Chapter 7 - Elisse #2
“I will not wear this. I will burn it if I have to, but I will die before wearing this.”
“You will.”
“No.”
“Elle.”
“Do not say my name from your mouth!” A part of me wanted to lash out and hit him.
It took everything in me to stay in control.
Instead, I ignored him and turned around, moving towards the door again.
As soon as I reached it, I yanked it open, but he was faster.
His hand closed around my wrist and pulled me back before I could even take two steps into the hall.
“Let me go!”
“No.”
“I will scream.”
“Do it.”
The challenge sliced through me.
“I will call my family, and they will come get me out of here.”
“You can’t.”
“My phone—”
“Is no longer with you.”
I froze. He had taken it. Of course he had. But the worst part of it all was how I hadn’t even realized how and when exactly he had done that. He had taken away the one thing I had to get out of here.
“You arrogant—”
I shoved at his chest, but he didn’t even budge, his solid frame still concrete.
“You cannot force me into this,” I hissed.
His voice dropped lower, “I can. Watch me.”
I saw it then. The steel beneath everything, and I immediately knew this was not a negotiation. It was a decision that he had already made.
“I hate you,” I said.
“Not yet.”
I slapped him then, the sound cracking through the room, making everyone present in the room flinch, but once again, he didn’t even move. His face turned slightly from the impact, then slowly returned to center as if it had been nothing.
“Get out,” I told the older man once again. “You'd better leave now.”
He hesitated, but Nikolai nodded once, and the man exited swiftly, closing the study door behind him. The other men also took their boxes except the one with the dress and exited the study, leaving us alone.
“You don’t understand what you’re doing,” I said, my voice shaking, not from weakness, but from the sheer scale of what he was attempting to do.
“I understand perfectly.”
“You are signing your own death warrant.”
“Possibly.”
“Why me?”
His eyes held mine, and even though he stayed silent, I could see the element of choice burning in them.
He was right when he said he knew exactly what he was doing.
The man standing before me was a calculated man who would never do something stupid without thinking about it again and again.
He had thought about this for a long time, and every conclusion had brought him here.
“Because this prevents war.”
“You think marrying me prevents war? How?” I had never been more confused.
“You will understand everything in time.” I simply stared at him.
“You are using me.”
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I am protecting you.”
“You don’t protect someone by imprisoning them.”
His expression didn’t soften.
“Marriage,” he said quietly, “is safer than captivity.”
The implication was clear: if I didn’t become his wife, he thought I would end up as someone else’s weapon, but that made zero sense to me.
“You think I will stand there and say my vows to you?” I scoffed, unable to prevent the tears that followed.
“Yes.”
“Under threat?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
A flicker of something that almost looked like amusement crossed his face. Or it might have been respect disguised as that. I was no longer sure.
“I do,” he said, and that unsettled me more than anything else.
“I will never forgive you,”
“I’m not asking you to.”
He stepped closer again, and this time, there was no heat in his gaze. Only inevitability.
“You have two choices,” he said calmly. “Marriage by consent or marriage by violence.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, my stomach dropping.
“It means,” he said evenly, “you walk down that aisle on your own feet. Or I carry you.”
The air left my lungs.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
The silence that followed was unbearable, so I calculated things in my head.
I could have screamed, but I didn’t have a phone, and no one was going to hear me.
There was nowhere to run, and I could not even fight him since he was clearly stronger.
My family was out of reach, and he had me cornered perfectly.
I had no other choice but to listen to him, no matter how barbaric his demands were.
“You are a monster,” I whispered.
“Possibly.”
I look at the dress again, my eyes filled with tears.
“You will regret this.”
“I already do.”
That surprised me, but it didn’t change anything. I closed my eyes, realizing how survival outweighed pride. At least for now. I didn’t have another choice.
“Fine. I’ll marry you. But understand this,” I continued, opening my eyes to meet his, “you may bind me legally, but you will never own me.”
“We’ll see.”
The ceremony was arranged in minutes, with a clinical, efficient sort of precision.
I refused to change into the dress, and he didn’t even force me.
The officiator returned, clearly having just been waiting outside, and the flowers were arranged around us like a mockery of romance.
I stood rigidly while he stood opposite me, unshaken and unmoved.
The officiator cleared his throat and began, “State your full name.”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Elisse Chernykh.” His eyes flickered, just slightly, making me wonder if he had already known who I was.
“State your full name.” It was his turn, and he waited for a beat.
“Fyodor Romanov.”
The name crashed into me like ice. Romanov. This was Ilana’s brother, and suddenly everything began to make sense.
“You—” I breathed, my eyes widening in horror. He had known from the very beginning who I was, and now I finally knew exactly who he was as well. The officiator continued, oblivious to the earthquake between us.
“Elisse Chernykh, do you—”
I barely heard the words. Romanov. Of course. Of course he was. I dragged my gaze back to his face.
“You planned this,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
The officiator prompted me again.
“Do you consent?”
Consent. The word tasted bitter in my mouth while I looked at Fyodor Romanov, blood in my eyes. His calculated eyes and controlled breathing told me everything I needed to know about him.
“You will regret binding yourself to me,” I said softly.
“Maybe,” he replied, still appearing unbothered.
The officiator waited as the room held its breath, and finally, I said the one word that sealed it all together and bound me to him and him to me. Forever.
“Yes.”
The vows continued in the same cold way, legal and irreversible, both of us repeating our own. Until now, the war between our families had felt distant to me, but suddenly, with this one act, it had become personal. And it had finally become mine.