Page 32 of Twisted Union

“Next.”

Viktor chuckles as he shows me the next. This one is the epitome of princess, all frills and lace.

I scrunch up my nose. “Next.”

The following dress has long lacy sleeves and a cut bodice with a flowy skirt.

“Next.”

“Man, I really thought that one was a good choice.”

I shoot hm a look. “I said next, didn’t I?”

He smiles, his eyes darkening. “Yes, ma’am.” He shows me the last dress in the pile. It’s cuter than any of the others, with puffy sleeves and a sweetheart neckline.

“Do I look like I’m living in the ‘80s? Next.”

Viktor shrugs, his hands flapping down by his sides. “There’s no more. That was it. I mean, I can get some more, but I have a sneaky feeling that no matter which dress I bring you, you won’t like it.”

“What ever gave you that idea?”

He points at my face. “You … are insufferable. But that’s ok. Because I want you as my bride. End of story. Now, pick a dress.”

I look over the four dresses for a moment before pointing at the princess one.

Viktor’s eyebrows about jump into his hairline. “Really? That one? Huh. Never would have guessed. I was sure you’d go for the one on top.” So, the one he put on top just happened to be my favorite. How did he figure that out? “But ok. Here you go.” He picks the dress up with a flourish and presents it to me.

Meeting his gaze, I lift the scissors and cut into the dress, tearing it right now the middle. Then I keep tearing it until it’s nothing left but scraps loosely placed together. Viktor watches me with wide eyes. When I’m done, I stand back, nodding at my handiwork.

“Much better, don’t you think?”

Viktor makes a big show of looking down at the dress, then back at me. “Huh. Ok, then.” He throws the dress to the ground. “Not that one, then.”

I point at the third dress, and he lifts it for me. I raise my arm to slash it when he pulls it out of my reach.

“Hold on just a moment, Mrs. Dress Murderer, I paid good money for these dresses, and I was hoping to return the ones you didn’t want. So, maybe refrain from trashing them all.”

“Nope.” I grab the dress from him and go to town on it, tearing and slashing and cutting. When I’m done with the dress, I turn my attention to the puffy sleeved one and start ripping it apart like I’m a wild animal.

Viktor rubs a hand over his face. “Jeez. And I thought I was bad. What did these dresses ever do to you?”

“You did,” I pant as I slash the scissors down, tearing through the fabric. I’m surrounded by lacy white scraps. “When you said we should get married. I’m not the marrying kind, Viktor. I don’t want a man controlling me for the rest of my life. That’s my definition of torture.” I stab the dress repeatedly as Viktor watches me with wide eyes.

When I go for the dress I secretly love, Viktor stops me. “Wait for just a second. If you tear up this dress, you’ll have no wedding dress to wear.”

“That’s the idea.”

“I would also,” he says, stopping me from slashing the scissors down, “like to tell you that if you don’t choose a dress, you have two choices. You can either wear one of these three you’ve completely torn to shreds, or you can go naked. Your choice. But if you spare the dress in your hands, you can wear that one and feel like a beautiful bride on our wedding day.”

I pause, thinking over his words. Then, “I’m good.” I raise the scissors, but Viktor snatches them away before I can do any damage.

“Gemma, do you really want to show up at the church for our wedding naked? Because you know I’ll make that happen.”

He’s serious. Viktor has no qualms about embarrassing me.

I look down at the gorgeous dress in my hands. I don’t really want to ruin it.

With a huff, I toss the dress at him. “Fine. I’ll wear that one.”

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