Page 9 of Betrayal and Vows

“I have to go. He’s waiting. I just wanted to show up and give you a hug. We’re here for you. Text me and I don’t care what I have to do—if you need backup, I will save you.”

I offer her a smile and hope I look stronger than I feel.

“I’m glad you came,” I whisper, pulling her into another hug. “Thank you.”

She squeezes me once more. “I hope you find a way out.”

Her voice is so low, I barely hear the forbidden words. She may have found her own way out, but she knows the rules. She would never openly defy the rules we live by in our dark underworld. When I look into her eyes, I know she means it.

“I love you,” I whisper.

I walk her to the edge of the section where one of my fiancé’s guards stands.

Anastasia turns and puts her hand on my upper arm. “Don’t do that. Don’t say goodbye. This is not over. I know you, Lena Rostova. Kick ass. Fight back. And do it wearing four-inch heels.”

That makes me laugh. “I will try.”

“You willdo.”

The guard glances at Anastasia and quickly looks away. Everyone knows her husband will happily kill anyone that looks at his woman too long. I watch her fade into the crowd with my heart squeezing. I don’t know if or when I’ll see her again. I’m certain my husband will keep me locked away for the first few years of our marriage. I will be in “training.” He will be doing his best to break me. To make me a compliant wife. He’ll make sure I have at least two of his children. And only then will I be allowed some freedom.

I force my smile and turn back to my friends. I grab a glass of champagne and decide getting drunk is the only way to getthrough the next two weeks. Maybe that will make my future husband reject me. Girls dance on tables, glitter clings to every surface, and someone orders a round of shots named after mafia bosses. I down mine without asking questions.

Kira flops onto the plush blue couch beside me. I’m finally feeling a little buzzed. My worries are there but they have taken a back seat.

"Tell me the truth,” Kira says with a dramatic sigh. “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to run?"

I sip my drink. “One-hundred.”

She exhales, leaning her head on my shoulder. "I’m so sorry, Lena."

“It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. We’re all here, celebrating, but?—”

"Because that’s what we do, right?" I cut in. "Smile. Dance. Pretend like it’s not happening."

Kira also knows me marrying Mikhail Orlov is a mistake with deadly consequences. She may not know all the reasons, but she knows enough.

She looks at me, expression sober despite the alcohol. “A lot of arranged marriages work out, you know.”

I snort. "Sure. So do hostage situations. Eventually, the hostage stops fighting. What’s that called…"

"Lena."

"No. It's fine. I’ll play the part. Wear the dress. Kiss the ring. Smile for the cameras. I'll be a perfect little ornament for my husband's empire. My father will be connected to the most powerful family in Russia. He’ll be happy. My mother will be happy. Everyone will be happy."

“Except you,” she says softly.

“Ah, but who cares.” I shrug. “I have boobs, vagina and a uterus. That’s all that counts.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but I stand up before she can say anything else. I can’t take one more pitying look. Not from her. Not from anyone.

“I need to pee,” I lie.

“Lena.”

It’s a warning.