Page 27 of Sold to the Bratva
“You haven’t seen the dress,” I quip, nodding toward the garment bag dangling from the shower rod.
“I’m sure it’s as beautiful as you,” he says gently, though a flicker in his eye warns me I’d better not have done anything reckless.
“You don’t have to do this,” I say softly, letting my anxiety win.
He doesn’t respond.
I swallow hard.
“Please, Papa,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Don’t make me go through with this.”
I hadn’t planned this. I wanted to find a way out of this wedding on my own, but it’s my last chance to make him change his mind. My fear is genuine, but my plea sincere.
“Katya…”
“I mean it. You still have time to stop it. To call it off. To tell them you changed your mind.”
He exhales, his eyes softening. “And what would that solve?”
“I wouldn’t belong to him.”
“You don’t belong to anyone.”
I blink at his reflection, stunned.
He steps closer, his voice gentler now. “I didn’t choose this path to control you. I chose it because I know your strength and I know what you can do. This isn’t a punishment, Katya. With this marriage you’ll build a solid foundation.”
“A foundation foryou,” I snap. “Foryourempire. Not for me.”
His smile turns wistful, and I know he’s about to fire the big guns. “Your mother would be so proud of you.”
The words cut deeper than I’d expected. I turn my face away, but it’s too late. Tears are already burning my eyes.
“I can feel her here with us,” he murmurs. “She’s watching over you. She’d be fussing with your hair. Crying into a tissue. Telling me not to smudge your makeup when I kiss your cheek.”
I blink rapidly, fighting the sting. “I miss her,” I whisper.
“I know.” His voice softens, and for a moment I see his armor crack. He misses her too. “She believed in this. In peace, in progress, and in you.”
He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
“Your marriage to Isaac will do wonders for both families. You’ll understand that someday.”
He pats my shoulder and turns away, ending the conversation. That’s it, then. I really do have to go through with this.
I’m alone for mere seconds before Maude steps back in and unzips the garment bag. I can’t see her face as she takes in the dress, but the quick tension in her shoulders gives her away. Still, she says nothing. She drapes the gown over the shower rod and faces me, hands planted on her hips.
“It’s time, Miss Katya,” she says in her brisk, businesslike tone. “All that’s left is to get you dressed, and then you’ll be mistress of the house.”
I draw a deep breath and push to my feet, willing my shaky knees not to betray me. If she notices, she says nothing. That restraint is what I appreciate about her.
I stand in the middle of the bathroom like a doll while she lowers the dress and pools it at my feet. She guides me into the fabric, then pulls it up and cinches the corset, her fingers flying over the laces.
I watch her work, admiring my final act of defiance. With any luck, Isaac will take one look at me in this dress and walk straight out of the ceremony.
Maude lets out a quiet breath as she settles the veil. “You look breathtaking.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely, though stunning wasn’t exactly what I was going for.
