Page 4 of Beautiful Scar

I look around, heart pattering. What the heck is going on? Evan stands near the door, head cocked to the side as if listening for something, and more men appear at the far end of the hall.

They don’t look Russian. I’ve never seen them before in my life.

“We're starting in five.” Valentin looks over his shoulder and makes a frustrated noise. “Make sure she understands.” He gives me a hard look, but there’s a strange sort of pity in his eyes. Like he feels bad for me.

I know that look. I’ve been getting it my whole life.

Poor, scarred Dasha. She used to be so pretty.I resist the urge to reach up and touch my cheek. The ugly knot of tissue is covered with foundation and only slightly visible right now, and I don’t want to smear the makeup.

But everyone heard about what happened to me all those years ago.

They know I’m just a broken little thing.

Valentin leaves. He intercepts the strangers and speaks with them.

One stares at me, ignoring Valentin. He’s younger than the other, tall and extremely handsome. Straight nose, hard jaw, and very muscular.

Terrifying, but in a beautiful, primal kind of way.

I can’t pull my eyes off him. Something about that man draws my attention. He’s beautiful and strong, attractive in a way I’ve never experienced, but there’s an edge to him. Tattoos poke out from under the ends of his suit. A wicked gleam catches in his gaze as he looks right back at me, unbothered by my staring. This man makes my mouth water.

Looking at him is like standing at the edge of a long drop and wondering what it would feel like tofly.

That’s how I want this man. Like the kiss of sweet death.

“Dashenka,” Dad says, pulling me to face him. He’s grim now, and I feel like I might throw up.

“This isn’t a surprise birthday party, is it?”

He shakes his head. “I tried,Dashenka. I really, really tried. But you’re Valentin’s last unmarried blood relative, and they were insistent.”

My toes go numb in my pretty shoes. I was so stinking excited to wear these dumb heels. They’re fancy with the red sole, and I’ve never worn them around anyone before.

I felt all grown up and proud slipping them on my feet.

Absolutely pathetic.

“Unmarried?” I whisper as everything drops into place.

The strange men. Thepakhan’spresence.

The freakingchurch.

“In a few minutes, you are going to marry a man named Tigran Sarkissian. He’s a powerful, important member of the Armenian Brotherhood, and he’ll treat you well. I promise, Dasha?—”

I start to back away. Panic slams into my chest. The overwhelming, cornered-animal need torunoverwhelms everything.

This can’t be happening.

“Dad, are you fucking insane?” Evan hisses at him, appearing at my elbow. He steadies me, looking outraged. “You’re marrying her off likethis?”

“What else could I have done?” Dad snaps back, trying to keep his voice down, but everything echoes in the tiled room. “Don’t be disrespectful right now. Your sister needs you to be strong.”

“She needed you to not be such a fucking bastard. My god, you’re throwing her a surprise fucking wedding?”

“I can’t,” I choke out. “No, I can’t, no, no, no, please?—”

“Dasha,” Dad says, tone firm. He pushes Evan aside. “There’s no other choice. Please, don’t make a scene. You have to be good.”

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