, and they hovered nearby trying to soothe me, rubbing my back and my arms, cooing sweet words, telling me it was natural to be nervous.
Everything was going to be fine. I was marrying a good man.
That last one almost made me laugh, and it just made everything worse.
Despite their gentle touches and soothing words, the panic only intensified.
"Just breathe," Nadia said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Breathe in, hold it for a few seconds and then breathe out. "
I tried to mimic what she was doing, but I just couldn't.
Marina, looking a little frightened, bolted from the room and a moment later she came back with Pavel in tow.
He had been waiting with his guests, taking their congratulations and well wishes while waiting for the lavish ceremony to start.
Why was he doing this?
Why not just drag me to a courthouse?
I just didn't understand.
Why did he have to pretend this was real, that we were in love and ready to ride off into the sunset together?
What did he gain from this?
Was it just another way to show me I had no choices?
Lying to a judge and signing a piece of paper was one thing, but I didn't think I could put on this performance in front of so many people.
How was I supposed to lie to God?
I couldn't do this.
The walls moved in faster, pressing into me.
An icy chill ran up my back, tightening around my throat as my entire body erupted in a cold sweat.
Pavel took one look at the dress and growled. "Everybody out. Now."
The women left without saying a word.
With fewer people surrounding me it should have been easier to breathe, but instead Pavel's large body and commanding presence sucked in all the air.
A look I had never seen on Pavel's face before crossed his stern features .
If I didn't know better, I would have said it was something close to anxiousness.
That couldn't have been it. Maybe I was misreading, and it was annoyance.
He closed the door behind him, and the second we were alone, I couldn't take it anymore.
I collapsed on my hands and my knees and started clawing at the bodice of the dress, gasping for air.
I couldn't breathe.
The room was spinning and no matter what I did, I felt like the air was being choked out of me.
Pavel didn't hesitate.
His arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me. He then sat me on the nearest table before he pulled out a knife from his back pocket and, in one swift motion, sliced through the dress.
He first cut the delicate lace around my throat, slicing the pearls too, and letting the precious beads fly across the floor. Then he sliced the side of the bodice so it was no longer squeezing my ribs.
The pressure eased and air rushed back into my lungs, and the panic shifted.
I could breathe, but tears started pouring down my face, ruining my once perfect makeup.
"I'm so sorry, I can't do this," I sobbed. " I can't do this. Please don't make me. I just can't."
I could hear the hysteria in my voice, but I couldn't make it stop.
The room was still spinning, and it felt like I was spiraling into a mess of chaotic fear and desperation.
" Moy kotyonochek ," he murmured. "Please, talk to me. "
His voice was soft and pleading, and it just made the tears come faster. "Please, I can't do this. There are too many people. They will know it's a lie. Please."
I expected him to insist in his usual gruff way.
He could have told me to get a grip, to control myself, or my grandmother would pay dearly for my disrespect.
He could have blamed me for the pearls now scattered all over the floor.
There were a thousand things I would have expected.
Pavel's lips pressed onto mine wasn’t one of them.
The shock of it stalled my panic just for a moment. My heartbeat slowed, only a fraction, and the icy chill turned into something warm.
His kiss was soft at first and soothed something deep inside me.
But when he pulled away, the familiar panic began creeping back, my breathing turning shallow again.
"Please." My body trembled as my fingers wrapped around the sharp edge of the counter so hard they ached.
He pried my fingers from the counter's edge and put them against his chest as he pressed his forehead to mine.
"You need strength, moy kotyonochek ? Take mine." He kissed me again, this time deeper.
As he pressed his tongue into my mouth, he held my hands to his chest, forcing me to feel his strength, his power, and letting me borrow from it.
Something shifted inside me as I felt his steady heartbeat beneath my palms, his unwavering presence anchoring me. The adrenaline still raced through my veins, but with a new purpose .
I wrapped my fingers around his lapels and held him closer to me as I melted into his kiss.
His hands moved down my arms to my sides, his fingers just gracing the skin that had been exposed when he cut the dress.
The kiss turned hot, desperate, and I needed more.
So did he.
His hands moved down to my thighs.
Finding the slit in the skirt, he pushed it aside.
