Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Natasha
I hadn't slept all night. I felt completely hollowed out, barely able to stay on my feet. But I had to hold it together. Today was my sister Vera's wedding to Dante.
I hated crowds like this. Or more accurately, I was terrified of these gatherings thick with scrutiny, power plays, and the threat of violence. The AC was cranked up high, but the air felt too thin to breathe.
I pressed myself into the farthest corner of the hall, back against the cold marble pillar, trying to disappear into its shadow.
But Anna found me anyway.
Anna was my high school classmate and the only friend I had in this world. No matter how well I hid, she could always spot me in a crowd.
She pushed through the guests and shoved a glass of bourbon into my hand, holding one herself in her wine-red bridesmaid dress.
"You need this. You've been sweating cold all day. You look like death."
Anna studied my face, eyes full of concern.
I was a wreck.
I took a long drink. The burn scorched down my throat and settled in my stomach, barely steadying my shaking. Anna kept staring, and her sharp gaze made panic spike through me.
I yanked at the collar of my already high-necked sweater, pulling it higher, wishing I could cover my chin.
Because underneath that thick wool, my collarbone, neck, and shoulders were covered in angry red marks and purple bruises from Dante's brutal assault in the fitting room yesterday. My inner thighs still ached and trembled with every step, a constant reminder of what happened.
I forced out a smile that felt fake even to me.
"I'm fine, Anna. Just didn't sleep well. I'm tired."
Anna wasn't buying it. She crossed her arms, eyes going sharp.
"Don't give me that. Dante marrying Vera has to be killing you. If you can't take it, just say the word. My car's in the back alley. We can leave right now."
Anna was probably the only person left in this world who still cared about me.
"I'm okay, Anna. Thank you." I looked at her, genuinely grateful.
I lied. I'd cried all night until I ran dry, left with nothing but raw, hiccupping sobs.
But I couldn't tell Anna any of it. I had to fake strength so she wouldn't worry.
"I've faced reality," I said, meeting her eyes. "This whole one-sided crush was stupid from the start. Once this wedding's over, I'm going to art school in London. I've saved up the tuition. I'm done with this family and their bullshit."
Anna's expression finally softened. She uncrossed her arms and pulled me into a hug.
"Sweetheart, I'm glad you see it that way."
I held onto Anna, soaking in her warmth. Then a thick-knuckled hand clamped around my right arm from behind.
I yelped and spun around. My father, Nikolai, stood there. His face was twisted with rage, those gray eyes burning with fury and undisguised murder.
I'd never seen him look like that before.
My stomach clenched. Panic swallowed me whole.
What was he angry about?
My mind raced. What had I done? I'd been locked in my room, kept my head down. Even that gallery show—I'd snuck off to it in secret. Only Vera knew. I hadn't caused any trouble or interfered with family business.
Wait.
A terrible thought exploded in my head, freezing my blood.
There was only one thing that could make Nikolai this furious right now.
What happened yesterday between me and Dante.
He knew. He had to know. Either the boutique staff found something in the fitting room, or Dante told him directly. Either way, I'd dared to steal his precious daughter Vera's man. I was dead.
I stumbled backward, trying to wrench my arm free from his grip.
"What's wrong, Nikolai?"
He ignored me completely and turned to Anna, voice ice-cold. "Anna, take your drink and leave. I need to discuss family business with my daughter."
Anna glanced between him and my arm turning white in his grip. She clearly sensed something was wrong. She set down her glass and stepped in front of me.
"Mr. Kornilov, what's going on?"
"I said this is family business!"
Anna bit her lip and looked at me with worry.
I shook my head slightly through the pain shooting up my arm. Anna's family was just a small player clinging to the mob for survival. If she kept pushing for my sake, Nikolai would destroy her.
Anna reluctantly stepped aside. Without another word, he dragged me toward the corridor behind the chapel.
"Let go! You're hurting me... where are you taking me?" I stumbled after him, nearly tripping in the heels I'd been forced to wear for the wedding.
He said nothing, just hauled me toward the private area behind the chapel. He dragged me all the way to the bridal dressing room at the end of the hall.
He kicked the door open and shoved me inside. I lost my balance and crashed forward, knees slamming hard into the floor. Pain shot through me.
Before I could get up, the door locked behind me.
I looked up in terror, scanning the room.
In the center, on a mannequin, hung a breathtakingly beautiful white haute couture wedding gown. The same one I'd tried on yesterday. But what was even more disturbing—Vera wasn't here.
The room was empty. No radiant bride sitting here touching up her makeup, preparing for the wedding of the century.
"Where's Vera?" I blurted out, panic snowballing inside me. If this wasn't about yesterday, then what?
Nikolai didn't answer. He strode over to two makeup artists and pointed at me on the floor, voice like it had been frozen in ice. "Clean her up. Makeup, hair, and get that wedding dress on her."
I thought I'd heard wrong.
Before I could speak, he grabbed a crumpled note from the vanity and slammed it on the table. "Your dear sister ran away. Vera left this goddamn note, took her passport and the cash from the safe, and slipped out the back door. She dumped this whole mess on us."
I wondered if my ears were broken. I stared at Nikolai, brain completely blank.
