Then he turns and walks away, disappearing into the depths of the house.
Mrs. Kozlov is still standing by the door, watching me with those unfeeling, judgmental eyes. “Come,” she says curtly. “I show you to your room.”
My legs are shaking as I follow her up the stairs and it takes everything in me to not fall flat on my face.
I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life.
Hours pass.
I sit in the massive bedroom (my bedroom now, I suppose) still wearing my wedding dress because I can’t bring myself to take it off. I can’t do anything but sit on the edge of this enormous bed and wait.
Wait for what I know is coming.
The room is beautiful in an impersonal way. Expensive furniture, silk curtains, a bed that could fit four people.
Everything is done in shades of cream and gold, tasteful and elegant and completely devoid of warmth.
It looks like a hotel room, not a place where someone actually lives.
There’s no trace of personality here. No photographs, no personal items, nothing that would tell me who this room belonged to before me. If anyone.
I’m not naive. I understand what consummating a marriage means. I’ve been with Alexei, obviously, since I’m pregnant.
We made love dozens of times over the eight months we were together and they were sweet, gentle encounters where he made me feel cherished and wanted.
This won’t be like that.
The thought of Dimitri touching me, of being intimate with a man who looks at me with such hatred, makes my stomach twist with dread. And yet...
There’s something else beneath the fear.
During the ceremony, when we were standing so close, I couldn’t help but notice things.
The dark cologne that somehow fit him perfectly.
The heat radiating off his body.
The way his suit jacket strained across his broad shoulders.
And when he kissed me…
It was brutal, yes, and meant to humiliate, not celebrate. But there was something else in it too.
Something that made unwanted desire flash through me despite the coldness of it.
The way his hand gripped my chin, strong and commanding.
The pressure of his mouth against mine.
The brief moment when I felt his lips part slightly, tasted the hint of?—
No. I can’t think about that. I can’t acknowledge that my body responded to him in any way, even for a second. It’s a betrayal of Alexei’s memory, and of everything I’m supposed to feel.
I’m supposed to hate this man. I’m supposed to be repulsed by him.
But my body apparently didn’t get that memo.
I hear footsteps in the hallway. Heavy, deliberate footsteps that can only belong to one person.
