Chapter 5
Five
Aria
I can't fucking stand him. This is the man my father wants me to marry? Really?
"Are you?" I quip.
Looking at him, there's no doubt he's handsome. His piercing blue eyes hold a hint of sadism. They glisten with an unsettling charm, drawing you in like a moth to a deadly flame. His sun-kissed golden hair is about as alluring as a charming prince to a princess.
Each strand seemingly placed with meticulous care, as if even the wind dared not disrupt its perfect arrangement. It frames his chiseled jawline, accentuating the sharp angles that give him an air of sophisticated danger.
Maxim might be sitting down, but his tall and imposing figure exudes confidence and power.
His tailored suit hugging his lean, muscular physique.
Every inch of him screams dominance, an aura that commands respect and submission in equal measure.
Most women would cream their panties if they were being married to a man like him, but not me.
I hate that this choice is being made for me.
I hate it much more than I'm actually letting on.
But beneath the surface of his undeniable beauty lies a darkness that sends shivers down my spine.
There is a palpable aura of malevolence that surrounds him, an aura that whispers of secrets and unspeakable desires.
His lips hold a perpetual smirk as if he knows something you don't and revels in keeping you at bay.
What should I expect, though? This is the man who will eventually inherit the Bratva. Of course, he's going to exude danger.
Yet, despite the tumultuous emotions he stirs within me, I know if I wasn't being forced to marry him, I might actually like him. He's cocky, and I hate it...but in another circumstance, I might find is amusing.
"Oh, you're a funny one. I might enjoy marrying you after all," Maxim cranes his neck to the right slightly and devilishly smirks at me.
"When would you like the wedding to take place?" My father asks Maxim's.
Ruslan takes a deep breath, "I'd like this to be secured within a month. Considering Maxim will be?—"
"One month?!" I interrupt, totally blown away.
"Aria, shut the hell up," My stepmother chastises me. "Ruslan, I am terribly sorry for my stepdaughter's lack of manners.
Ruslan waves off my stepmother's apology with an indulgent smile.
"No need to apologize, Tatiana. Aria seems to be about as spirited as her mother.
" His eyes twinkle with amusement as he addresses me directly.
"But don't worry, I'm not taking any offense to what Aria is saying.
Yes, the wedding will be within one month of today.
There is much to plan for, so I advise you to use your limited time wisely and plan the dream wedding you've always imagined. "
I grit my teeth, my emotions teetering on the edge of a precipice.
The thought of spending another second in Maxim's presence makes bile rise in my throat.
Yet, I know that objecting now would only fuel the fire of my father's determination.
There's no way I'll be able to get out of this marriage, and I know it.
As much as I try, it will be a waste of my time.
But, I realize something I didn't know before. Ruslan knows my mother. How? Did my father have her tag along with him to certain events?
"Very well," I reply through clenched teeth, forcing a smile onto my face. "If that's what you recommend."
My father and Ruslan exchange satisfied glances, as if they've just won a great victory.
Deep down, I know this is their way of not only keeping the Brazilian cartel leader happy, but they're also solidifying their hold over their respective territories.
An alliance forged in blood and vows, sealing their pact for power.
"There is something you don't yet know about your marriage, Aria."
I try to keep my cool, but it's getting harder and harder by the moment. "What would that be?"
"Maxim will be moving here to Chicago, this way you can still practice medicine. Your father informed me that you're very happy at the hospital, and we don't want to uproot your life completely."
In a way, I suppose I should be grateful...but I'm not.
A phone starts ringing and Ruslan answers, brings it up to his ear and speaks in fluent Russian. I pay close attention to Maxim's expression and the moment Ruslan hangs up he looks at my father, "I apologize, but I'm needed elsewhere. I will speak to you in the coming days,"
In a matter of minutes, Maxim and his father are leaving the house, and once they're both gone, the reality of what's really happening sinks in.
I'm marrying him, and there's no way I can get out of it.
* * *
The days pass by in a blur as I bury myself in my work, ignoring my father's calls and texts.
