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That night, when I eventually drifted off to sleep, I had intense nightmares. This normally happened when I was stressed out or under extreme pressure.
Sebastian woke me up at five AM. I didn’t want to get up but he threatened to drop a bucket of ice-cold water over me, so I gave in. Luckily for me, I’d managed to pack and shower the night before, so twenty minutes later we were all sitting in his car, driving to the airport.
“What about my wedding dress?” I asked, suddenly realizing I didn’t have one. Not that I cared, but I didn’t want to be dressed in some sort of revealing, lap-dancing-style outfit while I was getting married, although this was probably appropriate, considering the circumstances. Maybe I could wear my white suit over a shirt…
He glared at me then like I’d just spoken to him in Chinese, folding the paper he was reading.
“I had no idea you cared about stuff like that. After all, this wedding is mainly for my own benefit.” He chuckled, eyeing me inquisitively.
Heat warmed my cheeks. I still felt a little uneasy about the fact he knew about my cuts. It spelled a certain intimacy we hadn’t yet reached, and likely never would. Yet, in just one moment of stupidity, the cat was out of the bag.
To my relief, he acted like a human for a change since that night. In his own way, he showed me he gave a damn about whether I was going to cut myself or not—which frankly baffled me.
“It’s our wedding and I want to look decent,” I admitted, imagining this moment in the future. I never really had a boyfriend or anyone who could even resemble one, so the whole idea of marriage had never crossed my mind. Still, I wanted to make it special anyway. “Is there … I mean, will there will be any guests?”
“No, there won’t be any guests as no one is supposed to know about this,” he said in an impatient tone. Granted, he’d already mentioned before that it was just a formality. “Stop with the questions. I have everything under control, teacup.”
He’s still calling me that.
Indignation rearing its head, I tamped it down with a sigh, then sat back in my seat, looking out the window. I wondered if there were other ways I could make this day special in my mind so it would suck less, but it seemed my husband-to-be had other ideas.
He needed me and I had to pay off my parents’ debt. I felt his gaze on my neck during the entire drive to the airport, but I didn’t look at him once or said anything else until we were dropped off in front of his private plane.
This whole thing felt surreal. I had never been to France. Well, God, I had never beenanywhereoutside the US before, so I couldn’t deny the excitement I felt.
Shortly after we boarded, Sebastian buckled me up, a smirk on his face while my heart beat a wild tattoo. Once the door was shut and we started moving, my stomach made a flip and I white-knuckled the armrests, closing my eyes and trying to breathe in.
“Are you all right, Marinka?” I heard his voice, but I was too scared to open my eyes. “Let me guess. You haven’t been in a plane before?”
As irritation at his tone flooded me, I opened my eyes and found myself lost in his dark gaze. He looked amused and maybe a little concerned, too, but I couldn’t tell what was going through his mind.
“I’m fine, Sebastian. Thanks for asking and no, I have never flown in a plane before,” I retorted, infusing my tone with sarcasm.
“I find it a little odd that your father never took you away. I read your mother always travelled around,” he pointed out, and I shifted on my seat. He was right. My mother liked to travel a lot. She mostly went to Europe, but she never took me with her, even when I was a child.
“Papa was always too busy and my mother, well, she has never done anything for anyone. She sold you to me to save her own skin, so I never expected much from her.” I laughed, thinking about all the weekends when Nicolas and I had to stay with our nanny.
We’d traveled a little over to the west coast, but that was it. Since Dad was never there, we also never really had a family holiday.
The plane started shaking a little and I yelped with fear. Sebastian shook his head and shocked me by grabbing my hand and squeezing it. His touch felt warm and comforting, although my anxiety was still through the roof.
My heart was pounding inside my chest. I felt Sebastian’s eyes pinned on me.
“Just breathe in and out. Deep breaths. The turbulences are normal,” he muttered and I did what he said, side-blinded by his kindness.
The man was such an enigma, so brutal and domineering most of the time but then, this soft side reared its head in rare moments.
He didn’t let go of my hand for some time. When the turbulence stopped and the stewardess started serving drinks, I was a little better, but refused any alcohol. Especially not after what happened a week ago.
I rubbed my sweaty palms over my thighs and ate some fruit. The flight lasted several long hours, so I caught up on my reading about Sebastian’s family and eventually managed to get some sleep. Sometime later, he woke me up, telling me we were going to land soon.
I was scared again, but the landing was much smoother than take off. Hot air brushed my face when we stepped out of the plane, and the sun was disappearing behind the horizon. I was wearing a maxi summer dress. It had been cold when we left Chicago in the morning, so this was a nice change. I loved summer weather.
“Where are we going now?” I asked as we got to his black limo.
I was excited, despite the fact I was being forced to get married to a man who would only toss me away in a few months. Sebastian never told me anything, so I had no idea what he was planning.
“Saint-Tropez,” he said, and I gasped. I wasn’t so clueless that I didn’t know that part of the world was always filled with rich and famous people.
