Page 45 of His Forced Bride
Romantic.
The word makes my stomach churn.
I reach the front of the room, and Yuri extends his hand.
I don't take it.
I stand there staring at him, feeling more bile rising in the back of my throat.
Just who does he think he is?
"Dear," he says harshly, and when his hand moves, it's to the lapel of his coat where he reveals the pistol tucked against his chest in a shoulder holster.
I find his eyes, then sweep the room with my gaze and know none of these people will blink twice if he shoots me right here.
They'll all simply play along with the story of a mysterious gunman and a tragic murder on Yuri's wedding day.
Trembling, my fingers find his palm.
His skin is warm, steady, and completely at odds with the violence he's threatening. I rise onto the steps and stand in front of him, but I’m hollow inside, nothing but a shell.
The priest begins speaking, but I barely hear the words.
All I can focus on is the gun under Yuri's jacket and the man who is stealing my freedom.
It feels surreal.
This can't be happening.
My heart is screaming for someone to stop this madness, for anyone to save me.
"Do you, Yuri Mikhailovich Gravitch, take Inessa Semyonovna Mirova to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do," Yuri grumbles, and the monotone drone of the priest's voice is broken.
My pulse spikes and I see his sardonic smile.
The priest turns to me, speaking in Russian now.
"Do you, Inessa Semyonovna, take Yuri Mikhailovich to be your husband, to love and obey him until death do you part?"
I say nothing, staring at them both with my eyes wide and my heart nearly exploding out of my chest.
My eyes flick to the front row where Oleg now sits with his weapon on his knee like an omen of what's to come if I run away.
Yuri's hand again pats his chest, where beneath the expensive fabric he, too, has a weapon.
I swallow hard against the knot forming.
"I do." The words taste bitter on my tongue.
The priest smiles, raising his hands in blessing.
"What God has joined together, let no man put asunder."
He nods to Yuri. "You may kiss your bride."
I expect something brief and ceremonial, a polite peck to satisfy the audience.
