I walk close behind her, her scent seeping into my pores with every step she takes through the gaping crowd.
She smells sweet and floral, like lilies in the valley—pure and untouched, and completely oblivious to the kind of life I have in store for her. A life of crawling on her hands and knees with gags in her pretty mouth while her eyes beg me to fill her holes.
She’ll learn to bask in the darkness of her new cage, and I can’t wait to see how long before she breaks.
The soft fabric of her metallic-red dress pours along her sides and over her ass until it touches the floor. But her back is completely naked, only obscured by the collar I secured around her neck. My pretty jewel.
I’ve only been here for ten minutes and she’s already reinforcing my decision to marry her.
We make our way to the entrance, and no one says anything to interfere with my plans. If anything, they’re still holding their breath, waiting for me to leave, waiting to make sure they’re not being targeted as well.
Outside, a gentle rain splatters over the flowers’ petals in the garden, prickling the driveway with dark spots. The small but crisp breeze that comes with it causes goosebumps to erupt on Victoria’s back and arms. I let my arm fall to the small of her back, shielding her from the cold with my body.
I don’t want anything bad to happen to her until she officially becomes my wife.
I open the backseat door to the Rolls-Royce parked right up front, and she hauls her dress up a few inches before stooping to get in without a fuss. Ilia, my driver, steps in to open the door for me on the other side. But I raise my hand, rounding the car to do it myself and sit next to Victoria.
Hands in her lap, she stays silent with her gaze turned toward the stables. She hasn’t cried yet, and I can tell she’s holding it together as best she can, her eyes glossy and faraway.
I lean back in my seat, relaxing my head on the headrest as satisfaction settles within me. No point forcing her to talk now if she doesn’t want to. The worst is yet to come.
So I close my eyes, feeling the slight tremor of the car as Ilia drives us away.
5
VICTORIA
The car stops in the parking lot of a glass-covered building. What is this place? I thought he was taking me back to his house. Not knowing what he wants with me is driving me insane.
It was always going to be you. You know that.
He’s wrong. I have no idea what he’s talking about. Why did he change his mind? Why didn’t he want my sister, as per the original agreement?
I thought about the brief conversation we had a few months ago. Analyzed it to the smallest detail, but nothing particularly welcoming was said from either side. If anything, I told him to leave, that he was trespassing, and clearly showed him I didn’t want him there at all.
And yet he waited… waited for my birthday to choose me, and no one lifted a finger to save my life. I suck in a breath, swallowing back tears, because I can’t let him see through me again. It’s obvious the more weakness I show, the more he’ll take advantage of it. And I refuse to let him.
He gets out of the car first, opening the door for me on the other side.
“Where are we?” I ask, ignoring the hand he extends toward me.
I get out on my own, and he grabs the back of my neck like he did at my parents’ house. Showing the world he owns me. My pulse quickens, and maybe he feels that, because he swipes his thumb gently across my skin as if he’s trying to pacify me… or tell me I’m right to fear him.
I bite my lip to stop it from quivering and walk with him to the entrance. Once inside, a tall brunette wearing a skin-tight dress welcomes us—him—from behind a receptionist’s desk, a sultry smile plastered on her face. She spares me a quick glance, her lips subtly pursing before turning back up.
“Mr. Rykov, welcome,” she says. “How are you today? Dr. Stamos is ready for you.”
I twist in shock to look at him. “Doctor?”
His eyes lower to my height, acknowledging me, before choosing to ignore me. It makes me want to scream.
“Thank you,” he tells her, then points me to the left corridor, hand still on the back of my neck. We pass a few people sitting in the waiting area, and no one looks at us. They’re either on their phones or lost in thought, preoccupied with their own problems.
Nerves swarm in my belly, making my limbs tingle as if ants are scurrying up my veins. Without knocking, Wolfgang opens another door for me, and I swallow hard when I see what’s waiting on the other side.
“No,” I say, stepping back, only to collide with his hard body. “I’m not going in there.”
A man dressed in white—Dr. Stamos, I assume—gets up from his desk and walks toward us.
