5. Giselle
Giselle
“Well I think it looks great,” Reina chimes in as I give myself a death stare into the large hotel mirror.
I run my hands down the tight, royal blue dress again and sigh. “What’s his problem anyway? He knows I have a hundred dresses and I never asked for it.” I huff as I turn to check all my angles. My head tilts as I notice how good my ass looks in it, trying to decide if I’ll really wear it.
“It’s kind of romantic though, it’s like in a movie! The hot, rich, billionaire sends up a box with a big bow on it, revealing the perfect dress.”
She is fully lost in la-la-land.
“Artem is not capable of romance, Reina. He didn’t send this as some sort of grand gesture or apology. Don’t you get it? This is his way of trying to assert some sort of control over me.”
She sighs deeply and rolls her eyes as she sits up straighter on the bed, squeezing the pillow over her lap. “Babe come on, not everything is always so demented, I think he might want to just reassure you.”
I let my mind consider it for a moment and my eyes soften, until I remember who we’re talking about and my mind races again.
“You don’t know him like I do.”
She looks at me with a sad, pleading look. “I thought we got past the obsession with beating him already?”
“Wellllll, that was before I found out I’m fucking marrying him in a week.
” I defeatedly plop next to her at the edge of the bed.
“If I wear it, I’m showing him that I’ll let him control my life, and he’ll push his luck.
And if I don’t wear it, he’ll know it’s because I’m totally in my head about him having control and he’ll taunt me for it. ”
Reina puts her arm around my shoulder reassuringly. “Wear the damn dress. If you’re gonna be miserable either way, do it while looking sexy. You can probably beat him if you seduce him.”
“Not happening,” I seethe to her. “He doesn’t even find me attractive. He thinks I’m a joke. Which, once again, I’ll remind you that he and I don’t do this because of some twisted form of crushing. This is serious, Reina,” I plead to her, but she still tries to push her smile back at my denial.
“Okay, whatever you say,” she says in mock defeat, her smile taking over.
I don’t see how anyone can misinterpret what Artem and I have for love, as if we’re both just delaying the inevitable and playing a game.
“I’ll wear it, only because I want to show him that I don’t give a shit.” I decide with a nod, standing up to get my shoes and purse together.
“I wish you could come,” I fake pout my bottom lip, and she laughs.
“I know, I know. But I promised Michael I’d spend this weekend with him since I’m missing his birthday next week for your wedding festivities.”
“Please don’t remind me, I’m not even ready for my entire night to be about my upcoming wedding. Plus, my dad is going to be there.”
“You just ignore him if you can, okay? Don’t let any of the men in your life make you feel so defeated.”
I nod at her reminder and take a deep breath. She’s right. I’m so in my head about everyone and I’m losing sight of myself.
My thoughts are interrupted by a call coming from the hotel phone, and I make an inquisitive look to Reina as I go to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Sokolov? I was asked to send word that you have a ride waiting for you.”
My eyes close at her words, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“My name isn’t Sokolov, my reservation is under Santoro,” I say to the receptionist, and she makes a small noise as I assume she double-checks the information.
“Hm, I have an Artem Sokolov listed here as the room and card holder, and you’re listed under the same name.”
I don’t mean to be rude, but I slam the phone back on the hook. Fucking how? How does this man constantly find ways to sink claws into my life?
I storm to the elevator, saying goodbye to Reina as she gets herself ready for her date. When I walk out, the receptionist calls out to me. “I’m sorry if there was a confusion, I can adjust your name in the reservation if you like?”
I try not to roll my eyes, because she’s being nice but that isn’t the fucking reason I’m angry. “No, thank you. Everything is fine, it was my mistake,” I reply politely and she looks relieved.
His stupid Mercedes is parked outside when I walk out, and I get in the passenger seat before slamming the door shut.
“God damn, do you know how much this car costs?”
“Fuck you and your car. How the hell did my hotel reservation suddenly become yours, Artem?”
He smirks as he starts the car, switching the gear as he turns to me. “Everything about you, I will own. You should get used to it, solnishko.”
“What the fuck does that mean, anyway?” I spit, not in the mood for his pet names. I never asked before, but now that I might be stuck with him for life, I’d like to learn what I can. He chuckles, and then thinks for a moment.
“It means little nuisance.”
My fingers twitch at his answer. “Well, stop calling me that in front of people who speak Russian, that’s fucking rude.”
