I count the days in my head, Tuesday today makes it five days.
“I’ll have the contract sent up,” I add, because if I keep looking at her like this, I will press her against the nearest surface and make a liar of myself. “And tomorrow, we marry, you will be a virgin bride, and you will be full of my cum by the end of the night. You’ll be pregnant before the end of the week.”
Then, because I can’t stop myself, I lean down. Just close enough that she feels every word against her mouth.
“Don’t be late.”
I walk away before I ruin the plan entirely.
Charlotte
I stare at my reflection like the glass might tell me what the hell I’m doing.
Yesterday, I was scrubbing bathtubs. Today, I’m a bride.
A bride.
My hands are shaking so much that the beaded lace around my wrists trembles. The dress the housekeeper reluctantly helped me into is stunning in its simplicity. Pieced together overnight by the dressmaker. Pure white satin that catches the light like moonwater. But it isn’t me. It’s too pretty. Too elegant. I would have chosen something plainer. Something that didn’t make me look like I’m pretending to be someone else.
But I am pretending.
The housekeeper made sure to remind me I have no business wearing something so fine. That yesterday I was staff, and today I’m… what? A contract? A vessel?
She practically hissed when Mr. Dubovich’s assistant escorted me to guest quarters and stripped me of my uniform and security badge. By the time I changed into this dress, she had already told half the staff in icy whispers that I’d “slept my way above my station.”
I suppose she’s half right. Will be whole right by the end of today.
I close my eyes and breathe slowly, counting the air in time with my heartbeat like a meditation app once taught me. It doesn’t help. My heart still feels like it’s bouncing off my ribs trying to escape.
A soft knock comes at the door. I think I’ll be sick.
It’s Sophia Dubovicha. The Pakhan’s wife.
She peeks her head around the frame, brown hair pulled up, cheeks glowing with a calm I could never possess. She looks like warmth personified. Like safety. I cling to the sight of her like a lifeline.
“Hey, Charlotte, you okay?” she asks gently.
A broken little laugh escapes me. “Define okay.”
She slips inside and shuts the door behind her. “You’re getting married. That’s… a lot.”
“You did this,” I remind her, voice small. “You married Yuri. And you didn’t know him either.”
Her eyes soften. “I was nervous, but I had time to get to know him before we married.” She reaches out, lightly touches my arm. “But now I can’t imagine life any other way.”
Work your magic, Charlotte. Pretend you’re not drowning.
“Well,” I whisper. “It’s only for fifteen months.”
She squeezes my hand. “Vitali… he’s intense, but he’s fair. Protective. He’ll look after you.”
My stomach flips. Protective isn’t the issue. He looks at me like I’m already his, and we haven’t even made the marriage vows yet.
A car horn sounds outside.
“It’s time,” Sophia says.
I nod, but my knees forget how to function for a moment. Sophia loops her arm through mine, steadying me.
