I remove a photograph from my breast pocket and hand it to her. She looks at it and I see the color drain from her face.
“Nana,” she whispers.
Nana. Otherwise known as Greta Whitman. The neighbor who raised Holly after her parents died. She’s currently residing in a nursing home in Seattle.
Holly’s eyes snap up to mine, and if I thought I'd seen fire in her before, it's nothing compared to what burns there now.
This is something primal and protective. A lioness baring her teeth.
"Keep her out of this.” The words are spoken as a warning. “Whatever you want from me, fine. But you leave her alone. She has nothing to do with any of this."
"Then don't make me involve her in it." I keep my voice steady, letting the threat settle between us.
I don't elaborate. I don’t need to. I can see it written all over her face.
The realization. The hatred.The submission.
“If I go along with this sham of a marriage, do you swear she’s not in danger?”
“The only crime against Nana will be that she missed out on your happy day,” I say.
“Say you swear it,” she demands.
She looks at me with pure hatred. Like she's memorizing exactly where to place the knife when she finally gets the chance.
“If you marry me, Nana doesn’t need to know anything. She’ll be safe. You have my word.”
Holly scoffs but doesn’t bite.
So I add, “But I expect you to be more accommodating and less stubborn. Stop fighting me at every turn.”
“You expect me to be submissive, you mean.”
“Yes.”
She huffs out a breath and looks away. "Fine. But if I get out of this alive, I'm just going to have it annulled."
Holly follows me into the great room where Father Dominic waits with Dmitri and Alexei.
Father Dominic has known me since I was a boy. Before I became the man that might be beyond saving.
He approaches us, his smile gentle as always. "Nikolai Morozov," he says, his voice affectionate. "It has been quite some time since I've seen your face in church."
"I know, Father." I incline my head respectfully. "I will have to rectify that."
"Indeed." His gaze shifts to Holly, softening further. "And you, my dear, must be the future Mrs. Morozov. My congratulations.”
“Thank you, Father,” Holly says almost shyly.
“Now before we start, I must ask if you are certain about this union?"
I can feel Holly's hesitation. For a moment, I think she might refuse and force my hand into showing just how far I'm willing to go.
But she seems to soften under his gaze. "Yes, Father."
"Then let’s begin, shall we?" Father Dominic gestures for us to join him beside the fireplace.
I position myself beside Holly. She doesn't look at me. Just stares straight ahead like she's willing herself to be anywhere else.
