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“I understand,” she finally whispered and the anger began to slide off me.
“Good, because I will know … I will fucking know if you cut yourself again. You’re lucky now that I am not stripping you naked and checking every inch of your flesh—because you’re mine, Marinka. Do you understand that you belong to me now? Your body, your soul. All of you.”
15
Marinka
His lips wereonly inches from mine. Why was he not kissing me? Now that I felt completely sober and embarrassed about my earlier behavior, I still wanted him to kiss me.
He noticed the scars and more than I’d feared, he was furious. I’d hidden that part of me for a reason, yet, his reaction still shocked me. Perhaps I’d have expected disinterest, dismissal … abandonment. Disgust, even. But his raw anger hinted at something else. Something deeper. I had been cutting myself for years. None of this was new to me and I’d never had anyone care about what I did or felt. Not that I shared the fact I was hurting myself with the general public. My own mother didn’t even know.
“Yes, Sebastian. I am all yours and only yours,” I said, appeasing him because I didn’t want to be stuck with him forever. If I was lucky, he’d release me at some point in the future.
I was such an idiot. Why did I have to pull my trousers down and ask him to spank me? Of course he’d see the scars. Though … why wouldn’t he just ignore them?
I just couldn’t get past him caring so much.
Why?
As he dragged his hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, I slowly started pulling my sweatpants up. I’d messed this up. I shouldn’t have touched the wine at all, because I made myself vulnerable.
So dumb.
Either way though, I wasn’t ready to just open up to him and reveal stuff about Nicolas. Sebastian remained a dangerous mobster and everything he was doing right now was just an act. No, he didn’t care and I shouldn’t even consider the possibility. He didn’t mean what he said. Truth was, he needed to keep me in line, to make sure we both kept our fake appearances in front of his family and business associates. It was clear to me that we were going to get married and I had to play the role of his late wife, so his mafia business could thrive without a hitch.
There was nothing else between us and there was never going to be anything else.
I would make sure of it. Sebastian was a cold and calculated mobster like my father, and I’d do well to remember that.
“Good, we finally understand each other. We are having dinner tomorrow, so we can discuss the details of the wedding. In the meantime, you will start your training with Jordan as soon as you’re able,” he stated, sounding much calmer now. “Goodnight, Marinka.”
That was it then. He opened the door and walked out, leaving me in the library alone. Plastering my back to the wall, I listened to his steps as they slowly faded away. Then, I released the oxygen I held in my lungs as my mind spun—likely still because of the wine. I really needed to avoid drinking again because every time I did, I made a complete fool of myself.
In the end, I left the library and headed to bed. The kitchen was empty and all the lights were off. Penelope must have made a dessert for us and now I felt bad that we didn’t even taste it. I’d apologize to her next time I saw her.
I managed to drift off to sleep sometime later without cutting myself, without damaging my skin. Sebastian’s pep talk must have worked. I didn’t think he was joking. If I defied his orders, he would sell me off to someone else without hesitation.
This wasn’t a game anymore.
* * *
The next daystarted in a much more promising way because Jordan showed up to teach me how to be Russina. Confident and beautiful, she was in her forties and reminded me of someone I wouldn’t want to mess with. In some ways, she was like my own mother as she seemed to also have had as many plastic surgeries.
Jordan was sharp and strict. She handed me an iPad and told me to study Russina’s and Sebastian’s weekly and daily routine, read over the whole family history, and learn things about the whole business structure. She was planning to see me once a week to make sure I chose the appropriate attire and behaved exactly like Sebastian’s wife.
After about half an hour, I couldn’t sit in my room with the iPad. I enjoyed reading, but this was a tedious and boring task that almost put me to sleep. When Jordan left, I could finally relax.
In the afternoon, Sebastian came home earlier than usual, so we had dinner. He was in a much better mood yet he didn’t fail to ask me if I cut myself again. He kept his tone amicable but I wasn’t stupid. I knew he would follow through with his threat, so I assured him that the skin on my thighs was untouched.
At least, for once, we had a civilized conversation, which was a bonus. that. He asked me questions about my past and then I enquired about his family.
However, I still hated the fact that he was so domineering. That trait showed in his every gesture, every word … the very essence of him. I didn’t think he could be any other way. He acted like an obnoxious alpha male, always telling me to finish my food and clear the plate. I wasn’t fucking five and I could take care of myself.
That’s why most of the time we ended with us arguing over something really stupid. In many ways, he was overbearing at best.
I carried on with this new routine for several more days until the weekend. On Friday evening, when he came home, he straight away announced that we were flying to France on Saturday morning to tie the knot.
This was unexpected and I understand the rush. My stomach twisted with unease when I thought about his plan. I really didn’t want to do something so … permanent. Sure, anything was reversible, except death, yet there was a finality to the whole thing. Sebastian insisted that our relationship needed to look real from the outside—how could I argue with that? He’d made up his mind about this and I couldn’t convince him otherwise.
