Irina nods enthusiastically. “We should go wedding shopping! We don’t have much time.”
I shake my head. “I’m really not in the mood.”
“Come on,” Irina pleads. “Just window shopping? We don’t even have to try anything on. Just look around. Please?”
After ten more minutes of gentle nagging from both of them, I finally sigh in defeat. “Fine. Window shopping only.”
We finish brunch and head to one of the most exclusive bridal boutiques in the city. The moment we step inside, I’m surrounded by racks of stunning white gowns, sparkling veils, and lace.
I stand there, staring at a particularly beautiful dress, and feel a strange mix of emotions I can’t quite name.
This is really happening.
In less than two weeks, I’m going to walk down the aisle toward Maxim Orlov.
And no matter how much I try to pretend otherwise… a small, terrified part of me is starting to wonder what that day will actually feel like.
We spend the next couple of hours in the bridal boutique. I try on several dresses at Kira and Irina’s insistence. I stand in front of the mirror each time, staring at a stranger in white, and feel absolutely nothing.
In the end, we book another appointment for two days from now so I can do “proper shopping.” I leave all the planning completely in the hands of Kira, Irina, and Milana. They seem thrilled to take over. I’m just grateful they’re excited about something I can barely stomach thinking about.
After the boutique, we decide to go shopping for other things. I drag them to a few stores and use Maxim’s black card without guilt. I buy proper clothes, tailored pants, blouses, jeans, sweaters, things that actually cover me.
I stock up on my usual skincare, the exact toiletries and products I like, and everything else I need to feel like myself again instead of some doll he’s trying to dress up.
By the time we're done, we decide to go get lunch. And after lunch, we all slip into the restaurant’s bathroom to freshen up before leaving.
I stand in front of the large mirror, reapplying my lipstick with careful strokes. Kira is beside me, fixing her hair, while Irina stands a little further down, rummaging through her purse.Milana leans against the counter, watching us with that quiet, observant smile of hers.
Irina clears her throat softly. She glances at the door to make sure it’s closed, then steps closer to me. Her expression shifts from light and playful to something more serious.
“Calina,” she says quietly, voice low enough that only we can hear. “I wanted to give you something.”
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a small black pistol. She presses it into my hand, the metal cool and heavy against my palm.
I stare down at it, then up at her, surprised. “What is this for?”
“Protection,” she says quietly. “Just in case. You don’t really know Maxim yet. If things go bad… you need to be able to protect yourself.”
I almost tell her the truth, that after the past few days, I don’t think he’s the type who would hurt me. He’s controlling, arrogant, and infuriating, but he hasn’t raised a hand to me.
He even looked furious when he thought my brothers had hit me. But admitting that out loud feels too defensive. Too much like I’m making excuses for him. Like I’m defending the man who’s forcing me to marry him. So I keep my mouth shut.
I tuck the gun into my bag and joke instead, “If I end up killing him, I’m going to need help hiding the body.”
Kira grins. “We’ve got you.”
Milana adds with a straight face, “I know a guy who knows a guy.”
We all burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. For a few minutes, it feels like old times.
By the time I climb back into the car with my security detail, I feel lighter than I have in days.
I get back to the estate just as the sun is setting. The mansion is quiet, almost eerily so. I’ve come to realize that the staff leaves early and retreats to their quarters on the far side of the property. Maxim doesn’t like having people around when he’s home.
I head straight to the kitchen for a glass of water, before heading to my bedroom. As I head back toward the stairs, I hear rhythmic, heavy sounds coming from the second floor. Curiosity gets the better of me. I walk quietly down the hallway until I reach the open door of the gym.
Maxim is shirtless again, wearing nothing but black gym shorts that hang low on his hips. His back is to me, muscles flexing and rippling with every powerful punch he throws at the heavybag. Sweat glistens on his skin, making the tattoos across his shoulders and back stand out even more.
