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His lips stretch into a tight smile. “Now that we understand each other, let’s go. My family is waiting for us.”
My heart leaps into my throat. His whole family?
He turns me in the direction of the elegant patio setup and gives me a little shove forward. The whole brood of Malikovs is waiting and watching Valentina pose for pictures with her mother just a few feet away. I recognize Luka’s brother Nikolai, and stiffly nod when he flashes a smile at me. Then my gaze connects with Valentina’s.
She looks absolutely gorgeous. Her hair falls in loose waves over her bare shoulders, her petite body swathed in white silk and lace. The wedding gown hugs her figure like a perfectly fitted glove. Beads and stones glitter in the late afternoon sunlight as she changes position at the photographer’s instruction.
But it’s the flicker of sadness in her eyes that makes me wonder what else she was about to tell me at Luka’s house before we were interrupted.
When she smiles, it looks half-hearted at best, and for as good as that photographer may be, you can’t Photoshop happiness and joy.
I watch the group cycle around for different shots. Valentina goes through the motions, listless and quiet, her shoulders slightly slumped. My mind trips back to our conversation.
There’s a way out, Natasha. Trust me. You just have to be patient.
Is there an escape plan for you, Val? Is that what you were trying to tell me?
She looks so sad and alone, but why? Shouldn’t today be the happiest day of her life?
Because it looks like it just might be the worst one.
Nikolai walks over to us, his eyes focused on me. “Hey, you clean up nice, ‘just Natasha.’” He leans down to give me a kiss on the cheek.
He’s pretty charming, so it’s hard not to smile back even though my insides are twisted like lanyards.
Dima grabs a flute of champagne, and without a word to either of us, he walks over to a group of other guys who resemble him and Nikolai. More brothers, I guess.
But one is missing. I keep scouting the veranda for any sign of Luka, but he never appears. Nikolai leans down so that his lips brush against my ear. “He’s with my father handling some business.”
I give a swift nod so as not to attract Dima’s hateful gaze, instead turning to watch Valentina pose with her mother, a tall goddess of a woman who looks every bit like her daughter.
But for as physically close as they are, Valentina is miles away, and I wonder if her patience is about to run out.
Crippling pain assaults my heart. I haven’t seen or heard from my own mother since I was taken. This whole experience is so incredibly surreal — me, standing in the center of another family’s happiness when I’m missing out on my own.
The door to the terrace swings open. A tall man in a tuxedo walks outside and claps his hands to get the group’s attention. “It’s time for the bride to come with me. Everyone else, please head into the cocktail lounge.”
A flurry of activity follows. Dima walks back to me, grabs my elbow, and steers me into the lounge. My heels click loudly along the concrete pavers, my calf muscles tight and tense as I stalk to the double glass doors. He pulls one open, then steps aside for me to pass.
Oh, so now we’re a gentleman?
The lounge is draped in soft tulle and white lights with large brass candelabras sitting in the center of each table. An array of candles casts a romantic glow on the room, creating an aura of sophistication and opulence.
It is truly a sight, and one that I don’t have time to appreciate since my blood is about to boil over at being manhandled by my husband-to-be.
I grit my teeth, not wanting to make a scene in front of all of these people, but once we’re inside and out of anyone’s earshot, I swivel around and yank myself from his grip. “Don’t ever drag me around like that again.”
“You don’t get to make requests. And I sure as hell won’t ever take them.” He reaches into his pocket for his phone and clicks on the screen. “Yes?” His eyes narrow and he smiles. Not the “happy, warm and fuzzy” kind, but the “you’re fucking mine” kind. “I’ll be there soon.”
He stabs the screen, looks around, and waves over Nikolai who just walked into the lounge. “I need you to stay with her. Something’s come up.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he leaves us.
I clench my fists, glaring up at Nikolai. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
Nikolai takes a long gulp of the clear liquid in his glass, then gives me a long look. “You old enough to drink?”
“Oh, figuring out my age wasn’t part of the whole stalker kidnapping plan?” I say sarcastically. “And yeah, I’m twenty-one, in case anyone cares.” I grab the glass from him and guzzle what’s left in it. It burns a path down to my empty belly.
“Feel better?” he asks.
