7. Nona
NONA
“Eyes up, please.”
I turn my eyes upward as the makeup artist leans in with the eyeliner. My hair is still in curlers and I’m wearing a white silk robe that I’m pretty sure was made just for this particular occasion. In a few hours, I’m going to be married. Whether I like it or not.
His sister Yeva’s here and so are several other women I don’t know.
They’re all wearing the same dark blue silk dresses with short, chiffon sleeves that I’m certain are yet another design insisted upon by my father.
There are a couple of them who are my age, but most of them are in their forties.
Through listening to them chatter back and forth while I get my makeup done, I find out that they’re all the wives and sisters of the members of both brotherhoods.
Too bad I don’t really know any of them.
I’ve never felt more isolated than I do right now.
Even locked up in my bedroom at my father’s house when he’s angry with me.
Even during the times when he’s decided not to talk to me for some offense that he says I committed.
If I didn’t have an eyeliner pencil so close to my eye, I’d burst into tears.
The makeup artist finishes her work and sits back, her round brown eyes scanning my face.
“Beautiful.” She grabs a hand mirror from her bag and holds it up in front of my face.
The makeup is well done. The contours of my face have been buffed out along my cheeks and jawline, practically erasing the cherubic features of my face.
My freckles have been expertly covered. I can barely see the speckles over the bridge of my nose.
And the light brown eye makeup and dark liner are making my green eyes sparkle like emeralds.
My only complaint is the lipstick. It’s only a shade above the natural rose color of my lips, so it almost looks like I don’t have anything on at all.
If I’d had my choice, I’d wear bright red lipstick. Fire engine red. But then, very few things happening today are my choice, so…
I smile politely and thank her. “It’s very nice,” I say.
Yeva comes over. She’s holding a wineglass as she looks me over with those icy blue eyes. “Not bad,” she says. “Needs something brighter on the lips, though.”
“Um,” the makeup artist stammers. “Her father specifically told me no red lipstick.”
Yeva scoffs. “This isn’t his wedding. He’s not going to have to marry my brother,” she says. She looks at me. “What do you think? You like that color on you?”
I could lie. It would be the easier thing to do to keep from rocking the boat.
Yeva clears her throat and adds, “It’s really none of my business, but in a few hours, you will no longer be Nona Sokolov.
You’ll be Nona Molotov. And I think your husband would appreciate you in something with a little fire on your wedding day.
” She side eyes the makeup artist. “So, what’s it gonna be, Sister? Your father or your husband?”
I know this is another test of my loyalty, but I don’t think I care. When I look at myself in that mirror, I see the woman my father thinks I should be. Not the woman I am.
“Do you… have something redder than this?” I ask the makeup artist. “Like really red?”
She bristles slightly and goes into her bag, setting the mirror down. “Of course. I have several shades, actually.”
She pulls out a palette of lipstick colors. One of them catches my eye. Dark, blood red. I can already imagine it on my lips. The moment I point at it, the makeup artist goes pale and Yeva’s smile broadens.
“That’s a good color on you,” she says, then to the makeup artist, “Wouldn’t you say so?”
“It’s lovely,” is all she says.
She takes a makeup remover wipe to my lips, then starts over with the blood red shade. When I look at my lips this time, I sit up a little straighter. I look sexy, fierce, smoking hot. I look like the kind of woman I’ve always wanted to be.
“Now that’s a good makeup job,” Yeva says.
All the makeup artist says as she puts her tools back in her bag is,” We’d better get your hair finished, Ms. Sokolov.”
As she starts doing my hair, all I can think about is getting through this day. Earlier, when I woke up this morning, I did briefly debate having one more conversation with my father, but I thought better of it. This is supposed to be for the brotherhood. Duty, honor, loyalty, and all that.
At least I’ll look good as I throw my life away.
I keep replaying the ceremony in my mind.
The moment my father saw the red lipstick and my bare arms, his jaw clenched… but he said nothing. What could he say? What could he do? After today, I won’t even be living with him anymore.
That moment as I walked down the aisle was surreal.
Every eye in the church was on me as I walked slowly down the middle aisle with my arm looped in with my father’s, my veil covering my face.
The material gave the illusion that I could hide behind it and not notice the feel of scores of eyes all over me, but it was barely working.
I’d tried focusing on Alexandr, but…
I’m trying not to think of the rest. I swirl the wine around in my glass as the bass from the DJ booth thumps on and on. People are seated at their tables, drinking, talking, having a great time.
I can’t shake the one thought that has been echoing in my mind from the moment I saw Alexandr’s bored face as he stood at the altar. This should be one of the greatest days of my life.
It’s not. The one kiss we shared when it was all said and done felt more like a dental checkup than anything else. Cold, clinical, sterile. Ugh, I wish I could get out of here.
“Smile.”
I look up from my glass at Alexandr next to me. He’s not looking at me. He’s watching the room while he drinks. He’s been drinking a lot tonight.
“What?” I say.
“I said, ‘smile’,” he repeats. “This is your wedding day. Act like you’re happy to be here.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Everyone in here knows what the deal is. Why should I pretend?”
