The word echoes what Gennady said. Untouchable.
Except I don't feel untouchable. I feel like I'm drowning and the only solid thing to grab onto is a man I barely know who kisses me like he's trying to brand his name onto my soul.
"Come on." Mila stands, pulling me up with her. "We have a wedding to prepare for."
The next two hours blur together in a way that makes my head spin.
Marie appears with an efficiency that suggests she's been waiting for exactly this kind of crisis. She takes one look at me,makes a sound that could be approval or concern, and pulls out a note pad and pencil from her apron pocket.
"Your measurements?" she asks without looking back at me.
I rattle them off, feeling weirdly exposed even though I'm fully clothed.
Marie makes a humming sound as she marches the few steps towards me and raises a questioning eyebrow.
I nod.
She pulls at the hoody, revealing the shape of my body beneath, the pencil bobbing between her lips as she leans back to get a better view.
"Perfect," she says around the pencil before releasing me. "I will have options for you in less than an hour."
She leaves, shouting for someone called Anita to set the sewing machine up and I frown.
"It will be for alterations," Mila says with a grin as another person I’ve never met waltzes into the room. "Next up, hair and make-up."
Mila has had us situated in one of the downstairs rooms, a parlour of sorts with lush sofas in peachy tones, a mirror and vanity have been set up which is where she leads me now, and there’s an antique screen, parting a corner of the room for me to change behind.
Julian, the stylist, gets to work immediately, setting up his couch and encouraging me to lie back and relax. Mila pulls the curtains almost totally closed to dim the light and someone puts relaxing music on.
I relax into the luxury of it, while Mila and Julian talk "wedding looks" and then the curtains are being pulled apart again as I’m being ushered into the chair in front of the mirror.
Julian is halfway through taming my hair into a fancy up-do when Marie arrives with who I presume is Anita, and several garment bags draped over their arms.
The first dress is beautiful but wrong, too much lace, too virginal, too bridal in a way that feels like I'm playing dress-up in someone else's fantasy.
The second is better. Sleek and elegant, too elegant for someone like me.
The third is simple. Classic. Beautiful in a way that doesn't feel like I'm trying too hard to be something I’m not. It’s still white, but softer somehow. Pleats gather from the centre of the sweetheart neckline into arm bands that rest just off shoulder.
"That's the one," I say to the room. I don’t even need to see the rest.
Marie nods once handing the other dresses to Anita who carries them from the room. She returns with several shoe options. All of them beautiful.
"All done," Julian says with a flourish and a smile. I turn back to the mirror and gasp at my reflection.
"Oh—" is all I manage.
"Oh indeed, my darling," he says. "Your groom is a very lucky man."
It’s all happening so fast as I’m ushered behind the screen by Marie who helps me into the gown while Mila gets her hair and make-up done by Julian, who tells her not to worry about the bruise, because he can work magic.
Gennady
The moment I close the bedroom door behind me; I'm already reaching for my phone.
I have three hours. Maybe four if I stretch it. But I know myself well enough to know that once I have Matilda legally bound to me, I'm not waiting another goddamn minute to make her mine in every other way that matters.
First call goes to Judge Vardy.
