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While we wait in silence, escape is all I can think about. This was a mistake. Marrying Luka might save some of my father’s men, but it will kill me. The Volkov soldier’s words felt like a warning.Merciless and without remorse.
I’ve seen that side of Luka. I’ve watched him kill an Irish assassin, and I’ve seen the aftermath of what he did to Cal Higgs. What happens when I make him angry? When I press back against his power? Because it will happen, I’m sure of it. Despite my father’s best efforts, I’ve never been one to follow orders. So, what happens when I talk back to Luka or fail to follow his distractions? Will he hit me? Punish me? Kill me?
I could try to run, but the soldier is young and strong, and I won’t get far. Even if I did, Luka would come after me.Merciless and without remorse.
There is no escape.
The doorbell rings and without a word or glance in my direction, the soldier turns and leaves the room. I hear his steady march down the hallway and into the entrance hall. There is a hushed exchange of words, and then he returns with a box in hand. He drops it on the table and steps back.
I wait for him to say something, but when he doesn’t, I stand up and move towards the box. “What is this?”
“Open it.”
Part of me worries it will be a bomb, but I doubt Luka would blow up his own mansion, so I push my fear aside, remove the tape, and pull back the lid. Inside are… wedding magazines.
“What?” I mumble under my breath, pulling out one of the magazines and flipping through it to make sure it is what it looks like and isn’t just a cover for some secret kind of communication. But each page is filled with ideas for “Centerpieces that will make your guests jealous” and “How to pick a dress all of your bridesmaids will love.”
I set the magazine aside and pull out two others before I find a binder with a stick note attached to it.
Schedule as much as possible. Do it under my name.
I look up at the soldier, my mouth hanging open. “He wants me to schedule our wedding? Now?”
The man nods once. “Those are the orders.”
I open the binder and see it is a huge list of every company or business the Volkov Bratva has ties to. Every company they either work with or have scared into doing their bidding. That is why Luka wants me to use his name. To use fear as a motivator.
I close the binder and look at the soldier. “I don’t care what the wedding looks like. If Luka wants a blushing bride, he should try online dating. I’m not planning anything.”
The soldier steps forward and brushes his shirt aside to reveal a gun strapped to his hip. His mouth curls up into a half-smile that sends a shiver down my spine. “I’ve been ordered to persuade you if necessary.”
I consider my options for a moment, staring at the man to show him I won’t tremble in his presence. But in the end, I turn back to the box and begin sorting through the contents. Turns out, Luka and his family are onto something. Fear is a fantastic motivator.
* * *
Two hours into planning the wedding from hell, I found a second note wedged between the pages of the magazine.
Ceremony to be held on mansion lawn for security reasons. Make it look nice.
When I found it, I groaned and immediately called back the venue I’d already scheduled to cancel and then called the caterer and photographer to update them on the location change. Luka’s name made sure no one complained about the short notice—the wedding is only five days away—even though I could tell they were less than thrilled. But compared to my level of excitement, they were practically jumping for joy.
The dress was the easy part. I called a discount dress shop not listed in the businesses in the binder Luka provided and asked them for a dress with poofy sleeves and preferably a matching lace headband. The woman asked several times if I was certain that is what I wanted, and I insisted. Then, I had her send it to the tailor my family has used for years. I know it is petty, but looking ridiculous on our wedding is the only part of the ceremony I can control. Every time Luka looks at me, I want him to remember that it isn’t real. That I don’t love him.
When I finally hang up the phone, I’m exhausted and weak from hunger. I haven’t eaten anything since I had half of a bagel for breakfast. And despite the soldier’s determination to prove that he can stand silently in the corner of a room longer than any other human in existence, I know he has to be hungry, too. He’s a trained soldier, not an actual robot.
“Can I please make us some food?” I ask, deciding it is best practice to be honest and sincere. “I’m starving, and I can’t think when I’m hungry.”
He gnaws on his lip, and I know he is considering it. “You know, poofy sleeves are out of style now.”
I snap my attention to him. “How would you know?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been to weddings. If you want to be in style, you should wear something sleeveless. And tight.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Hearing the man who threatened me with a gun to plan my own wedding discuss dress styles is almost ridiculous enough that I laugh, but that would require energy, which I do not have.
“I saw fresh produce on the counter, and I’m guessing there are basics in the pantry. I can make a quick stirfry. Maybe even season and grill some chicken.” My mouth starts to salivate at the thought of food. “I make a great blackened chicken with avocado cream sauce.”
“You have a lot left to do.” The soldier clenches his jaw and then lets out a sharp sigh. “Make it simple and make it fast.”
