“That’s sweet of you to say. I always wished I had blonde hair,” I confide, and for some reason, my mind goes back to Chiara with her perfect golden waves cascading down her back.
Does Scorpion prefer women with light hair?
The instant that stupid question rises in my mind, I obliterate it. Because I don’t care what he likes. I don’t care if he likes me. This is, like Chiara said, a business arrangement. Transactional. I marry Scorpion to keep Svetlana safe, and he marries me to pacify Misha and his don.
“We always want what we can’t have, right?” Teresa gives my hair another final spray and surveys her handiwork.
“So true,” I agree, an acute pang of sadness hitting me as I can’t keep my mind from going to the ballet career I’ve spent practically my whole life working toward.
I didn’t manage to get to where I wanted to be. Now, I never will. It’s hard to accept that life as I knew it is over for me. Even when I’m finally able to escape this marriage, I’ll have been gone from the ballet world for so long, it won’t matter. I’ll be older, out of practice. And if I could somehow return on my own merit, Misha would make it impossible, one way or another.
A knock sounds at the door to the room I’ve been given for preparation.
“Katya?”
It’s Svetlana, coming to help me get into my wedding gown. I didn’t want to involve any of my friends in this insane wedding, and she’s all I have here, aside from my brothers. I’m not counting Misha and Dmitri since one is the reason I’m being forced to marry Andriani against my will and the other isn’t doing anything to put a stop to this farce.
“Come in,” I call to her.
“I’ll just get out of your way,” Teresa says, packing up the last of her supplies as the door opens and Svetlana comes inside.
“Lisichka,” she says, sounding choked up as she meets my gaze in the mirror. “You are the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”
I smile, feeling the sting of tears coming to my eyes. “I’m still wearing a robe.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Svetlana blinks and sniffles.
“Totally doesn’t,” Teresa adds on her way out the door. “Your husband is a lucky man.”
Husband.
Scorpion.
These two things don’t compute, even if I said them myself yesterday. But I don’t want to let that show to Svetlana. If she suspects this is anything other than a whirlwind romance, she’ll confront Misha. And I don’t trust my eldest brother not to hurt her. The thought of anything happening to her because of me is gut-wrenching. I couldn’t live with it.
The door clicks closed on Teresa, and then it’s just Svetlana and me.
She wraps me in a perfumed embrace. “Ty krasivaya.”
She’s telling me I’m beautiful again, this time in Russian. When she’s overwhelmed, she sometimes slips back into her native tongue, although it’s been many years since she left, never to return.
I hug her back, feeling equally overwhelmed and for all the wrong reasons as I thank her. “Spasibo.”
“Enough of this.” Svetlana sniffles again and then steps back, all business. “Time for your dress,da?”
The woman who raised me is a tough cookie. She rarely shows emotion. I hate that I’m lying to her, but I have no choice. It’s for her own good.
“I guess it is.” I try to keep the reluctance from my voice, but a hint shines through.
“You are nervous,” she guesses.
“Yes.” The admission slips out before I can catch myself.
All brides are on their wedding day, aren’t they? Admitting that won’t give me away.
She frowns. “You are sure you want to marry this man?”
No.
