Chapter 11 Hailey
HAILEY
The next morning, Rafail leaves early, dressed in his customary suit, this time with a proper tie and even some sort of patterned silk thing beneath his jacket. Everything in shades of black, of course.
“Very goth,” I tease him as he leaves.
“Get dressed, smartass.” He swats me on the bottom, rather ineffectively with the fluffy bathrobe in the way. “I’ll see you at the church.”
I was surprised that he didn’t want to drive together, but Rafail has a superstitious streak.
I’m learning that this is common among bratva.
Apart from giving a picture of me in my sweet sixteen gown to a dressmaker and asking for a copy in white, he hasn’t actually looked at the wedding dress he had made for me.
He claims he was only looking at me when I discovered it hanging in the closet.
I cannot believe I just lost my virginity to my ex-stepbrother. I don’t even feel the slightest bit bad about it. I’m sore in places I didn’t know existed yesterday. My thighs are still red from his stubble. I run my fingertips along them wonderingly before putting on the lingerie he left for me.
That was unquestionably spectacular, memorable sex. Who wouldn’t want that experience for their first time?
Yet I can’t shake my misgivings. Before Rafail left, I had flicked on the TV while getting ready, changing channels just to see if anything grabbed me. Nothing did until my face flashed onto the screen.
“Police are searching for Lila Davis, a twenty-one-year-old bartender in downtown Baltimore,” said the news anchor. “She was reported missing when she did not appear at work this afternoon. If you have any information, please call—”
Rafail took the remote from my hand and clicked it off before the anchor could recite the number to call. Not that I would. I don’t have a phone. He smashed it when he grabbed me in that parking garage.
Sudden unease grips me as I zip up the wedding dress. What am I doing? He is not a good man.
A gray-hared, petite woman named Ludmila and two scowly men in suits are the only people to see me when I emerge from the bedroom in my wedding gown, having done my own hair and makeup. She indicates her approval and points to the door.
“This way, miss,” one of the two guards says in heavily accented Russian. Andrei and Valerian. I can’t remember which is which. One of them is Rafail’s second-in-command. The other is his bookkeeper. Both of them look like they could strangle a man with their bare hands.
Ludmila helps me get into the huge SUV without messing up my dress. The language barrier prevents me from learning anything more than her role as Rafail’s housekeeper. During the short drive to the church, my misgivings mushroom.
By the time Rafail’s guard opens the car door for me, I’m consumed with doubts.
The sunny morning reminds me that I once had ambitions beyond riding my ex-stepbrother’s cock.
I wanted a family, but I swore I’d never get involved with the mafia after what happened to Dmitri and my mother. What am I doing?
How can I possibly bring a child into this?
I press one palm over my stomach. In the other, my bouquet of pale-pink chrysanthemums and roses lists drunkenly to one side. I stare up at the red brick building in disbelief.
I could run. Granted, I might not get very far in these high heels, but at least I could say I tried to escape.
I could turn him down. Say no when I get to the altar. But I promised not to do that to him.
“This way, miss.” Rafail’s guard takes my elbow.
Stepping into the church is an out-of-body experience.
Everything is gold and ornate. I remember Dmitri was vaguely religious but considering he and Mom got married by an Elvis impersonator at a drive-through chapel in Vegas, I never had the impression that he was particularly devout.
More to the point, this isn’t my religion.
Seeing Rafail standing at the altar, I realize this means a lot to him. Suddenly, it all feels too heavy. Marrying a man I hardly know. Despite our shared history, we’re essentially strangers.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper. Ludmila doesn’t appear to understand me. She fusses with my veil. Music swells, and she points me down the aisle. I look at Rafail, then at the door behind me.
What should I do?