He doesn’t respond, only laughs to himself.
“How did you know I was even there anyway?” I ask, wondering how in the world anyone would know.
“I know everything about you.”
This little . . .
“So, what? You couldn’t let me have my last week of freedom? You did that just to prove some fucking point?”
He stills for a moment, the only sound the tires spinning on the highway and cars passing. “Would you rather it was your father’s name on the reservation?”
I suck in a breath when he asks that. It isn’t like he knows, not really. But clearly he’s trying to dig for information I’m not willing to divulge.
“It doesn’t matter whose name it’s under, you’re both controlling pricks.”
He chuckles at my comment and keeps his eyes on the road. After what felt like forever trapped in the car with him, we arrive outside of the country club.
“Oh, here,” he says, grabbing a box from the console. He tosses it on my lap, and I open it.
It’s beautiful, actually, it’s weirdly perfect. How the hell would he have chosen a ring I like? I don’t dare let my expression change, not wanting him to think I’m happy about it or like it. I take it out of the box and slip it on my ring finger.
“Good enough, I guess?” he asks with a smirk, and I turn my head to hide my face.
“Yeah, whatever.”
He parks the car at the curb, handing the key to the valet before he comes over to open the door for me. He looks down at me, extending his hand. “Ready for the show, princess?”
I roll my eyes and put my hand in his, letting him pull me up. I adjust my dress after we walk up the steps, and I can feel his eyes burning a hole into my ass.
“I didn’t think you’d actually wear the dress I sent to your room,” he says with a smug look, not even hiding his eyes raking down my body.
“Well I wish I didn’t, it’s too tight,” I say quietly as I reluctantly take his arm.
“That was the idea,” he whispers, leaning toward my ear.
Asshole.
“Smile, solnishko, you know how to, right?” I try to reign in my facial expression as we pass people we know, and I put on a fake smile.
There are some shocked expressions and whispers as we walk down the grand steps arm in arm, and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. Everyone probably thinks I’m some sort of social climber, marrying my family’s rival just because he’s the new head of his family.
It’s almost embarrassing; being shown off like a prize pig to the most qualified bachelor.
We reach the bottom of the staircase, he walks me to the table where his brothers are seated. “If it isn’t my future sister-in-law,” Max coos with a smile as Artem and I approach.
“Max, do you have to find a way to make things even worse?” I sigh as I plop into a seat.
“What? Not used to being part of the family yet?”
I shoot him a death glare as he laughs.
“You’re exhausting,” Roman mutters to Max.
“No, brother, I’m entertaining. Someone here has to lighten the mood, especially when Mr. and Mrs. Lovebird over here look ready to kill each other.”
“Be careful Max. I might start with you,” I tease with my eyes narrowed, and he laughs.
“I really am looking forward to having a sister,” he says genuinely as he takes a sip of his drink. “She’s got bite, Artem.”
“She also has limits,” Artem warns, shooting Max a glance over his glass. His hand rests tightly on the back of my chair, and I adjust myself in the seat.
What was that about anyway? There’s no way that was him defending me, maybe he just meant that I can’t handle more?
The banter stills as my breath catches. My eyes fixed on the staircase as Caesar and my father come down the steps. Artem follows my gaze, immediately noticing the shift in my demeanor. My father’s eyes catch mine for a moment, but he quickly looks away.
I didn’t notice I was gripping the edge of the table until Artem spoke up.
“Unless you’re planning to break the table in half solnishko, I suggest you let go before you make a scene.”
I straighten my posture at his words, putting my hand back in my lap. I didn’t want him to see me so affected by my father, and I hate looking weak in front of people like this.
“I told you not to call me that.”
My eyes wander back to my family, but my father still doesn’t give me a second glance.
“What’s wrong exactly?” Roman asks, picking up on the tension with my family.
“Nothing, everything is fine.” I say curtly as I shrug my shoulders.
“You don’t look fine,” Artem spits as he takes another sip.
“What do you care anyway?”
“I don’t, but if you somehow fall apart before this announcement, it’ll make me look bad. So, get it together.”
I look back to the table before responding. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” I can still feel his eyes boring into me, and I look back at him. His jaw flexes as our eyes meet, and he turns back to the glass in his hand.
I see Roman across from me looking behind me with distaste, as I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Gigi,” I hear my brother and smile, standing up from the table to hug him.
“Artem,” my brother says with a clearing of his throat, an awkward attempt at a greeting.