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I glanced out into the crowd and caught my mother’s eye; she was sitting at the end of one of the rows of pews in this magnificent cathedral that was serving as my prison. I could see the tears sparkling in her eyes, but they weren’t tears of joy, like they should have been for the mother of the bride. They were tears of grief, sorrow, and terror—the same tears she’d shed when she had first seen me in this dress and known there was truly no way for me to get out of this nightmare.
It was my father’s fault, all of it. He had left us with gambling debts so huge, when he had taken his own life, it hadn’t been enough for Gregor to excuse them. He told my mother and brother that we were going to have to come up with the money, or he would come after us.
Of course, he did offer the possibility of another solution. A solution that was focused on me. I shivered as I thought of it, the way he had looked at me when he had thrown it out there, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
He wanted to marry me.
I couldn’t believe it. I had laughed in his face when he had first said those words out loud to me. How could I not? He was nearly three times my age, and he had been a friend of this family for years. I was, at best, some sort of pseudo-niece to him, not a potential bride. But he had looked back at me with those cold, serious eyes, and I had known, with a shock of horror, that he meant it.
He wanted to marry me.
We tried to find the money; we really did. My mother scrambled to remortgage the house, my brother took on extra shifts at work, all of it, but it was too late. There was nothing we could do. And, I was sure, even if we had been able to come up with every cent of the cash my father had owed, Gregor would have found some way to make sure I was married off to him. He had decided he wanted me, and there wasn’t a thing in this world that would get in the way of him having me.
And now, he was going to. He had organized this huge wedding, taking place in front of practically the entire city of Bianco—or that’s what it felt like, at least. As though he wanted to make sure that everyone knew, that everyone was totally clear on the fact that I belonged to him. I was totally humiliated, knowing so many people would think that I had willingly gone along with this. That I had fallen in love with a man as twisted and sick as he was, to the point where I was willing to give myself to him like this. I wanted to scream, tear my perfectly coiffed hair out at the roots, but I didn’t have any other choice.
I kept walking, biting back the tears, forcing a smile onto my face. And, at last, I reached the end of the aisle, where my sentence was to begin.
I managed to make it through the ceremony, totally dissociated. I could hardly remember getting the words out of my mouth, but soon, the priest had announced that we were wed, and Gregor had leaned in to kiss me. I managed to turn my head at the last moment, ensuring that his kiss landed against my cheek instead of my lips.
"You’re going to have to get used to more than just that soon, sweetheart," he murmured to me, so quiet I knew nobody else in the church would have been able to hear him. My knees buckled, and I had to grab onto him to keep from keeling over on the spot. I knew he was right; I knew what was going to be expected of me on this wedding night, even though the thought of it made me ill. I was his wife now, his bride, and he was going to be the first man to …
I couldn’t even think about it. I had never been much of a romantic, but I had, at least, hoped that I would share that experience with someone I really cared about, someone who made me feel excited and loved and cared for. Not someone who had all but bought me, forced me into his bed because he knew I didn’t have any other choice.
He grabbed my head, gripping hold of me tight as we walked back down the aisle together. I could hear that the room was filled with applause, but I couldn’t make out any of it. I couldn’t take my eyes off my mother. She was the reason I was doing this—her and Leo—to keep them safe from the wrath of what he would have done if I hadn’t. The thought of it, at least, brought me some peace. I had done this for a reason, done this because I knew my family needed it. I wasn’t going to forget that.
And it was the only thing, I was sure, that would get me through the hellish night I had ahead of me.
The reception was being held at a lavish hotel, which was packed out with staff running around and doing everything they could to serve me. I wasn’t used to it. I had never grown up with a whole lot of money, but I supposed I would have access to all the luxury in the world now, if I wanted it.
But at what cost? That was the part that really screwed me up. I sat down at the long table made up of the rest of the wedding party, all strangers to me, as Leo had refused to be a part of this charade. Gregor draped his arm around the back of my chair, and I fought the urge to pull away from him. I knew if I didn’t play the role well enough, I was going to be punished—or worse, my family would be. I hadn’t come this far to let them get hurt anyway. I needed to do everything I could to protect them, no matter what it took from me, no matter how much my instincts were screaming at me to put as much distance between myself and this man as I could.
"Champagne?" one of the waiters asked, as he arrived next to me with a tray full of sparkling flutes. I hesitated before I grabbed one. I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to drink, in case I let my guard down and my real feelings towards all of this became obvious.
"Of course," Gregor replied. "We’re celebrating. Aren’t we, sweetheart?"
When he called me that, sweetheart, I felt as though my chest was crumpling up in horror and disgust. I loathed the way those words sounded coming out of his mouth, like he owned me—like he knew me or cared for me at all when it was clear to me he didn’t, never had. He had just been waiting for a chance to pounce when he got the opportunity, and I couldn’t help but wonder how far back his twisted desires had gone. How long had he looked at me and decided I was going to be his wife, one way or another? Had he encouraged my father’s gambling because he knew he would eventually incur a debt so large he wouldn’t be able to pay it back? Had my father not even thought of that, as he had been gambling with my entire life?
I noticed, as Gregor sipped on flute after flute of champagne, that he was getting a little tipsy. Yes, I could use that. I could make it look like he was the one who had decided we wouldn’t consummate our marriage on our wedding night. I waved over the waiter every chance I got, pretending I was just so excited to drink a toast to my new marriage, and then tossing the champagne away the first chance I got while Gregor knocked it back. It wasn’t ideal, but it was some way I could get through this without losing my mind.
I sat there, trying to keep a smile on my face, as I kept feeding my new husband drink after drink. The ring he had slipped onto my finger gleamed like a fresh shackle against my skin. I couldn’t believe this had happened, but now that I was in it, I had to find a way to survive it—I had to find a way to get through the night, at least. I knew I couldn’t put off the inevitable forever, but at least I could buy myself slightly more time before I had to … Ugh, no, I couldn’t even think about it.
My mother hugged me tight before she left, squeezing me in close like she didn’t want to let me go.
"I love you, Morgan," she whispered to me, her voice trembling. "You know that, don’t you?”
"I know, Mom," I breathed back, praying she wasn’t going to keep herself up all night worrying about what was happening to me. I didn’t know if I had poured enough alcohol down Gregor’s throat yet, but I would keep going until I was sure.
Until I was certain he wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on me.
Soon, the guests were leaving, and Gregor had turned his lecherous attention to me once more, but, as he stumbled towards me, I could see a bleariness to his gaze. He reached his hand out to me, and I took it, fighting the urge to pull away.
"You should get to bed," I told him, trying to keep my voice as neutral as possible. "You look … tired."
"You’re coming with me," he slurred, putting an arm roughly around my waist and steering me towards the stairs. I grimaced, knowing he couldn’t see me. Was he really so keen to get me into bed when he knew that I would never have chosen this? Didn’t he care?
We made it up to the hotel room, and he slumped onto the bed.
"I’m going to get changed," I told him, hurrying to the bathroom and closing the door behind me. I slid the lock across as quietly as I could, buying some time.
