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I stare at her, my stomach roiling. “And your mother? Was she unhappy also?”
She pulls back her hands, her face turning shuttered. “Not at first. She didn’t know what kind of man she’d married, not until much later. It was when she found out that things started to unravel and—” She stops and takes another deep breath. “In any case, that’s neither here nor there. My point is, Nikolai possesses that same intense, passionate personality, an obsessive tendency that seeks, and eventually finds, something—someone—to latch on to. Like our father and our grandfather before him, he’s single-minded when it comes to getting the woman he wants, and he wants you, Chloe. And he’ll have you, at any cost.”
I don’t know what to say. Struck dumb, I simply stare at her as she says softly, “Also, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a streak of mysticism within Nikolai, this belief in fate and destiny that he’s inherited from our grandmother. Having grown up in a small rural village, she was both religious and deeply superstitious, and she spent a lot of time with Nikolai when he was a little boy. He’d probably deny it—he doesn’t consider himself religious in the least—but he’s absorbed a lot of her beliefs, including her attitudes about our family and how our very blood carries evil within it… how it was inevitable that our father, her son, would turn out the way he had.”
I swallow hard. “Which is how?” And more importantly, has Nikolai turned out the same way?
Alina’s lips flatten. “Never mind that. We’re talking about Nikolai right now.”
“And me. Alina…” It’s my turn to grip her hands. “What do I do? I told him I can’t marry him, but he’s not listening to reason. He insists we’re getting married today.”
Her face finally displays a flicker of surprise. “Today?”
“Yes, today!” Releasing her hands, I modulate my tone. “Look, I might be freaking out for nothing. I don’t know how he can force me into marriage—it’s not the Middle Ages. But just in case, can you maybe talk some sense into him? Or help me figure out how to do so?”
She tilts her head, her jade eyes gleaming. “So just to be clear, you don’t want to marry him?”
I blink. “Of course not. I mean… I’ve known him less than a month.”
“But you want him, right? Last night and that other time—”
“That’s different.” My face turns hot again. “That’s just biological. He’s a very attractive man and—”
“So it’s just sex for you?”
I open my mouth to say yes, but the word refuses to come out.
“I see.” The gleam in her eyes intensifies. “Do you love him?”
“I…” I swallow against the sudden dryness in my throat. “I don’t know. Does it matter? I still can’t marry him. He’s—that is, he’s not…”
“What you imagined as a husband?” she says as I trail off. A wry smile curves her lips. “You know, most women would jump at the chance to marry a rich, handsome man who’s crazy about them.”
“Would you? Jump at a chance to marry someone like your brother?”
Her features tighten, the smile falling off her face. “We’re not talking about me.” Standing up sharply, she strides over to the window, her back ramrod stiff as she stares out at the distant peaks.
Confused, I walk over to join her there. I have no idea what’s upset her, but clearly, something has. Cautiously, I touch her shoulder. “Hey, I—”
She turns to face me, her features composed once more. “Listen to me, Chloe. You’re right to freak out. If my brother says you’re marrying him today, that’s going to happen. I don’t exactly know how, but he’s resourceful. If you really don’t want this, your best bet is to delay the wedding.”
“Delay? But—”
“Delay,” she says firmly. “Outright refusal won’t work—it’ll only make him more determined—so you have to say yes and then figure out a way to impose some conditions. Maybe you’ve always dreamed of a particular wedding venue, or a special dress, or having your college friends as bridesmaids. He may honor that, or he may not. Either way, it’s worth a shot.”
I stare at her, my pulse racing. She’s right: I’ve gone about this all wrong. Last night, until I told Nikolai the truth—that I didn’t think it could work between us long term—he seemed amenable to reason, more interested in persuading me than bending me to his will.
Maybe if I agree to marry him at some point in the future, we can go back to a saner dynamic, restore the way things were.
“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” Alina says, and I can tell that she’s sincere. “Anything I say to him will only backfire. It’s better if you approach him yourself.”
“No, this was very helpful, thank you.” I turn to leave when a thought occurs to me. Hopeful, I spin around. “You wouldn’t happen to have the morning-after pill, would you? There was a bit of a… memory lapse on our part last night.”
