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"If you aren't dressed and ready in fifteen minutes, I'll bring the minister to you," I mumbled, giving my last direction before turning on my heel and heading back for the door.
As tough as I needed to be to make her see just how serious I was, I wished it wasn't necessary.
I didn't want to be an asshole. I didn't want to boss her around and demand anything from her. I wanted her to trust me, and to see that everything I did was for us. I wanted us to be a team rather than her constantly opposing me.
But it was foolish to think I could accomplish that so soon. I really did mean it—if she only cooperated willingly, then everything would be easier for both of us.
There was no missing Anastasia's frustrated huff as I closed the door behind me. Reaching for the lock, I hesitated, then let go of it and continued down the hall.
I thought back to my conversation the night before with Catherine. As much as I didn't want my little sister to put her nose in my business, she did offer me a useful bit of advice.
She told me that locking her away wasn't getting me any closer to building that trust with Anastasia again. If I wanted her to believe in my intentions, then I had to trust her first. Even if it felt like a small gesture, letting her come and go from the room would mean everything to her.
It was difficult to get over the fear of her bolting or abusing that trust I hoped to extend to her, but it had to be done. I couldn't keep her in there forever.
As much as I wanted to keep her safe and treasure her as I did in Europe, it was unreasonable to expect her to adjust to a new life that consisted of a single window that didn't even open.
As a Levov, Anastasia only ever knew freedom. It was only natural that her resistance and constant fighting would come from being confined and mostly ignored.
I did my best to trust her, even if I tried to listen to every step she took upstairs, wondering if she was trying another window, or searching for a different way out of the house.
But as if to spite me, she eventually came down the stairs sixteen minutes later, dressed in a pair of yoga pants that hugged her curves and a grey long-sleeve shirt. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun, and she had the most reluctant expression I had ever seen.
Compared to what I was used to seeing her wear, Anastasia almost looked like she had on the costume of a regular person—not someone who hailed from one of the richest families in New York.
While it was certainly humbling to an extent, I still thought she looked beautiful. I wasn't so sure she agreed, but it didn't matter.
When she reached the bottom step, she met my gaze and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Ready?" I asked, getting up from my place on the couch.
She mumbled her response, and I gestured for her to follow me.
***
The little chapel was far from glamorous, and it certainly wasn't how I imagined I'd get married, but it was good enough.
I had a feeling the man officiating the ceremony wasn't a real pastor at all, yet at the very least, he had the power to make us legal, and that was what mattered.
I was afraid Anastasia would speak out during the ceremony, but for the most part, she just went along with it. It came as a surprise, although the bags under her eyes and her reluctance to speak when she didn't need to was a big enough giveaway.
She was exhausted, and it seemed all the fight had seeped out of her. While it was technically a good thing for me, I couldn't push away the guilt that trickled into my system.
We exchanged half-assed vows, signed the necessary paperwork, and by the time it was all said and done, we exchanged a kiss that couldn't have been farther from anything we experienced in Europe.
Even if the reminder of how her lips felt had sent a rush of warmth through me, knowing just how miserable she was took most of the shine out of it.
By the end of it, I couldn't help but question my hastiness. I never stopped to question my thoughts in hindsight, but as we were announced husband and wife, the reality of it had me wondering if I had just signed myself up for a world of pain.
Not from Anastasia, but at the hands of her brothers and cousins.
I still didn't have Anastasia's loyalty, and wearing her down wouldn't hold up forever, since that wasn't how I wanted our marriage to be, anyway. In the blink of an eye, the whole thing could blow up in my face, and I didn't have much ground to stand on.
If her brothers somehow found her and questioned if she had consented to the marriage, it was obvious what she would say. Her first ticket out, she would take it, I was sure of it.
I went about everything all wrong, and that was easy to see. She had no reason to offer me her loyalty, and I was in no place to expect it from her. Although, it would certainly save my skin.
While my anger and that feeling of betrayal had been my initial drive, it had shifted to a genuine wish to protect her from everything.
