Chapter Seven #2
People married people they didn’t love all the time. But the man I hated the most? It was a recipe for disaster. Even though it was something I had to do, I couldn’t help but wish I were waking up in another reality where I wasn’t in the position to have to marry Konstantin Lobanov.
Up to this point, the clear expectation that Konstantin had of me—that I would take the reality badly and break—had been my incentive to act composed and keep my despair hidden. It had been the reason behind my calm demeanor. That and the fact that I couldn’t possibly change how things were going.
But the truth was that I wasn’t that girl. I wasn’t the girl who randomly got married in the name of strategy. I wasn’t the girl who lived one life one day and a completely different life the next.
But maybe I can try to be her.
Sighing heavily, I went into the bathroom to freshen up.
Ruslan was practically dragging me out of the room an hour later. He had come into the room just after I freshened up and was rolling my hair up in its usual twist. I, for one, was glad to be stepping out of the room after being restricted to its four walls.
“Cheer up!” he persuaded, “you only get married once.”
“Not when you’re marrying the devil himself,” I replied, making him suck in a dramatic breath.
Men moved swiftly up and down the hallway, carrying and organizing things.
The interior of the house, which was covered in dust just two days ago, was now super neat.
Of course, it was their boss getting married.
But I realized something else: these people were used to arrangements like these, snap marriages, cover stories, clean paperwork.
They were too efficient and organized to be unaccustomed to all of it. Unlike me.
“It’s definitely not what you would have wanted. But, eventually, it will only be what you make of it. Besides, aren’t you glad you weren’t in a relationship when all this happened? Imagine if you had to break someone’s heart. How messy would it have been?”
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” I declared.
He chuckled as he opened a door along the hallway and we entered a room which was much bigger than the one I had been staying in.
“Hello, miss,” a willowy blonde walked up to me, all smiles. “I’m Mara. Your seamstress. I’ll also be styling your hair and face.”
“I’ll be back to check on you,” Ruslan assured before leaving me.
This is really it.
As I followed Mara’s lead to the soft cream dress held up by a hanger, I felt like a pawn in a chess game I had no understanding of.
A spark of defiance burned in me as she started working on my face, her brush making quick but soft strokes.
I wondered what Konstantin was doing. He was probably ordering his men around in preparation for a marriage that would do more damage than he’d already done in my life. In that moment, my hatred for him surged.
Does he even remember the lives he has taken?
“I hope you like it. He said you preferred simple,” she inquired as she moved to the side, and I gazed at the mirror.
The makeup was, indeed, simple. But, it was also beautiful. The soft pink on my eyebrows and the highlighted contour of my face made me look and even feel younger.
The woman in the mirror wasn’t a victim; she was a woman who could survive inside a lion’s den.
“You do?” she asked gingerly, her voice bringing me back from my trance.
“Yes, yes. It’s lovely, thank you.”
“Oh, I’m glad. It’s time for the dress.”
She helped me into the simple dress and came behind me to zip the low back up.
The silky feel of the fabric beneath my fingers was something I would have loved if circumstances were different.
The plunging V-neck gave the tiniest hint of the swell of my breasts, and it was cinched up to the waist, where it flared into a wider skirt that flowed gracefully to my feet.
“Ah, perfect! Just a final touch and we’re good,” she remarked, gesturing to the seat.
Just as I stood from the chair again, the door opened, and Konstantin Lobanov walked in.
There was no leather jacket this time; he had a black suit over a white shirt and black pants, all of which looked tailored.
His hair was in its usual low ponytail, but a few strands fell to his forehead.
One could mistake him for an actual model or even a CEO. Not that any of it mattered to me.
“It’s time,” he said as I met his eyes.
“Let’s get this over with,” I muttered, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders as I walked toward him.
He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t bother attempting to break the silence as we walked to the chapel.
“That’s Alexei Lobanov,” he said as I gazed at the tall green-eyed man in a suit who muttered something to him in Russian as we walked on. “Our first cousin. He oversees our European operations. He’s the closest to us right now, so he’ll be a witness.”
The man looked at me with something like curiosity, but didn’t say anything.
The whole event, not that it was anything celebratory, seeing as there was no soft wedding music or even a real aisle for me to walk up, passed in a blur.
Before I knew it, Konstantin and I were standing facing each other as the priest read the vows.
“I will never belong to you,” I whispered to him.
Of all reactions, he simply raised a brow with a smirk on his face.
Really?!