Page 35 of Craving Dahlia

Evelyn emerges a moment later, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “You heard most of that?” I guess, and she nods.

“I’ll tell Dimitri,” she says. “And then it’s time to make sure you have the best wedding we can throw together.”

—

I don’t haveany real desire to make anything out of this wedding, but I know Evelyn is trying to repay what I did for her when she agreed to marry Dimitri—when I made sure that she had a gorgeous wedding dress and everything that could make the day as good as it could possibly be for her.

The week after the decision is made passes in a whirlwind. Dimitri is clearly pleased that Alek has stepped up, and promises me that as a part of the Yashkov family now, everything I needwill be taken care of. I can’t pretend that it’s not a relief to hear that, when everything is so uncertain, but what I didn’t think about until Evelyn brings it up is that I’m going to have to move into the mansion sooner rather than later.

“You have three days before you’re supposed to be out,” she says, giving me a sympathetic look. “You might as well go ahead and move in here, rather than waiting and going to a hotel, or something. It’s not as if you and Alek are going to share a bedroom after the wedding, anyway.”

It hits me that that’s true—another strange part of this ‘marriage’. I won’t share a room or a bed or a life with my new husband…just a child, and I can’t begin to imagine how that will work out. But, I remind myself, if it doesn’t work—if he’s as terrible at being a father as he seems to be at being a person, generally, then I can leave. I can takemybaby, and go, and I doubt he’d even try to come after us.

“I’ll send over as much help as you need to move,” Dimitri promises, and he does just that. Getting me out of my apartment is a flurry of activity over the next two days, so much so that there’s hardly any time for me to let myself be sad over it, which is a blessing in disguise. Evelyn helps me pack, and there’s a never-ending stream of Dimitri’s men who come in and out of my apartment, carrying boxes down to a waiting van that will take them to the mansion, or to another van that will take what I want to donate to a local charity—things like my dishes and cookware that I won’t need any longer.

It feels almost dream-like, like I’ve been snatched out of my own reality and thrust into someone else’s. It’s not until Evelyn shows me to my room on the second floor of the mansion that it hits me, as I step inside, and I feel my throat tighten with tears that I try very hard to not let fall.

“Alek’s room is towards the back of this floor,” she says as we step inside. “I asked the staff to make up this room for you so there’d be as much space between the two of you as possible.”

“Thanks,” I manage, looking around as I take it all in. The room itself is beautiful. It has a large window that overlooks the gardens to one side of the mansion—currently just beginning to bloom with April flowers—and a soft-looking armchair next to it with a throw blanket over the back. The furniture is all dark, carved wood, the bed, nightstand, vanity and wardrobe all matching, and the floor is a wood that’s a few shades darker still, with a large blue and white rug stretched over the middle of it. There’s a four-poster bed made up all in white, with an embroidered lace duvet and piles of pillows, and a door on the far side that I assume leads to a bathroom. It’s luxurious and beautiful, even with the boxes piled along the walls and on one side from my apartment that all need to be unpacked, and I know Evelyn went to a lot of trouble to try to make me feel at home here.

But I can’t help feeling trapped, all the same. I press my hand against my still-flat stomach, reminding myself of why I’m doing this, even though it still doesn’t feel real. None of this does.

“I have an appointment for us tomorrow to go look at wedding dresses,” Evelyn says. “I know you might not really care about that, but I think it’s worth trying,” she adds. “You can have some part of this for yourself, even if your groom isn’t making this easy for you.”

I nod, biting my lip. My immediate reaction is to tell her not to bother, that I’ll throw on a dress from my closet and call it a day, but I know she’s trying to make this better for me.

“There’s tradition that has to be upheld too,” Evelyn says quietly, as if she can hear my racing thoughts. “Even if you wanted to just go to the courthouse and be done with it—which I’m sure you probably do—Alek is the second son of the YashkovBratva. If he’s getting married, it’s expected that it’ll be an event. We have to go along with that, for the sake of the Bratva. If Alek was married without any ceremony, the other bosses might take it as an insult—the ones Dimitri is allied with. The Irish and the Italians.”

I nod numbly. “Sure. Whatever we need to do.” I can understand the need for all of that, theoretically, but it’s not really sinking in right now. I’m not sure anything will. Not until all of this is over—but right now, I can’t seewhenit will be over. There’s so much to get through before then.

Evelyn pauses. “Do you want help unpacking?”

I shake my head. “No. Thank you, though. I think I just…need a minute.”

Evelyn nods. “Dinner is usually at seven-thirty. But if you want me to have the staff bring you up a tray so you don’t have to sit at the dinner table with Alek, I understand. It’s no problem.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

Evelyn steps forward, giving me a quick, tight hug, before walking out of the room and closing the door gently behind her. I look around the room that’s my home now, at the piles of boxes that still need to be unpacked, and I feel that heavy, sinking sensation start to pull at me, dragging me down.

I drop to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest as the tears finally start to fall. They start slow, then tear out of me in deep, wracking sobs, and I press my forehead to my knees, wondering how everything unraveled so quickly. How my life could have changed so fast—an unexpected pregnancy, the loss of my home, being forced to choose between marriage to two different men, neither of whom really wanted me.

I don’t know how long I sit there and cry, or how much time passes before I think I hear the tread of heavy boots in the hallway outside, stopping for just a moment outside my door.My stomach tightens, and I stifle a sob, sure that it’s Alek and not wanting him to hear me cry.

After a moment, the footsteps move on. And I bury my face in my arms and start to cry again.

12

DAHLIA

Ideliberated for a long time over whether or not to go down for dinner that evening.

On the one hand, hiding in my new bedroom and not having to talk to anyone sounds like the best possible way I could spend an otherwise difficult first night here. But on the other, I don’t want Alek to think that I’m hiding fromhimspecifically—which would be at least partially true if I don’t go down.

Eventually, after getting about half the boxes unpacked, I drag myself to the shower in the attached bathroom and try to make myself presentable. It’s not my bathroom at my old apartment, that I decorated and painted exactly the way I wanted it, like a pink old-Hollywood dressing room, but it’s just as luxurious as everything else in this mansion. I take a long, hot shower, scrubbing my face until it looks less like I’ve cried off and on all afternoon, and put on a pair of dark jeans and an icy blue silk blouse. With my hair blow-dried and the tiniest bit of makeup on—I also don’t want Alek to think I’m trying too hard—I feel a little more presentable and more capable of facing everyone.

To my relief, he’s not even in the dining room yet when I walk in. Evelyn told me that she and Dimitri typically eat in the smaller, informal dining room unless they’re having a dinner party, and the two of them are already sitting down, Evelyn to Dimitri’s right as they talk quietly about something. Evelyn looks up when she hears my footsteps, a smile on her face.

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