Page 34 of Forced Marriage Vows

Anastasia

My brother heads back to L.A. two days after his arrival. He promised he’d be back in time for the wedding. Which we all seem to have accepted is happening.

Leah’s by my side on my bed, going through wedding dresses that I can order and have shipped in time for the ceremony. It’s bizarre and I’m treading the line between overwhelmed and terrified.

On some level, a part of me has come to accept it as well. That I’ll be getting married to Mikhail Morozova. And I have to give him some credit because he’s gone out of his way to make me comfortable enough that I’m not actively fighting against him anymore.

It’s hopeless anyway. The only person that could possibly save me is my father and he hasn’t even tried to contact me once since everything went down. Which means he’s leaving me to my fate. It hurts a little, but I’d rather he was safe.

I can take care of myself. And this wedding to Mikhail isn’t the death sentence I was terrified it was going to be.

“Stop thinking about it so much, Stassy,” Leah cautions, drawing my attention.

“I wasn’t,” I lie.

“But you were, and dwelling on it isn’t going to change things. Unless you let me help you, of course.”

I smile. “And how would you do that?”

“We could go to my father,” she says, bringing up the argument she’s been pressing since yesterday when she arrived.

Her father’s an extremely wealthy businessman who works with the Bratva. He’s not in it, but he does provide assistance to them occasionally and vice versa. It’s how we met.

“That’s sweet, Leah. But like I keep telling you, there’s nothing he can do.”

She frowns. “It sounds like you’re giving up.”

“I’m just trying to make sure no one gets hurt.”

“Okay, fine. But if you’re going to get married, we have to make sure you’re the hottest bride in existence,” she says, picking up her phone again. “Hot enough that when Morozova sees you walking down the aisle, he’ll be so blinded by your beauty that he’ll refuse to marry you.”

I laugh. “If only we could be so lucky.”

She shows me some of the wedding dress options on her phone and we finally settle on a Vera Wang that’ll hug my waist before flowing down like a ball gown. The top half is a little sheer but modest enough for church, and the sleeves are lace. It’s perfect. If this was a wedding I actually wanted, I’d be much more excited to put it on.

“I will say, he’s not as bad as I thought he was going to be,” Leah says suddenly.

“Who?”

“Mikhail. You made him out to be a monster, but he’s been perfectly nice to me. And he made us breakfast this morning. No guy who cooks could ever be a bad guy.”

I pause. That’s the problem with Mikhail. I can’t tell if this is all an act. He’s doing all of this with a goal in mind, and Ican’t tell if it’s genuine. All I know is that it’s making it hard to remember why I shouldn’t trust him.

“I think it’s because he wants us to like him. But that doesn’t mean we have to,” I tell my best friend.

“Hey, if I had to pick a man to be forced into a marriage with, he wouldn’t be a bad choice. Look on the bright side—your future husband is probably one of the sexiest men alive.”

I wish she wouldn’t remind me about that. I think back to our workout yesterday, my mind flashing to the way he looked lifting those weights. His muscles bulging and the sweat dripping from his shoulders. I have never been more turned on in my life than I was watching Mikhail work out and it was jarring.

What was even worse was that he noticed me looking at him. And it was embarrassing when he called me out on it. Sexy or not, he’s still a jerk.

“Whatever. Can we focus on the task at hand please?” I ask, wanting to think about anything but Mikhail.

Which is hard because he’s all I seem to think about these days.

In my nightmares, there’s a man without a face. And he’s strangling a woman to death on a table. I don’t know old I am. I don’t even know where I am. All I know is that the woman is in pain and begging for her life. She struggles and fights, but he doesn’t stop. He’s enjoying it.

When she finally falls still, he grabs a handkerchief and wipes his hands before starting to turn around. The menace in the air is palpable and I know without a doubt that this man is pure evil. There’s nothing right about him. He’s turning around when I wake up with a short gasp. I never get to see his face, buthe always somehow manages to instill enough fear in me that I can’t fall back asleep after the dream.

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