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I touch the nape of my neck. The truth is, I don’t know what I thought. “I believed you loved me still.”
“I loved you, Mikhail. I loved you with all my heart, but it became clear to me I was nothing but an afterthought, if even that. A disposable entertainment.”
“Caterina, that’s not true.”
“Your actions said otherwise,” she whispers back, loudly. Before I can explain why I did what I had to, Caterina’s father appears at her elbow.
“What’s this?” he snaps, scowling between us. “Are you causing trouble? The first song has begun and they’ve been calling you to the floor repeatedly. Come, Caterina, the dancing is about to start. Don’t you dare embarrass me and your soon-to-be husband.”
I see Caterina’s father grip her arm tightly, leaning in to mutter something in her ear. Her face shutters closed, green eyes dimming.
I don’t like the way he’s talking to her. I can see her almost tremble, which is disconcerting because the Caterina I know trembles under no one. I step forward. “Tony, we were just talking. Release her, now.”
Her father turns to me, anger flashing in his eyes. But I tower over him. I place a gentle, protective arm around my fiancée’s waist, letting him know who’s in charge now. “Please leave me and my future wife to lead the dance.”
Caterina meets my gaze, defiance in the set of her jaw. I incline my head slightly in understanding. For now, we must play their roles.
The music continues to invite us to the floor, solemn strings and piano filling the grand ballroom.
I extend my hand to Caterina as the final notes for the first song fade, an offer and apology conveyed in one gesture. She hesitates, glancing back at her father’s imposing figure.
I wait, breathing deeply to calm my nerves. The ballroom falls silent, all eyes on us, waiting for our next move.
Finally, Caterina places her hand in mine. Her touch is featherlight, but it sends electricity arcing through me. I curl my fingers around hers, a silent promise to myself to never let go again.
As we take position for the next dance, I meet Caterina’s eyes. They are twin emeralds, shining with uncertainty and something more. Fear? Longing? Anger? I cannot tell.
“Bunny…” I whisper, the nickname from our young love slipping out unbidden. She inhales sharply, lips parting in surprise.
The music starts again, and we are forced into motion.
Chapter 6 - Caterina
The music swells as Mikhail sweeps me across the dance floor, one hand pressed firmly against the small of my back while the other grasps mine tightly. All eyes are on us, the blushing bride and her dashing groom, but I feel only emptiness. This lavish rehearsal dinner is a farce, our wedding tomorrow a lie built on secrets and betrayals.
As the music slows, he pulls me closer and I inhale his deep scent. Of all the people I thought I would be dancing with tonight, I never in a million years imagined it to be Mikhail Zolotov. My father, even without knowing of our past, shows a cruel hand.
As we twirl under the glittering chandelier, memories flood through me unwelcomed—moonlit nights in Mikhail’s strong arms, passion burning between us, plans whispered of running away together. Then the cold dawn when he disappeared without a trace, leaving me alone and pregnant.
Now he’s back as if no time has passed, ready to take his place as my husband in name only. He looks every inch the powerful Bratva boss in his crisp black suit, his chiseled face impassive, while I struggle to rein in the storm of emotions battering my heart.
Does he remember what we once shared? The endearments, the tender caresses, the hopes for a future beyond this violent world? Or did it mean nothing to him, a dalliance cast aside when whatever he needed to do had to be done?
I search his hazel eyes for some flicker of the man I loved, but all I see is his betrayal. I just can’t seem to look past that, despite his words and yearning to make things right.
And so we dance in silence as I refuse to be a compliant, giggling bride. What did he think? That I’d be grateful to have him back, like a beggar off the streets?
I owe him nothing, least of all my forgiveness. How did he even justify this wedding to himself? Did he truly believe I was just languishing for him all these years, desperate enough to marry him when the chance presented itself?
Or did he not think of what I wanted while this marriage was being arranged? That prospect doesn’t surprise me, considering he didn’t think of me when he left.
My heart aches with loss and bitter regret. I want to rage at him, to peel away that stoic mask and expose the truth. But I stay silent, keep dancing, forcing a smile through the pain. There are appearances to maintain, facades to keep. Father is watching.
Tomorrow I will be bound to him forever, our fates sealed. But my heart remains my own, however much he believes otherwise.
“Bunny,” he mutters as the next song begins, “talk to me.”
“You don’t get to call me that,” I snarl back. “Not anymore.”
