I don’t need to. Because at that moment, just as I’m about to burst into tears, my father walks into the room with his whole entourage of guards.
Thank God.
Even I can see that this is the only way out of the situation — brute force.
Aleksandr is one man. He may be a monster, but my father and his men could easily restrain him and stop him from whatever it is he’s threatening. We’re on home territory, for God’s sake.
I widen my eyes at him, mouthing: “This is Aleksandr Zhukov.”
The guards studiously avoid my gaze the way they always do. They barely glance at Aleksandr Zhukov, either.
Instead, it’s me that they walk up to and surround.
My father takes my arm in his, our elbows linked together just like they were earlier this morning. A lifetime ago. Before I looked my brother’s killer in the eyes. Before I — God help me — shivered under his rough touch.
The words out of his mouth make me want to shove him away. Instead, my body goes heavy and frozen.
“Did Zhukov explain the situation to you?”
My papa knows about this.
I try to pull my arm out of his but he grips me tighter. He leans close and hisses in my ear.
“No time for you to pull one of your little tricks — and it wouldn’t work even if you did. You have to marry this man, Natalia.”
My blood runs cold.
I see something I hadn’t seen on my father’s face in a long time, since I was a child. Fear.
I still as it hits me why this is different.
This isn’t a union between two families, an exchange the way my previous engagements had been.
There is no give and take. There is only take.
And Aleksandr Zhukov is taking me.
5
LEKS
The thing is interminable. Three hours of rites that didn’t make sense centuries ago and certainly haven’t become any more interesting in the interim.
Candles. Rings. Prayers. Crowns.
All I’m waiting for is for Natalia to say two words, myself to do the same, and instead there’s a priest talking for hours.I go through with it, because it’s my ticket to power, but every second I become a little more restless.Years of hard labor in Siberia have made me bad at staying still.
The only part that’s bearable is Natalia. I can see why the potential suitors have been lining up, even with her reputation for wedding-day embarrassment.I wouldn’t have cared if she was ugly, obviously.This whole thing isn’t about her, it’s about taking everything Maksim Bryusov has.
Not that she’s my type. Not at all. Too delicate, too high-maintenance.A fragile, pretty thing with no real purpose, like all the paintings her family deal in. The softest part of theBratva you could be involved in. They’re more of a museum foundation than a crime family.
The silk and lace of that wedding dress must have cost enough to feed a family for years. The thought makes my stomach churn. I know what it’s like to go hungry, I’ve always known, and the Bryusovs would have no fucking idea about that.Still, maybe the way the ridiculous dress pushes her breasts up together and sweeps over her waist is worth it.
I imagine that standing on your wedding altar fantasizing about titty-fucking your bride is frowned upon in the Russian Orthodox Church. Never was a believer, though.
The only part of the ceremony that I really pay attention to is the kiss.
Something about touching Natalia wakes me up. Probably because it’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid.
