Page 98 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“You fucking bastards, both of you!” I rage at them.

My bodyguards don’t respond as they leave the room without a word.

Only then do I realize that I’m not alone. Not by a long shot.

In fact, there’s a whole team of people in the large, carpeted room with stone walls that looks like something out of a medieval fairytale.

“Who the hell are you?” I demand.

An older woman with dark, curly hair steps forward, her expression sympathetic and almost apologetic.

She gives me an awkward smile. “I’m Alice,” she says. “And this is my team. We’ve been hired to get you ready today, love. We’ll need to start with your hair and makeup.”

I blink at her, trying to wrap my head around the absurdity of the situation.

Is everyone just gonna pretend that I’m not being forced into marrying a Russian mobster?

“I don’t want to do my make-up,” I say. “I don’t want to do my hair. I don’t want to get married!”

Alice looks at the four people standing behind her, then back to me again. She kneels in front of me so that we’re at eye level.

“Ma’am, I understand all that. But like you, we don’t have a choice.”

The way she says it, her tone dripping with fear, makes me pay attention.

Alice and her team are not at fault here. They are merely doing the job they’ve been hired for.

Or maybe they haven’t been hired at all.

Maybe they’re here because someone, somewhere made a deal with the devil and now it’s payback time.

Maybe she’s as trapped as I am.

“Please, ma’am,” Alice continues. “If you struggle, it will be harder for all of us. The Bratva are dangerous men. If you stop fighting them and just accept your fate, things will go easier for you. For everyone.”

Her tone sobers me and I find myself nodding, despite myself.

I don’t want to accept anything. It’s not in me to just accept being dealt a bad hand. I will always be searching for a way out, a means to escape.

But I know I have to be smart about it.

It may take time—but when it finally happens, I’ll need it to work.

“You can call me Esme,” I tell her softly.

She gives me a smile and leads me to the elaborate dressing table that’s been set against one of the stone walls.

Alice and two other women get to work on my makeup. I just sit there and let them do what they want.

Looks like you’re a doll after all, Esme. Nothing but a pretty little doll for men to dress up and move around as they please.

I swallow the tears bubbling up inside me and focus on Alice. She has a beautiful face, classical features, and sad, narrow eyes. She’s probably in her fifties, but she’s aged naturally and that makes her look younger.

When the other girls move to the other side of the room to do God knows what, I turn to Alice.

“What do you know about the Bratva?” I ask.

“Nothing good,” she murmurs. “They’re hardened men, ruthless and calculating. Trust me, it’s better to submit than to fight. There is no such thing as mercy where the Bratva are concerned.”

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