“Good.” I try to smile so she’ll hear it. “Keep doing that.”
Sam slurps from her cup. Coconut water, if I had to guess. “How’re things at Red Bird’s? Did you ever talk to your boss about those new shifts? What about that artist co-working space you mentioned? Tell me everything.”
Sadly, I can’t. I can’t tell her about how I lost my job or about how my life is now divided intoBefore AlexeiandAfter Alexei. Nor about the fact that next week, I’m supposed to marry a man who terrifies me, even as a not-so-small, mutinous corner of my heart craves him.
I fish around for the right explanation. “Red Bird’s is…complicated.” Not a lie, just not enough truth to drown me.
“Speaking of complicated, what’s up with your boyfriend?”
Boyfriend.
How do I explain to my little sister that I’m marrying this man in a week to save us both from meeting an unsavory demise? I can’t, so I skip that part completely. “He’s supportive.”
Sam huffs out a dreamy sigh. “Of course he is. The good ones always are. Is he hot under that leather jacket? I bet he’s freaking hot. I mean, his face is, so I can only imagine the rest of him is.”
I snort. “He’s…insanely hot. And a little terrifying.” I hesitate. “He got me into an art show.”
She squeals so loudly that I have to yank the phone away from my ear, then she demands that I confess more. After I fill her in, she hums. “Are you bringing him to the show?”
“I don’t know.” I want to tell her that I’m scared. That I don’t know what’s happening to me. That I’m being pulled apart by something so much bigger than either of us. But I can’t. She’s the only thing in my world still untouched by this awful mess, and I refuse to ruin that for her. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” I mean it with every atom of my being.
“I love you too, Rory. Can’t wait to see you kick ass at your show.”
After she hangs up, I sit in the dark and attempt to envision a future where I’m not a disaster on two legs waiting to implode the lives of everyone I care about.
Eight days. Then I’ll belong to Alexei on paper. Legally. Like a piece of real estate or a stray dog.
I should be plotting an escape. Searching for a new job. I should be doing anything except lying here like a worthless lump, wishing for a different life.
And yet, despite everything, I want him. I long to trust him and for him to want me. But if experience has taught me anything, the next disaster’s always lurking right around the corner, waiting for me to drop my guard. I can’t be caught by surprise if I’m always expecting the worst.
Life is just a series of explosions. All I can do is hope to survive the fallout.
Chapter 36
Aurora
I’m watching someone else’s wedding through foggy glass. The bride resembles me, but I don’t recognize her. Her hair is too perfect, her makeup too flawless. The white dress she wears is new, a compromise between the puffy gown Irina selected and the sleek style I never had a chance to view.
The sleeveless, strapless gown hugs my body all the way down to my knees before flaring out in a tulle explosion. The crystal and lace-laden princess-like effect seems out of place for a woman who pieces together broken things.
I shake my head, attempting to yank my mind free of the haze. This can’t be my wedding. My wedding would include wildflowers and fairy lights, not crystal chandeliers and armed guards at every door.
This is Alexei and Roman’s wedding. A Bratva extravaganza in which I simply play a starring role. Just yesterday, I sat and drank coffee with my sister, chatting and laughing as if today would never happen. As if I weren’t about to walk down the aisle without my only family in attendance.
My heart twists. I wish she were here.
“Hold still.” Irina fastens another pearl-tipped pin into my updo. Her fingers move with practiced efficiency, like she’s done this a thousand times. “You’re a beautiful bride.”
“Thank you.” The words are automatic as I stare at my reflection.
I resemble an expensive doll someone dressed up for a tea party. The gown alone probably costs more than my entire wardrobe. My grandma’s cross necklace is the only proof that the pale, wide-eyed woman in the mirror is me.
“Five minutes.” A man’s voice drifts through the closed door. One of Alexei’s people.
