Chapter Three
Emilia's POV.
Two brawny men led me up the staircase while I follow with heightened awareness.
I couldn’t believe that anything that had happened was real, regardless of facing the fact that I was held hostage by Viktor Lobanov.
Somehow, the security that patrolled the house made me feel not only concerned, but also curious as to who Viktor was.
What could he possibly be doing that would earn him the trust of all these men who looked twice as big as he?
“Take it easy now, will you? You wouldn't want to get hurt before your big day,” said one of the guards as I tripped on the slippery marble floor.
We walked past a passage with the walls made of glass, right before we arrived at a wooden door.
None of this felt right. Definitely, Viktor could be a prominent figure somewhere. It's either that or something else I didn't know.
“This is your room,” the other guard declared.
I glanced around the room, which was a banquet hall, compared to my other room.
The yellow incandescence was dim. The round chandelier above my head sparkled, and I sat down on the soft mattress.
I wasn't shocked to feel the bed welcome my ass in a way that made me lie back, just before I heard the lock on the door.
I jerked forward, opening my eyes to my lonely room. “My goodness,” I sighed. “I'm fucked.”
All this was Dad's fault.
I suppose my mother was the best family I never really had.
But dad? Dad was distant. I recall once when I asked him to take me to the carnival.
“I'll take you to the carnival, my dear,” he had said. “But not today. I have a meeting with the members of the board so I can have a shot at getting reinstated as senator.”
That was always his excuse.
It was hard to eat dinner sometimes without him and mom exchanging words at the dining table.
“You have no right to tell me what place I need to be in,” Dad said.
“As far as I remember, I was the one who took you out of your parents' house, married you, and committed to raising this family with you, so don't you dare tell me that I've become unreachable, god-dammit. If anyone's unreachable, it's you.”
“Greg, you're being very unfair.”
“Oh, so I'm not just unreachable, but also unfair.”
I saw the disgust splattered all across Mom's face while she choked on whatever it was that she intended to say.
“I've stood by your side every day, every time.
And every moment of my life since we got to know each other, I've supported you in many ways you can't count.
You know it. If telling you the truth is what fuels your rage, then I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for ever having tried to tell you how much you've left Emilia, and I miss your presence.” Mom stood up from the table and walked out on us.
Dad didn't say anything. He sighed, threw his fork into his food, and looked at me in a calmer, more relaxed way.
A week later, it seemed as though Mom's words struck Dad in the best way they ever could.
We began to have movie nights on Wednesdays together, took a bite at McDonald's when we walked downtown, although the scent of cigarettes, car fumes, and burnt food filled the atmosphere with a stench I thought I'd get used to. Sadly, I never did.
Those days were some of the best days. We watched movies in the theatre, I got to hang around Dad's office during my spare time, and he taught me how to handle business, how to keep accounts, and manage resources as due.
But everything began to fall apart again after he received a phone call.
I knew it was Wanda, Dad's PA, who called him.
I still recalled her voice. And I also believed that she was the one who told him that he wasn't taking his campaigns as seriously as he should.
“You'll lose the election if you don't act right,” she yelled over the phone. “Gird yourself and don't fail to attend our meeting with the electoral board by 8 pm.”
Dad didn't counter or say anything in defence. Three days afterwards, he left a note.
“My dear Emilia, I'm sorry I can't be here for you. Take good care of yourself, and I'll make sure I return as soon as I can.”
He never returned until after some days.
After mum left us, he was still distant, although he found a way of making me feel whole.
His gifts were a sign that he cared. But with every gift that he left for me, it made me feel his absence even more.
I had no one to play with, no one to talk to.
I felt as though I was orphaned, while my father prioritised his work over his family.
All the while, I lived to think that Dad was just a workaholic who loved to work.
Yet, with all that had happened in the past hour, I began to think that there's another side of Dad that I wasn't even aware of.
How on earth did he know Viktor Lobanov, and what was his relationship with him?
How come he owed millions of dollars, and why was I the collateral?
Of all the things he could give up, he decided to give me up?
My eyes felt warm alongside my breath. The thought of Dad's lack of care made me feel betrayed as his daughter and his only child.
Yet, I was still willing to give him a chance to explain.
And even if I needed his explanation, I feared I wouldn't get one, and this infuriated me.
My phone was seized way before I got past the front door of this scary mansion, so it was hard for me to call.
This moment didn't feel like the ones I watched in movies; it felt worse.
“I love you, my Emilia.” Dad's voice echoed in a continuous loop in my head.
“I’m proud of you. I know there are many things you want and wish to have, but you're so independent that you seem to do everything alone, and it works.
You're not too demanding, and you don't throw tantrums like the daughters of my colleagues. Every day, you remind me more and more of your mother.”
Well, I guess this was the highest height of his love—signing up his daughter as collateral for a loan he knew he couldn't afford to pay.
***********
The door unlocked, and I stood up in fear. A lady who wore a black and white uniform, which revealed her thighs and cleavage, gently laid a silk dress on the bed.
“You are to wear this for tomorrow's ceremony, Miss.” She said with a strong Russian accent.
“What ceremony?” I asked. The lady's forehead creased as though she was confused as to why I asked her such a question.
“Don't you know? The Pakhan has announced that tomorrow is your marriage ceremony.”
I remembered Viktor mentioning the same term when I met him.
“What's a Pakhan?” I asked.
“You don't know?” she enunciated, and I nodded my head in bewilderment.
“And I'd also like to know who Viktor Lobanov is.”
“Viktor Lobanov is the Pakhan of the Lobanov Bratva mafia, the biggest, strongest, and most powerful in all of New York. He's the ultimate boss, and he controls everything.”
“And by everything, you mean?”