"You know what this means? In front of all those media people and mobsters, we just ground Dante's face into the dirt. He'll kill me first, then hang your brothers and sisters one by one from the Brooklyn Bridge. The whole family will pay for Vera's selfish bullshit!"
I gasped for air, looking at this man driven mad by fear and rage, finally understanding what he wanted.
"So..." I coughed, looked up at him, eyes full of disbelief. "You want me to replace her? You want me to take Vera's place and marry Dante?"
"You have to!" He pointed at me, voice leaving no room for argument. "You're the same size. With the veil on, if you keep your head down and walk that aisle, finish the ceremony—I'll explain to Dante after the wedding!"
"This is insane!"
"You don't have a choice, Natasha."
Nikolai looked down at me, eyes cold.
"You killed your mother." His voice wasn't loud, but it hammered into the rawest wound in my heart.
"If it wasn't for giving birth to you, she'd still be alive.
You've been living off the Kornilov family for years, a useless piece of shit for over twenty years.
You've never created any value for this family.
All you do is paint worthless pictures and hide in your room feeling sorry for yourself. "
He crouched down, staring into my tear-blurred eyes.
"Now it's time you paid this family back."
My heart broke so completely I could barely make a sound.
I'd always thought if I stayed quiet enough, small enough, invisible enough, he'd eventually soften.
He'd acknowledge I was his child too. Turned out that day was never coming.
All those years of waiting just to be sacrificed like an offering.
I stopped struggling.
"Fine."
I looked at Nikolai standing behind me. His face showed a flash of surprise, as if he hadn't expected me to give in so fast.
"Consider this my life paying you back for all these years. After this, Nikolai, we're not father and daughter anymore."
A tiny crack appeared in his hard face. His lips moved like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
He let out a heavy sigh and walked out of the dressing room.
The makeup artists swarmed me. I let them do whatever they wanted, mind completely numb. I didn't even care if the stranger in the mirror was really me.
Yesterday in the fitting room, looking at myself in that wedding gown, I'd felt a secret flicker of hope. If only it could be me at the altar tomorrow.
God was a cruel bastard.
He'd heard my pathetic little wish and granted it in the most twisted way possible. I got to wear the wedding dress. I was about to marry the man I'd loved for years. But this was a wedding without blessing—only hatred.
A knock at the door.
"Time's up." Nikolai's cold voice came from outside.
I took a deep breath, stood, and walked over. He didn't look at me, just bent his arm stiffly, indicating I should take it.
We walked side by side down the red-carpeted corridor. At the end, the main chapel hall.
The solemn, grand pipe organ suddenly thundered to life. The deafening wedding march echoed under the cathedral dome. Countless blinding camera flashes went off at once. I instinctively lowered my head, using the thick veil to hide from all those stares.
This hundred yards was the longest walk of my life.
"Wait... is that Vera?"
"Jesus, what is the Kornilov family doing? That looks like Vera's sister!"
The veil was thick, but it didn't hide my face. They'd already noticed something was wrong. Fear finally hit me.
But there was no turning back. Nikolai's grip was iron. He was practically dragging me forward.
Finally, we reached the altar.
I stopped and looked up along the red carpet at the face I'd dreamed about for years—the face that had dragged me to hell yesterday.
Dante Romanov stood there.
He seemed completely oblivious to the murmuring. That devastatingly handsome face wore a perfect smile without a single flaw. Those eyes, deep as a frozen lake, showed not a flicker of surprise when they took in my ill-fitting dress and the vague outline beneath the veil.
But his calm made my spine go cold.
Nikolai released my hand and placed it in Dante's.
"She's yours now, Dante." His voice trembled slightly.
Dante smiled and nodded.
He took my hand. His grip was crushing, like he wanted to break my bones.
I flinched hard, instinctively trying to pull away, but he squeezed tighter, leaving no room for escape.
The old priest stood before us, opening the heavy Bible, reading those ancient sacred vows in measured tones.
"Dante Romanov, do you take this woman to be your wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, till death do you part?"
The priest's words fell into dead silence. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the pakhan's response.
I kept my head down, biting my lip. I waited for him to tear off the veil, explode in rage, pull out his gun right there at this sacred altar, end this ridiculous farce and my life with it.
But no.
"I do."
Dante's voice rang out in the empty cathedral.
I jerked my head up, staring at him through the veil in disbelief.
He seemed so normal, as if this really was the wedding he'd been waiting for, as if I truly was his rightful bride.
"Vera Kornilov, do you take..."
"I do." I heard my voice answer like I was sleepwalking.
The priest nodded slightly, signaling the altar boy to bring forward the velvet tray with two diamond rings. He murmured a blessing over them, then looked at Dante.
"The groom may now place the ring on the bride's finger."
Dante picked up the smaller ring and slid it onto my finger inch by inch. I took a shaky breath and managed to slide the ring onto his hand.
The priest closed the Bible, voice echoing solemnly under the dome.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
A wave of restrained murmuring rippled through the crowd.
"You may now kiss the bride."
Dante turned to face me. He reached out with the hand that had nearly crushed my bones and gently lifted my veil. Our eyes met. His smile didn't change by a fraction. Then he leaned down, brought his face close to mine, and pressed his lips to mine.
The guests erupted in applause. Flashes went crazy.
And in all that noise, I heard Dante whisper in a voice only we could hear.
"You'd better have a damn good explanation, my dear wife."