“Thank you,” I say faintly.
This is so surreal. I’m sitting in a proper old library with a butler named Miss Kevin and a charcuterie board.
By the time the door opens again, my feet are propped up on the coffee table and I’ve made substantial inroads into the snacks. My father put me on a fast three days ago because the dressmaker said I’d gained weight and couldn’t fit into my wedding dress. She was lying, she just hated me for… I don’t know, being me, I guess. She’d stuck pins into my skin while pretending to fit me for the dress until I told her the next one was going through her nose to use as an impromptu piercing.
“Made yourself at home, I see.” Cameron is looking at me like I’m a mess his puppy left behind.
“There’s still some of those chocolate-covered almonds if you want,” I shrug.
“I’m fine.” He checks his watch, a nice stainless steel Patek Philippe. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up?”
I huff out a furious little laugh. “Getting dropped out of a window and thrown into a van doesn’t help a girl look her best.Sosorry.”
Ignoring me, he steps out into the hallway. “There’s a bathroom to the right. You have ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes for what?” He didn’t answer me, shutting the library door behind him.
When I came back, I’d managed to brush the worst of the snarls and the crushed flower petals out of my hair and washed my face and hands. Most of my fancy bride makeup had already smeared off my face at some point.
He isn’t alone, there’s another man with him, graying hair and a look of faint disapproval, and he has a priest’s collar.
“Morana.” It’s the first time Cameron has used my name. “This is Father Barclay. He’s here to marry us.”
Chapter Four
In which we were incorrect. THIS is the worst wedding ever.
Cameron…
I watch with a certain amount of satisfaction as the blood drains from the Ivanova girl’s face, leaving her sheet white.
“What?”she wheezes, swaying a little.
“Father Barclay is my family’s priest,” I say patiently, “he’s here to marry us.”
She’s looking between him and me, taking deep, heaving breaths and it’s doing some nice things for her breasts, swelling enticingly over the top of that ridiculous gown.
“If he’s your family’s priest, then you can’t kill him if I ask for help.”
Damn the girl.
“Father, this man kidnapped me! I don’t want to be here!” Morana’s eyes are wide, trying to appeal to him, her tone sweet and desperate, like I’m about to throw her into an alligator pit. “Please, help me get out of here. He kidnapped me from my wedding!”
With a sigh, Father Barclay folds his hands in front of him. “My child, did you truly wish to marry Vadik Stepanov?”
She wasn’t expecting that.
“I beg your pardon?”
Gently taking her elbow, he guided her to the sofa, sitting across from her. “I know something of your story. Vadik Stepanov is a curse against mankind. He steals and sells souls into slavery all over the world. Do you wish to be married to him?”
Her pretty pink mouth is trying to form words, and it’s oddly titillating. “Well- no, of course not! I know he’s a monster. But if I don’t…” Morana shudders, a full-body tremble that seems involuntary. “My father. Well… he’ll…”
“Aye, I’ve heard of your father, too,” he says grimly. “While I canna’ say that Cameron has made this the best of beginnings,” he narrows his eyes at me, “his intentions are sincere. If you marry him, your safety is guaranteed.”
“Vadik Stepanov will never forgive this insult,” she says wearily. “You don’t understand what you’ve set off here. He will come after you with everything he’s got. This puts your family in danger, too. The MacTavish Mafia. Yes,” she nodded at my raised brow, “I figured out the significance of your last name. You’re powerful. Your family has connections in Russia. But not with my father’s Bratva. Why are you doing this?”
“That’s not your concern,” I say coldly. “You have a choice. Marry me and enjoy the security of my family name, or I’ll just keep you as a whore.”
