I managed my curls so that they hang gently past my shoulders. I did my face up with soft colors around my cheeks and eyes, but my lips are fire engine red. I smile, watching the heart shape of them turn up at the sides.
Papa is going toflip. Good. Maybe he’ll make me stay home and I can sneak out. This whole plan is a win-win for me.
“Tatiana!” I hear through my door. “It’s time to go! The car is here!”
I snicker to myself and grab the matching clutch. “Coming!”
Out of my room and to the stairs. I start the spiral walk to the bottom, holding my dress so that I don’t trip over the hem. I glance up at my father and my heart sinks. He’s not even paying attention. He’s looking down at his phone. When I get to the last step, I say, “Ready, Papa.”
“Good.” He glances up at me, then back to his phone… then he looks back up at me. I watch as his face turns, his brow furrows, and his jaw clenches. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
I look down innocently at the dress. “What do you mean? This is the dress that you had made for?—”
“That isnotthe fucking dress I had made for you. Go back upstairs and put on the right dress.”
“This is the right dress,” I tell him. “I just made some adjustments, that’s all.”
He glares at me for an eternity, and I know the wheels are turning behind his eyes. Does he believe me? And if he does, which path does he choose? Drag me back upstairs and lock me away, or let it go so we can leave already?
I watch him look away, grinding his teeth. He stalks over to the coat rack and grabs one of his old jackets. “Put this on.”
I take it from him and raise my eyebrow at him. “I’m not putting this on.”
“I will rip you out of that dress and throw you out on the street naked,” he growls at me. “Put it the fuck on.”
I do. Well, I swing it over my shoulders.
“Let’s go.”
We leave the house, and as I walk down to the waiting car, I smile to myself. Guess he can’t always tell me what to do.
ThankGod they’re serving booze at this reception. This whole night has been dreadfully boring. But the worst part is that I’ve yet to even see Viktor.
Which means I ruined this stupid dress for nothing. Well. Notnothing. My father’s still pretty pissed at me.
The jacket he made me wear is hanging on the back of my chair as I watch the dancefloor from the table we’ve been assigned to. He’s off talking to family members and I’m just… sitting here. There are a lot of good-looking men here who have been giving me the eye all night. Too bad they all know who my father is. Not a single one has the balls to come up to me and ask me to dance.
I take a drink of champagne and watch as my cousin laughs with her new husband at their table. Lucky her. Marrying the man of her dreams or… whatever. I don’t actually know what the story is there. I overheard a few things from aunts and uncles around about them meeting at her nursing job, but that’s about it. Must be nice to live a normal life. I wouldn’t know anything about that.
I glance down at my phone. With the actual wedding and the reception, I’ve been trapped among the guests for almost four hours now. I’moverit.
I finish my champagne and get up to go to the bathroom. The moment I move, I see my father’s face turn to slate, but he doesn’t say anything or make any moves toward me. Good. The last thing I need is him following me to the bathroom.
The bathrooms are located just outside the hall we’re in. Well, down the hall and to the left, specifically. I step out into the hallway and immediately get hit with a chill from the door up front. Somebody must have just come in.
I make my way down the hallway, the click-clack of my shoes bouncing off the walls as the music from the reception vibrates the walls. I swear when I get home, I’m calling Marla?—
I’m grabbed around my waist suddenly and pulled backward. I go to scream and a hand comes up and covers my mouth.
“Shut the fuck up,” a gruff voice says against my cheek. “We’re going to do this nice and easy, Tatiana. Nice and easy.”
A cold dread comes over me. They know my name!
He breathes in deep as he presses his face against my hair. “You smell good. Real good. Walk to the bathroom, nice and calm.”
I can’t believe this is happening. I survived in Amsterdam every night in little more than a G-string without getting raped or molested and now some asshole is about to do it at my cousin’s wedding?
“Don’t do this,” I try to say behind his hand. He jerks his hand, pressing it hard against my mouth.
