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“Don’t look so worried!”
“This is your big day; you should be happy.”
“Is it cold feet?” whispered one of the girls from the brothel.
Annika shook her head, feeling her updo wobble in the process. “No, no. Of course not. I’m totally fine. Just a little case of the jitters, you know,” she lied.
“Don’t freak out, you’re going to do fine,” said Tasha.
Vika added, “You look so beautiful.”
“Yeah, Mama Katja is just as good at makeup as she is at doing hair,” said another sweet young woman from the Cathouse.
“I’m fine. Really. I’m just excited, that’s all,” Annika assured them.
The truth was a little more complicated. There was a ton of excitement, sure, but it wasn’t the marriage ceremony that made her nervous. It was going to be a big day for the Sokolovs and the Baranovs, but for different reasons. So much preparation had gone into this one day, and Annika wanted everything to go perfectly.
Still, she knew there was more than marriage waiting for her today. New beginnings required some rather gruesome endings. Annika had been prepping herself for what she might witness today, but there were some things you could never really be ready for. The darkness lurked underneath the bright, white, joyful decorations, upbeat live music, and crowds of excitable, tipsy wedding guests.
Her mind wandered back to that night at theShining Star Casino.The dark back room she and Mikhail dragged Egor’s advisor off to. The shadows cast on the wall as Mikhail wrung information out of the old man. The betrayal on the man’s face as he watched Annika watch the interrogation. He was lascivious and lewd with her at the bar. He was so brazen, so certain of Annika’s innocence that he thought he could get away with hitting on her right under her father’s nose, in the middle of Mikhail’s own property.
He didn’t deserve gentle treatment. But it was still hard to watch Mikhail twist the information out of him. There was a little guilt left in her soul. It was never easy to watch people get hurt, even when she knew they had evil intentions. Mikhail was a ruthless master of pain. He delivered torture and death like it was nothing. Annika knew she would have to see that side of him today, but she didn’t fear it anymore. As much as she detested the violence that came along with him, she knew it was for a good reason. A Pakhan had to rule with an iron fist, and Mikhail was no different. If she wanted to be his wife, his partner, his equal, she would have to make friends with the darkness.
If it meant being with him forever, it was well worth it.
When Katja returned with her makeup bag, she wasn’t alone. Annika heard her mother coming before she saw her.
“Make sure you don’t go too hard on the blush. My daughter has very distinct cheekbones, and she’ll look like a clown,” Yulia was telling Katja.
“Don’t worry, I’ve been doing makeup for a long time,” the madam told her calmly.
“Are you, like, a professional makeup artist or something?” Yulia asked.
“Or something,” Katja chuckled. Yulia looked confused, but Katja didn’t offer any further information. That was probably for the best. Annika didn’t imagine her mother would react especially well to the idea of a brothel mistress doing her daughter’s bridal hair and makeup.
Annika sighed, hoping her mom wasn’t annoying Katja too much. But the madam seemed to have an endless supply of patience, even as Yulia hung around, being a total backseat driver with Annika’s makeup. She micromanaged every flourish of highlighter, every sweep of mascara. She picked at the tiny roses in Annika’s hair and criticized the cut of her dress. The other bridesmaids shuffled away to chat among themselves, no doubt to avoid falling under Yulia’s unfiltered criticism. No one was safe.
When Katja was finished, though, everyone came rushing over to gawk at Annika’s look. Even Yulia seemed hard-pressed to find any flaws. Annika even noticed a shimmer of tears in her mother’s eyes, something she had never seen before. Yulia dabbed at her eyes with a white bridal handkerchief, careful not to smudge her own makeup. She put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze of encouragement.
“Wow. I can’t believe my little doll is all grown up,” Yulia said softly.
Annika reached up and touched her mother’s hand. Yulia let it stay for a moment or two before pulling away, which was a monumental kindness in Annika’s eyes. She knew how resistant Yulia was to being touched, and she never let her emotions show like this.
“I’m still not so sure about that fiancé of yours,” said Yulia. “But you do make one beautiful bride, Anni.”
Annika smiled at her in the mirror. “Thanks, Mom.”
There was a knock at the door. One of the bridesmaids opened it, and one of Mikhail’s groomsmen was there, hat in hand. Annika recognized the handsome, blond man as Andrei, Mikhail’s cousin and one of his right-hand men.
After giving the pretty bridesmaids a look of intrigue, he announced to the room, “The ceremony is about to begin. Girls, time to take your places.”
The bridesmaids wished her luck and scurried off, giggling at the handsome groomsman. Mama Katja and Yulia took their leave next until only Annika was left in the room with him. His smile faded when the women left. He closed the door and lowered his voice.
“You understand what’s about to happen, right?” Andrei asked.
Annika heaved a deep breath and nodded, getting up from her chair in a swish of flouncy white tulle and lace. “Yes. I’m… I’m ready.”
“Good. Follow me. I’ll take you downstairs,” he said, offering his arm.