“Because it looks good,” he says. “You do want this to look good, don’t you?”
He side eyes me, but I can feel the heat coming off him. I have a feeling he’d love for me to give him a reason to lose his cool on me.
I manage a smile and sit up straight.
“There you go,” he says. “Have some more wine. Loosen up.”
Ugh. I really can’t wait for this night to be over.
I feel Alexandr shift in his seat. He downs his wine and takes my hand. “Come on.”
“What… What are you—”
“We’re dancing,” he says. “Couples are supposed to dance at weddings, so let’s dance.”
As he pulls me to my feet, the music stops and the dance floor clears. Alexandr motions to the DJ with his hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ says over the speakers. “Give it up for Mr. and Mrs. Molotov.”
Everyone claps. I feel like I’m going to die.
The lights dim and a spotlight comes on over us. Alexandr takes me in his arms and we sway to the music. I’m doing my best to keep my smile, but… he smells heavily of alcohol.
I don’t meet his eyes. I look around the room as we turn instead.
“Nona,” he says. “Look at me.”
I turn my eyes up to his. He does have really beautiful eyes. In this light, they shine like sky blue topazes. I find myself wondering what they might look like if he actually cared for me.
“Very good,” he says in a low, rumbly tone. I feel his hand move up my back as he presses my body against his. “Now you look more like my blushing bride.”
I am blushing a little, admittedly. My hands are against his chest. Underneath his shirt, the hard muscle presses against the palms of my hands as his heartbeats thrum against my skin.
This… is nice. Or at least a nice fantasy. I relax a little and move my hands up and around his neck, lacing them together.
“That’s a good girl,” he mutters, and the sound of his voice sends a signal through me that I’m not expecting. My face gets hot and I look away again.
“Nona—”
“Give me a second,” I say as I take a breath. “This is… hard.”
“Hmm. Well, it doesn’t have to be.” His hand on my back moves down to my waist… then past my waistline. Before I know what’s happening, I feel my right ass cheek tighten under his grip.
Instinct kicks in and I stiffen. My hands move on their own, sliding down to his chest and pushing him… hard. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with shock.
How dare he? I storm off without a word. Does he think he just has access to me? In public?
I’m halfway through the hall leading out of the ballroom when I hear footsteps come up behind me and I’m grabbed by the arm. I whirl around and see my father’s enraged face.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” He growls at me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”
“He grabbed me—”
“Of course he grabbed you, you fucking idiot! He gets in my face. “He’s your husband, Nona. Don’t tell me you forgot that already?”
I can’t speak. My eyes are burning with tears. I blink them back and force the sobs back down into my body.
“You are blowing this,” he says. “I told you that you are to be submissive to your husband. That means allowing him to show public affection if he wants to.”
“H-He’s been drinking,” I manage to say. “He—”
He raises his hand and I flinch… but he stops himself. Instead, he points in my face and says, “If you mess this up for us… If he decides that he doesn’t want you anymore because of your foolishness, you can forget about coming back home again. You will not be my daughter anymore, Nona.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing and I can’t respond. He would really kick me out of his life…
“Now, get yourself together,” he says. “Go back in there and apologize to your husband. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I say softly.
“Good. Get going.”
I lift my head and swallow hard, forcing myself not to cry. He’s right. There’s more going on than just my feelings or this stupid marriage. I have to get myself together and do what I’m told. For my father and for the Bratva.
I walk back into the ballroom. The music’s back on and people are dancing again. Alex is sitting back at the table at the far side of the room, a sour look on his face as he drinks his wine.
Everyone is watching me as I walk over to him. My face feels hot as I flush with embarrassment. I’ve really made a mess of things.
I lean in and kiss him on the cheek, making a public spectacle. He doesn’t move or acknowledge me, so I sit down next to him. “I’m sorry,” I say.
He doesn’t say anything. He just drinks his wine.
“I… I wasn’t expecting you to grab me, okay? I just…” I can’t come at this with excuses. “I’m sorry.”
He looks over at me, then says, “If this is going to work, you’re going to have to fix your attitude, Nona.”
I just stare at him. God, I wish I could slap him.
He sits up in his chair and leans into me. “Your father seemed kind of pissed. What did he say to you in the hall?”
I look away. I have to swallow again as my eyes start burning a little from impending tears. “He told me not to blow it with you.”
I can feel his eyes on me, reading my face. “That all he said?”
“Pretty much,” I tell him. “You have to admit, what I just did was pretty stupid.”
He sighs and leans back into his chair. He picks up his nearly empty glass of wine and swirls it around. “Yeah, well… At least you fought back. I wasn’t expecting you to, if I’m being honest.”
I look at him incredulously. “You really have a low opinion of me, don’t you?”
He finishes the wine in his glass. “It’s about as high of an opinion as you have of me.”
No lie there. Our disgust with one another is the one thing uniting us in this sham marriage.
“Let’s just get through this night without any more outbursts. Okay?”
“Deal.”