“My lawyer worked through the night,” he informs me, his hand carding through his thick black hair. “That’s the marriage license. This is a prenup. Everything’s in order, but feel free to read through the forms if you want.”
All I can do is stare at him.
“Sir,” I croak, and I’m blaming Oksana for this. She’s the one who’s been calling him that all damn day.
I hate the way he grins about it.
“Iosif,” he says, unbearably cocky, “is just fine, Janella.”
My fingers tremble as I pick up the marriage license. The legal jargon swims before my eyes, like ants in water. I can make out my name in bold lettering:Janella T. Driscoll.His name is beside it. There are lines where our signatures will go.
This can’t be happening.
“Iosif,” I try, doing my best to remain calm and steady. To not burst into any hysterical tears, which is all I feel like doing right now. “I—I’ve thought about it. I have really thought about what you said last night. And I am grateful for what you are offering me. I—You believe you are helping me. I see that. But this is… Marriage is…”
He says nothing at all. I have every bit of his attention.
It’s enough to make me barrel onward.
“If you let me leave—” His eyes narrow, and my words taper off. I switch lanes. “I could disappear. I could start somewhere else. You’d never have to see me again. You wouldn’t have to deal with this. I’m sure you have other things to do. Look at your suit, you’re obviously a very busy man!”
I flail my hands in the direction of his immaculate suit. The charcoal button-down shirt and pitch-black suit match my dress too well. Both are better for a funeral. I can’t stomach any of this. The very absurdity of it threatens to make my brain explode.
Iosif lets the silence grow heavy, till the weight of it is crushing to me.
He takes a seat right in front of me, on the edge of his desk. His fingers seize my jaw and raise my head to meet his gaze.
“Disappear where?” he asks.
My mouth opens to offer something.
Swiftly, he cuts me off. “With what money? What resources? What skills?”
“I could—”
“What?” he asks, and his laugh is cruel. “Go back to that father of yours? We both know he’ll sell you within the week now that he’s seen what you can rake in. Run to another city? You’d be dead or worse within the year.” He shakes his head at me, as if I’ve disappointed him. “This doesn’t have to be a cage for you, Janella. It can be an open door. Walk through it. I’m holding it open for you.”
Words fail me.
Iosif has all of them.
“The prenup is generous,” he adds, though he is already handing out a pen to me. “It gives you access to your own accounts. You will have access to some funds.”
I look at the glossy pen; its tip is stained with deep blue ink. The sight of it blurs when tears fill my eyes.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. What little girl doesn’t imagine her wedding day? I did. It may have been a very long time ago, back when I still had a mom and a real father before everything withered to ashes. I wanted a white dress and flowers in my hair. I wanted a man who looked at me with his love for me shining in his eyes.
This is a darkly furnished office full of strangers. I am in a black dress and boots, about to be tied to a man who purchased me like a purebred horse. It isn’t a wedding to him. It’s a transaction.
I can hear my heart breaking as I take the pen from his hand and scrawl my signature above the dotted line. He pulls out a second pen and signs alongside me.I can survive this.I signmy name on page after page.Be good, be quiet, be compliant. Obey. Survive.When we’re through with all the paperwork, the man beside the desk collects the documents.
He and Ivan huddle briefly around it. Then Ivan turns and claps Iosif on the back, huffing, “Congratulations, boss.”
“Thanks,” Iosif says, rolling his eyes.
I have to fight down the wave of nausea roiling through me. “Is there anything else?” I ask, my voice sounding hollow to my own ears.
Iosif looks to me as he dismisses his men, waiting till they are gone before he says, “Just one thing, yeah.”
