Chapter 22 #2
“That’s the tradition for the Lords, especially for events like this,” she explains as if teaching a lesson. “Don’t worry, you’ll be forced to wear ridiculous things like this in the future too.”
My grimace says it all. Oksana’s is even more obvious.
“One more reason to run now...” my friend murmurs in Russian.
“That information doesn’t comfort me at all,” I tell my future sister-in-law in her language, ignoring Oksana’s comment.
“You will get used to it,” she says with a laugh. “When Oliver inherits the Lord title, you’ll become Lady. The position comes with plenty of little details like that. Why do you think I wanted to leave England? I can’t stand any of them anymore...”
She shakes her head in frustration. At twenty years old, her blood still rebels fiercely against the rules imposed by her family.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs wishes of happiness. I hope you get to have the life you want too.”
Her smile lights up her freckled face. “We deserve it, don’t we?” She says with hope in her voice.
“Absolutely,” I confirm, and she leans down to hug me.
“Leaving all my crazy family aside, I’m happy you’re going to become my sister,” she whispers while we are still caught in the embrace.
“Me too.” My answer is honest, feeling a little calmer knowing I will have at least one ally in this family.
“OK,” she says quickly, pulling away from me. “I’ll leave you now, because Mother will show up any second and ruin my bun just to throw me out of here. She told me not to bother you.”
Little rebel.
That’s why I like her.
She winks to me, kisses Oksana quickly too, then leaves the room, which I now notice is guarded by my new bodyguards.
“Even if we wanted to run, we couldn’t,” I say to Oksana in Russian, because she has noticed the detail as well.
“Blyad...” she hisses hopelessly.
But my heart skips a beat when three words steal the air from my lungs.
“Now the dress,” the stylist announces with enthusiasm.
In just a few minutes I’ll walk toward the altar, where Oliver will be waiting for me. My stomach has shrunk to the size of a walnut, and my heart beats harder, screaming that I am making a terrible mistake, and I should run.
But it is too late.
Helped by the “army,” I step into the dress, and within a few moments, I’m able to look in the mirror at my flawless reflection.
My hair is loose, falling in soft curls over my bare shoulders.
A long veil begins from the diamond crown set atop my head, drifting gently to the middle of my back, and in front, nearly to my breasts.
“Fuck, you’re a real princess,” Oksana says with emotion, squeezing my fingers in hers. “I’m always right beside you. Whatever you need, understood?”
I nod, because I know exactly what she means.
In an instant, Jane appears too, an earpiece in one ear and her assistant following like a puppy. She is glowing with happiness as if this is her own wedding.
One thing is certain: this event has brought her a great deal of money and a major accomplishment for her portfolio.
“Are we ready? We have five minutes.”
Oksana glances quickly into the mirror, looking at her maid-of-honor dress in a peach shade. She wanted it long, straight, and slit up one leg – so she could run in it, according to her.
“Everything is ready,” one stylist declares cheerfully, proud of her team’s work.
I approve, forcing a smile, then draw a deep breath.
The door suddenly opens and my brother appears, impeccably dressed in a dark blue suit, like the eyes now looking at me with pride.
“You are gorgeous, Katyusha,” he exclaims with emotion. “Mama and Papa would have been so proud of your beauty.”
I’m taking a deep breath, trying to stop the tears threatening my eyes. He comes closer, and I straighten the flower pinned to his lapel, smiling at my big brother.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here earlier. These days have been pure madness.”
“Your life is always like that.”
He winks at me, making a joke. “Today more than ever.”
“Today should be the exact opposite. A day of relaxation and fun.”
“I don’t is possible,” he says, becoming a little more serious. “Are you okay?”
I nod, but he narrows his eyes because he knows me too well. He knows I’m lying, especially because of the lack of excitement written across my face.
He comes closer and wraps me in his arms.
“It’s going to be OK, Katyusha,” he whispers, kissing the crown of my head, just as he did when we were children and promised he would take care of me.
“Please, don’t ruin the makeup or the dress. She has to be flawless.”
Jane’s words make Mikhail tense, and he gives her a response that is unmistakably his style. “If you want to make it by tomorrow, I recommend you shut the fuck up and let me hold my sister.”
And yet, without rushing, he pulls away, looking at me with a sad smile.
“Especially since the last time we saw each other, we were together at a funeral,” he adds, reminding me of the day we buried Papa.
“And now we’re seeing each other at a wedding,” I say without enthusiasm. “Yippy.”
“It feels about the same,” Oksana mutters in Russian, plucking a petal from one of the flowers in her bouquet.
My friend’s subtlety doesn’t escape my brother, who understands her words perfectly and looks at me skeptically. “Do you have something to tell me, mladshaya sestra16?”
“Net17.” My voice is flat, already resigned to my fate, which is too late and impossible to change. “Let’s go.”
Jane seems to breathe in relief and immediately announces into her earpiece that we are moving. I hear her quietly giving a few orders, which makes my heart pound even harder, anticipating what comes next.
To sentence myself to a loveless life.
Still, I hope to find beside Oliver that comfort from the beginning, or at least a routine that will bring me peace.
I cling to my brother’s arm like a lifeline as we head toward the hall that leads to the aisle and the altar beyond.
Oksana comes closer to me and, no matter what the others say, wraps one arm around me.
“Last chance, Matryoshka18,” my friend whispers.
16 младшая сестра (ru.) – little sister
17Нет (ru.) - no
18Traditional russian doll
“Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t,” I whisper back. “Don’t you see how many there are?”
“Ten seconds. Maid of honor, go!” Jane urges, anxious for everything to be perfect.
Only now, when she straightens and looks around, does Oksana notice the men dressed in suits similar to the two who were named my new bodyguards today. At first glance, I realize there are at least ten of them only in the area where we are standing now, all new faces I have never seen before.
Something tells me strange things are happening here, but my brother’s presence offers me a small measure of comfort.
Among them all, I recognize some Slavic features of men hiding their weapons rather well. They are here to guard important people from Bratva, or perhaps they were brought by the man beside me, who is staring ahead with seriousness and attention.
This wedding is a dynamite, ready to explode at the first wrong move.
In the center of all of it, is me, the one who wants to run from everyone and everything.
“Blyad...” I mutter through my teeth.
Jane appears beside us and hurries us along.
“Oksana, come on. Katya, wait for my signal.”
Like a robot, I obey.
Before she disappears from my view, Oksana gives me another encouraging smile, then starts toward the right, past the column, down the aisle.
As the music fitting for such an event begins to play, the air grows harder to breathe.
My heart pounds, and I can feel panic closing in.
I don’t want to do this.
I know it’s wrong, but I can no longer change anything.
I barely hear Jane telling me to move.