Chapter 7
ISABELLA
“You look beautiful,” Anya says as I look at myself in the mirror.
She’s standing behind me, holding my veil in her hands.
It’s T-Minus twenty minutes before I’m to walk down the aisle and at the moment, it’s just me and my ‘maid of honor’ in this room.
A minute ago, there were dozens of people all around me.
Bridesmaids, hair dressers, makeup artists, dress fitters.
You’d think I was royalty or something with all the commotion.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to sound grateful. I have a million other things I want to say. About this dress that was meant for my sister, about how I’m not really supposed to even be here… It all seems futile. It’s like I’m stuck in someone else’s dream.
She takes a step toward me, then stops as her eye catches something about my veil. She holds it up to the light, then tsks. “You’ve got a tear in this,” she says. She sets it down and starts looking around the room. “Do we have any needle and thread? Dammit.”
I watch her as she looks through the desk on the other side of the room and in the cushions of the couch by the windows. Finally, she sighs. “I think there’s some downstairs in the Priest’s office. I’ll be right back.”
And before I can say anything, she’s gone. I look back at myself in the mirror.
I’m doing my best not to cry. It took them hours to put all this makeup on. It would be a terrible look if I walked down the aisle with raccoon eyes because I couldn’t keep from crying. I’m not even sure why I care so much about what I look like. It’s not like this is a marriage I want.
I look at my reflection in the mirror. Here I am, wearing a wedding dress that had been meant for my sister.
Ironically enough, the dress fits me well.
The mermaid design clings to my hips perfectly where it was a little big on my sister.
It didn’t even need to be altered. It makes me think that I was always intended to be in this space.
Ugh, that’s a horrifying thought.
I turn away and walk over to the couch and sit down.
My bridesmaids are a mix of cousins that I barely know and women from Alexei’s family.
My maid of honor is one of my future husband’s cousins, though she just left to find thread for the miniscule rip in my veil.
I glance over at it as it lies on the couch next to me.
You can barely even see it. And I couldn’t give a fuck if it was ripped to shreds. This whole thing is a farce, anyway.
I should have done what my sister did and run. Dad’s had me living at his house and under guard since this whole shit decision came down, but I’m sure I could have climbed out of a bathroom window at some point and just split.
The thing that stopped me was that I just don’t have anywhere else to go.
Everybody in Fortune is either indirectly or directly connected to one of our families.
I don’t even know how Anya has been able to stay away as long as she has without anybody having seen her.
She must have driven to Canada the day she left or something.
I wasn’t afforded that kind of opportunity. No cars with full tanks of gas have ever been at my disposal. So here I am, sitting alone in the dressing room of a church…
Oh. I am alone, aren’t I?
I glance around at the plush beige sofa I’m sitting on and the fancy mirror on the other side of the room. Beyond that are windows that are big enough for me to fit through… Although I am on the second floor.
There’s supposed to be somebody guarding the door, but I didn’t hear Anya talking to anybody when she left. I get up and walk to the door… and I open it slightly.
Peering out through the tiny crack, I don’t see anyone. I don’t hear anybody either. I take a breath and open it all the way, poking my head out.
No one’s here. Oh, my gosh, finally. This is my car full of gas and it showed up at the zero hour.
Better late than never, I always say. I gather up the dress, hiking it up just above my knees, and I creep down the hallway.
The church is pretty big. It was like a maze coming through here when I first arrived. I tried to pay attention to every turn I took, however, just in case an opportunity such as this came up. It’s serving me well so far.
I manage to find the stairs, so I rush down them and it leads me right to the main hallway before the sanctuary. Both doors look like ancient medieval doorways, impossibly large wood things with oversized brass handles. It really lends to this whole ancient princess escaping a castle theme.
I rush toward the door leading out and put my hand on the door handle and pull it open. I get the heavy door open a crack just before a large hand comes out of nowhere and pushes it back closed.
I look up and Alexei’s standing over me, his muscular arm over my head as he leans against the door, holding it shut. Startled, I jump back. He’s got on his tuxedo, but without the jacket. He’s just in a vest and his dress shirt, and the sleeves are rolled up to his muscular forearms.
He looks… good. His beard is trimmed, and his blond hair is combed and gelled neatly in place. His forearms look like they could hold up tree trunks. He raises an eyebrow at me.
“Going somewhere?”
I’m stunned silent for a moment. I gather myself quickly and stammer, “I was just… I needed some air.”
He leans his shoulder against the door, his eyes surveying me slowly. “Air, huh?”
I nod. One side of his mouth turns up into a smile. It changes his face almost entirely. His eyes seem softer and the creases around his mouth suggest someone who might actually enjoy a good laugh.
“No sense starting this bullshit marriage on a lie,” he says, crossing his arms. “Where’s your bodyguard?”
“No idea,” I say, standing up a little taller. I stick my chest out instinctively and his eyes dart down to my cleavage. “Probably went to the bathroom or something. You can’t blame a girl for trying to make a getaway.”
“No, I guess I can’t.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds and it occurs to me that we’re both victims in this. Maybe I can appeal to his sense of fairness and get him to let me leave.
“So, you’re not thrilled about this arrangement either, I take it?”
The smile disappears. “How we feel about it is irrelevant. The deal’s done.”
“It doesn’t have to be. We don’t have to—”
“Save it, Isabella.”