My hands moved down his chest, over the buttons of his shirt, to the smooth, cold metal belt buckle.
It took me a moment to get it undone, but once I did, I slipped my hands in his pants and wrapped my fingers around the hard steel of his cock.
He sucked in a breath between his teeth.
" Moy kotyonochek ," he groaned before sliding my panties to the side to expose my wet cunt. "Hold on to me, let me center you."
He took his cock out of my hands and lined it up with my entrance.
I spread my legs wider for him, silently begging him to fuck me. I knew that if he was inside me, if he was taking me, then I wouldn't think of anything else.
While he was taking and giving me so much pleasure, the rest of the world would fade into nothing.
That was what I needed.
He was what I needed.
"Tell me you want me, tell me you want me to take you in the back of this church," he purred into my ear.
"No," I panted. "I need you. "
He pushed inside of me with one long, hard thrust and I tipped my head back, loving every second of the delicious stretch.
Once he was seated deep inside me, he stilled.
Looking deep into his eyes, I felt… complete.
He leaned down and kissed me with more gentleness than I thought he was capable of.
He touched me like he worshiped me as he pushed in and out of me slowly, like he needed to feel every inch of me, like I needed to feel him.
This wasn't the brutal, animalistic sex we usually had.
It was so much more.
He was using his body, his mouth, his cock to center me. He grounded me to him, and I was helpless to do anything but give in to him.
My body already responded to him with heat and need, and this felt deeper.
When he sealed his lips to mine again with a silent demand to give in to him, I did just that. I came with a muffled cry, and he followed me right over the abyss.
He didn't pull away.
He stayed with me, his arms around me, his cock inside me, linking us together as he kissed me while we both came down.
Then he cradled my face in his hands while looking deep into my eyes.
"Lust may not be love, but it's something, babygirl. You have no one in your corner. No one to care for you. No one to protect you. The people who should have protected you betrayed you. Now there is no one to shelter you from all the bullshit life throws at us. Let me be that man for you."
A fresh wave of tears tracked down my face.
"Let me be the man who will burn the world to the ground to keep you safe."
I took in a deep, shuddering breath then I whispered back to him, telling him my deepest fear.
"But we don't love each other. You're only marrying me to keep me from talking to the police. What happens when you tire of me? What happens when you find someone better? Who will protect me then?"
He exhaled, pressing a slow kiss to my forehead as he pulled me close, stroking my hair. Soothing me in a way I didn't know another person could.
"Trust me. That's not the only reason and I will never tire of you."
He didn't explain further.
Instead, he kissed me again while pulling out of me, then after tucking himself away, turned to storm to the door and open it just a crack, making sure no one could see me while I got myself together again.
"Tell all the guests to leave. Family only," he barked to someone outside.
I heard a muffled, "You got it, boss."
My panic flared again as I looked down at my destroyed wedding dress.
He had cut the delicate Italian lace.
The corset bodice was sliced and the slit in the leg was ripped clear up to my hip.
"You don't have to kill me," I muttered when Pavel returned to my side .
"Alina, you are going to be my wife, I?—"
"No, that's not what I mean." I gave him what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile. "Yelena will kill me for you when she sees what we've done to her beautiful dress."
Pavel shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
I loved that I was now warm and surrounded by his spicy scent.
"I'll block the first bullet," he said with a grin before scooping me into his arms and carrying me down the aisle.
The church felt different now—more intimate with only family present.
Candlelight flickered off the stained-glass windows, casting colored shadows across the wooden pews. His brothers and cousins sat on either side of the aisle.
Family.
It was strange to think there was literally no one here at my wedding for me.
No one except Pavel.
I had a pang of regret that my grandmother wasn’t here.
To his credit, Pavel had asked me if I wanted her here.
I’d said no.
At the time I told him I was worried about her dementia and disrupting the routine which was so important to keeping her calm and stable.
The real truth was I didn’t want her witnessing this.
No one said anything about him carrying me to the altar or the state of my makeup .
There was no judgment on any of their faces, and as we stood in front of the priest, I was starting to relax when, just as the ceremony was about to begin, a horrified voice cut through the church.
"What the fuck happened to my dress?"