“Everything, Miss. Everything. He controls the crime, the drugs, the money. He's the most powerful man I've seen, and you are going to get married to him tomorrow.”
My eyes closed shut while I tried to process it all in my head.
By tomorrow, I won't be a single woman anymore.
I'll be married to a mob boss who controls all the crime and money in New York.
My pulse increased, and I felt short of breath.
I knew the maid said something, and I followed the motions of her lips, but I couldn't hear a thing.
She turned to walk out of the door, and all I could think of was to run until I made my way out of this dungeon.
So I ran like my life depended on it. I'd forgotten how slippery and cold the marble floors were before I tripped.
Sadly, what I thought was a pillar was just a large flower vase made of porcelain.
The shatter alerted every guard in the building, and immediately, I knew I was doomed.
Regardless, I made my way down the staircases and noticed the row of guards who stood in wait for me. I turned back and ran through the opening, which led to the kitchen. Unfortunately for me, it was closed, so I tried to find another way.
At every turn, I was met with a guard who almost caught me, so I found my way up the stairs again and turned left. The guards seemed to have stopped the chase, yet I ran with my adrenaline pumping like never before.
A door stood ahead of me, and I stretched to touch the handle.
After I gave it a good squeeze, I heard voices behind the door.
I couldn't tell the voice of the other person, but I knew that he spoke to Viktor Lobanov.
In shock, I released my hand from the handle.
I reflected on the piercing gaze that made me gulp so hard, I feared he'd pull a gun to my head.
Viktor had every chance to kill me, but he didn't. Instead, he did the opposite of what I expected him to.
Thinking about it, it seemed almost stupid of me to reply to a Mafia boss the way I did.
The most powerful man in New York was definitely a million times stronger than my dad, and to crown the shame, I was just his collateral.
l wasn't special, and I was never going to be special.
The thought of me being one of his sex slaves made me want to give up, but the point at which I gave up was when a group of guards hastily walked towards me.
“Come with me. It's best if you stay in your room,” one of the guards said, and I followed him.
The maid brought my dinner shortly after I walked in. It had a nice aroma, but I’d lost my appetite. I couldn't shower or even move from where I sat. I felt defeated at everything. My life wasn't mine anymore, and my will was forcefully taken from me.
Later that night, the same maid who brought the silk dress walked in.
“Why didn't you eat your food, miss? It's already cold.” She uttered. “Let me cook you something nice now. It will make you feel better.”
“No, please, I'm not hungry.”
“But you must eat, miss. Sir Viktor told me to make sure that you eat something before your big day tomorrow.”
“Kindly tell him that I'm not eating anything unless he lets me go. I'm not his prisoner.”
“No, miss. I can take the food out of the room, but I cannot tell him what you said. I'm sorry.”
The minute she rolled the tray out of the room, I threw my face into the pillow and screamed until my head ached. Sadly, no one seemed to come around. I couldn't control the amount of tears that rolled down the side of my cheek.
Somehow, I wished to see Dad so I could give him the middle finger and say out loud to his face that he was a massive douche.
I thought Viktor was the one I needed to hate, but now, I knew more than ever that I hated my father.
He never stood on his word like the coward he was.
A shameless, selfish, greedy nobody who had the guts to give me to a dangerous mafia boss whom I know nothing of.
I couldn't have walked alone, I said to myself.
If only I had friends. If only I had let myself open up to those people who genuinely wanted to be my friends, maybe I wouldn't have been kidnapped.
But no, I've always been cautious about letting people into my life because of my father's status, which now seems useless to me.
If only Mom were alive, none of this would've happened.
I wouldn't be in this difficult mess. And as angry as I was with Dad, I was the more angry at myself for believing that those gifts Dad left behind meant something.
It meant nothing to him, just as I meant nothing to him.
How was I to know if he even loved Mom? All the sacrifices she had to endure to ensure that our family kept on surviving now felt like a waste.
“It's so unfair,” I shouted as I sat upright on the bed. “It's so fucking unfair.”
A shadow crossed the left side of my eye, and I stood up to observe what passed.
It seemed to have come from the large opening in the window.
I took cautious steps, terrified every step I made was a wrong move; it could be the last time I'd take a step.
As I approached the window, the image became clearer, regardless of the translucency.
Someone stood behind, and I was eager to know who.
The very moment I stuck my head out, I saw him. Viktor Lobanov stood silent and calm, almost like he was a statue of himself. I tried to stay calm, but I couldn't. Viktor had become my living nightmare, and I was terrified that he might've changed his mind and decided to kill me.
“Tomorrow, you become my wife,” he said in a tone as deep as the grave.
My body froze in the stinging cold, and my lips felt dry. I couldn't map out what he meant by that. I didn't know what it meant to be the wife of a mafia boss, hence my brain was a rush of thoughts and fears.
Is that a threat? A promise?
Could it be that he really wanted me to be his wife, or that being his wife meant something else entirely?
I walked back to the bed and removed all my clothes. The bathroom was in front of me, so I walked to it and filled the bathtub with cold water. I stepped in, shivering at the piercing cold until my whole body was immersed.
“This is it,” I said to myself. Viktor must have thought I wasn’t serious about dying before I became his wife.
Too bad I was. I couldn't stand the thought of being forced to be part of this abomination against my will.
My feet and body felt completely numb, and the thought of suicide came to me in a strong rush.
I looked up to the marble ceiling, trying to hold on to my last moments.
Yet, the only person who flashed across my mind was my mother.
“Don't do this, Emilia,” she pleaded and shook her head. “Don't.”
But it was too late. I had made up my mind, I definitely couldn't marry Viktor, regardless of all his power and influence. So with one last quick breath of air, I let my head sink down, and the cold water pinch at every bit of my skin.