Page 83 of Beautiful Cruelty

"He will. Vadim has always wanted to do the right thing." Irina's fingers still on the fabric. She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. "He's trying to prove something to someone. About what he is... and what he isn't."

The way she says it makes my chest tighten.

"Of all the sad and cruel stories these walls bear witness to, hers was the saddest and cruelest of them all. Please, for the sake of both yourself and Vadim Petrovich, don't ask him to repeat it."

"Is it his mom?" The words slip out before I can stop them. “I keep hearing hints at this terrible story about her. And after what you just told me. I can't imagine what kind of horrors she experienced."

Irina's hands freeze on my dress. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken truths. Her emerald eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I see worry flash across her face.

"Some wounds run too deep to expose to light, Lacey. Let him tell you in his own time. On his own terms. If he ever choosesto." She returns to adjusting the hem, but her movements are sharper now, less graceful. "You should try on the dress. We have work to do."

The silk whispers against my skin as Irina helps me step into the wedding dress. My mind keeps circling back to what she revealed, about the horrors that happened in Pankration's halls.

But above all, I can't stop thinking about the story of Vadim's mother.

The pieces are there, forming a dark picture I can't see.

A picture that I don't know if I'm ready to see.

"You think very loudly," Irina observes, adjusting the train. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Sorry. I just..." I bite my lip, swallowing the questions Iwantto ask. "I'm just thinking about what we'll need to do next."

"We'll get to that." She meets my eyes in the mirror as her fingers work at the buttons. "Does the bodice feel too tight?"

"No, it's perfect." I study my reflection, trying to focus on the dress rather than the questions burning in my throat. The beading catches the light, transforming me into something ethereal and otherworldly. Someone worthy of standing beside a pakhan.

No, not someone worthy of standing next to a pakhan.

Someone worthy of standing next to Vadim.

My hand drifts to touch the delicate necklace he gave me, the one that reminds me of Mom's. He'd promised to help me get the original back. Just like he helped Irina and her father.

From the corner of my eye, I spot Irina reach over and grab a bible off a bookshelf.

"There is a hidden pocket in the silhouette of your dress." Irina explains as she slips the bible through the pocket.

I feel it dropping into the folded material. But in the mirror, the dress doesn't change in shape at all. A flutter of hope rushes through my heart.

"Holy shit." I breathe. "I think this could work."

"It will." Irina reaches forward and makes another minor adjustment, tugging at the fabric. "I'm sure of it. Now come, we need to practice the swap."

I nod, but uncertainty gnaws at my insides.

As much as my own worries about what awaits us in Paris, as much as my heart bleeds for Irina and her suffering, I can't stop wondering about Vadim.

What kind of monsters did he grow up with? What other horrors shaped him into the man he is now?

What horrors continue to shape him?

And why does the thought of knowing his pain make me want to protect him, even as I try desperately to remind myself this marriage is anything but real?

24

LACEY

I stepout of the fitting room, and my breath catches. Vadim is leaning against the wall, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, suit jacket discarded. His storm-gray eyes darken as they sweep over me, and heat rushes through my body at his intense gaze.

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