The baritone in his voice hits me square in the chest and silences me. My heart jumps a little and a chill runs over my skin all at once. Three words out of his mouth and everything is emptied out of my brain.
“There are only two ways out of this building,” he says. “Through the sanctuary where our two families are gathering, and out there where our bridal party is waiting for our betrothal.”
I blink. “Betrothal. What do you mean ‘betrothal’? We’re already—”
“It’s a part of the ceremony,” he says. “My father was raised Orthodox, so parts of this wedding are going to be pretty traditional.”
I frown at him. I wasn’t told about any of this. But then, I guess a rehearsal was out of the question since our parents are trying to make this thing happen quickly. I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
“Someone should have said something. Do I have to do or say anything?”
“Just follow my lead. It’ll be fine.”
The door starts to move a little, so Alexei stops leaning on it and takes a step back. It opens all the way and the priest sticks his head through. He says something in Russian to Alexei and smiles at me. Alexei says something back to him and then the priest disappears behind the door.
He sticks his hand out to me. “Come on. Time to get this over with.”
The wedding was… well, it was a wedding. We did the whole ‘betrothal’ thing, which amounted to a kind of sacred ritual. Our wedding rings were blessed, the priest read scripture from the bible in Russian, and we were given lit candles to carry into the sanctuary with us.
And from there, we all walked into the sanctuary and got on with the rest of the ceremony.
It was sort of a blur that’s all kind of coming back to me as I sit here at the reception.
I do know that my very first thought was to the legality of the whole thing.
I mean, what does the law say about being married under duress? Is that even a thing?
I’m replaying it all in my mind, standing there next to a wall of a man.
The top of my head just reaches his shoulder.
It probably looked like he was marrying a child.
Most of the ceremony was in Russian. Alexei translated for me along the way, but who knows if anything he said was even for real.
God, I feel like I just signed up to join a circus and I just married one of the fucking bears.
At least the reception is modern. We’re in the basement of the church. There’s a DJ and tables decorated with white linen and flowers and people are drinking and dancing. I have no idea if there’s an open bar. I don’t know what flavor the cake is. I don’t even know who the DJ is.
I look over at Alexei who’s currently speaking to one of the bridegrooms, a guy with curly strawberry blond hair, bright smile, and big brown eyes. I forget his name, but I know he’s Anya’s brother.
I’ve never been married before, but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to feel like a visitor. I should have had some say in something. I didn’t even get to pick my own dress, for fuck’s sake.
An older woman walks up to the table. She takes my hand and starts talking to me, but I don’t understand a word.
Alexei stops talking to his cousin and looks over at her.
He doesn’t smile or really acknowledge her in any friendly way, but he does speak back to her in Russian.
She nods, then hands him an envelope before walking back to her table.
“What was all that about?” I ask him.
“She was wishing good luck in our marriage,” he says as he hands the envelope to his cousin. I watch his cousin take the envelope over to a large bag sitting at the end of the table. It’s gotta be the fiftieth one that he’s put in today.
I don’t bother asking what’s in the envelopes. I’m assuming it’s money. Some of my family members have been doing the same thing. I imagine that’s something else that was planned at some point without my knowledge. I’ll probably never know what’s in them.
“Attention, everyone! Attention, please!”
Suddenly, Alexei’s cousin stands up, drink in his hand. Right. This is the part where the best man gives a toast. What kind of toast could he give for a woman he’s never met?
“I’m not going to take up too much of your time,” he says. “I just want to congratulate the bride and groom today on their marriage…”
I look around and see people on both sides of the family watching in silence. A few of them are whispering to the older relatives, translating the speech for them.
And I am mortified. All these expectations for a marriage that isn’t even anything more than a contract. I’d do just about anything to leave right now.
“I won’t get too deep into things,” his cousin goes on, “but I will say that it’s about time that my dear cousin Alexei focused on something more than just work. And with a wife as beautiful as Isabella, I sincerely hope he loses all focus on everything else when he comes home at night.”
A cold sliver of horror runs up my spine. Oh, no.
I don’t know how I forgot all about that part of being married. Are we really going to have to sleep together? In the short time that we’ve been in each other’s company, Alexei has shown very little interest in me. I don’t think he even wants that.
We kissed during the ceremony, but it was just a quick pressing of lips.
Quick and clinical like a doctor shining a penlight up your nose or in your eyes.
It was absolutely nothing. I have no idea what sex would be like with him.
He looks like he’s going to drive me through the headboard.
He’s twice my size. I doubt I could fight him off if he forces himself on me.
The irony of the man who saved me from being raped a little over a month ago now about to become my potential rapist is more than I even care to contemplate.
I take in a few deep breaths to bring myself back to my rational mind. I can’t believe a man who would so readily come to my rescue would turn around and commit the same kind of crime. Even if it was for his family. In fact, he’ll probably let me off the hook.
I start chewing on my bottom lip, trying to force those thoughts out of my head. We don’t have to do anything tonight. It’s not like anybody would ever know.
I look over at him as he applauds his cousin’s speech. That half smile appears on his face again. As intimidating as he is, he’s still handsome. In another life, maybe we could have been something other than pawns in our parents’ wargames.
I take a sip of champagne and as I do, I notice that he hasn’t touched his. At least he’ll be sober tonight.