I know what I have to do, but there's no reason for me to rush.
I know I'm going to be cornered into situations where my proximity to Maxim is inevitable.
As they're eventually going to approach, I have no doubt I'll feel like walking a tightrope between desire and disdain.
I know why my father made this choice. It was made very clear when I met Maxim and his father.
But, in the back of my mind, I'm wondering how he could do this.
Am I really nothing but a bargaining chip for him?
Am I tool to be used when it's necessary?
That's what I feel like. I feel like something being used.
There is so much anger within me. It's so much that I feel like it's going to end up consuming me.
But amidst the anger, there is a spark of rebellion.
A fire that refuses to be extinguished, no matter how strong the storm rages.
I refuse to be reduced to a pawn in my father's game, a mere object to be bartered and traded for power and control.
I won't allow this to completely consume me, even if the weight of it all is so deafening. The one thing that can calm me down more than anything else is work, so that's where I've been spending a lot of time.
I made sure to visit every single one of my patients in the hospital today, even though I had a pretty packed morning with intakes. A couple of kids got to go home and are being discharged. They aren't cancer free, but they're stable enough to go home and be with their loved ones.
I'm finally sitting in my office, looking over the charts of the children who's test results I've been waiting on. There's one child specifically that I've been waiting for--Brandon.
Brandon is nine, he loves soccer, and his favorite food is chicken fingers. He has been fighting leukemia for five months now and we're trying our damndest to get him cancer free.
Some of his blood work isn't the best, but as I go through the results, they start to get worse. His platelets are depleted and his red blood cells are going down a little as well. Meanwhile, his white blood cell count is skyrocketing. "Fuck," I run a hand along my face and know what I need to do.
I call his mother's cell phone immediately and she quickly answers, "Brenda?"
"Yes, this is she."
"Hello, this is Dr. Zuyev from Mercy General. I have Brandon's blood test results,"
"Is everything okay, Doctor? What do the results show?" I can hear the panic in Brenda's voice as she responds.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my own nerves before delivering the news.
"I'm afraid Brandon's blood counts have taken a significant turn for the worse.
His platelets are dangerously low, and his white blood cell count is continuing to rise.
It seems his leukemia has become more aggressive.
I'm going to recommend you bring him in to get admitted.
If he's here I can keep a better eye on him, try to get his platelets up so he can get treatment next week on schedule. "
There's a long pause on the other end of the line, filled with a mix of shock and despair. Finally, Brenda manages to speak, her voice quivering, "What does that mean for him, Doctor? Is he going to die? Is there anything we can do?"
I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to give false hope or sugarcoat the situation.
I hate it when parents ask me if their child is going to die.
The cold, hard truth is that I am not God.
I can try to save their kids, but sometimes I can't. What I will do is everything in my power to make sure they survive.
"Brandon's condition is deteriorating rapidly.
We will need to adjust his treatment plan immediately to try and combat this relapse.
Therefore, I need him to be admitted, Brenda.
His chances are better if he's here. I won't sugarcoat this.
I'm afraid it's going to be a difficult road ahead for him and for your family. "
Brenda's voice quivers as she whispered, "Please... do everything you can. He's my baby boy. I'll bring him in tonight,"
I swallow hard, feeling an overwhelming sense of responsibility weighing on me. "Brenda, I promise you that we will do everything in our power to fight this. We won't give up on Brandon. I'll let my nurses know to expect you and run down the case with them."
As I end the call, I can't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose amidst the chaos of my own life. It's moments like this that remind me why I became a doctor in the first place--to make a difference in people's lives and help them through their darkest moments.
Once I have Brandon's platelets up I will suggest Chimeric antigen receptor (CAR) T-cell therapy.
When he's a little stronger I think it could be a good thing to try.
Luckily, the hospital is certified and I believe it couldn't hurt to give it a shot.
Cancer is relentless, but medical advancements are being made every single day.
Some days I feel so helpless. All I want to do is be able to help these kids fight this illness. I want them to be cancer free, to live on and have beautiful lives. Sadly, it doesn't always happen.