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“Fine, until you asked,” I tell him ruefully. “I’d forgotten, just for a second, why we’re here.”
“You made a fine couple during your dance earlier.” Luca looks down at me, his green eyes full of sympathy. “You don’t have to be brave with me, you know, Caterina. Me or Sofia, either. I know this is hard. I would never have asked it of you if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”
Part of me wants to tell him I’m fine, that I’ve come around to the idea, just out of sheer bravado. But it wouldn’t be true. Every time I think of going back to sit next to Viktor, every time I think about what will come later, I feel a cold knot in my stomach, dread running its cold fingers down my spine.
“I’m scared,” I admit, keeping my voice very low. “He’s the leader of the Bratva. I am not the kind of woman who is kept like a slave. If he tries to treat me the way that I’ve heard the Bratva treat their women—”
“You’re not a Bratva slave. You’re a mafia princess and now a Bratva queen,” Luca says calmly. “I wouldn’t have given you to him if I thought he wouldn’t treat you like the royalty you are. Your role should come with respect, both from him and from others. But if it doesn’t—” he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching determinedly. “You can always come to me, Caterina,” he says, looking down at me. “If Viktor ever hurts you or even threatens it, you can come to me. Or to Sofia, if you don’t feel comfortable, and she’ll tell me. You will never have to endure what Franco did to you again.”
“Thank you,” I say softly. His assurances do help, just a little. But not enough to quell the fear still sending icy shivers through my veins. I think of how quickly things could have gone from bad to worse with Franco, too fast for me to call for help, too fast for me to escape and go to someone. If I hadn’t been able to calm him down, if he hadn’t reined himself in in time. Things could have been so much worse, and there would have been no one to help me.
But I know Luca means well. So I just smile at him. “I’m sure it will be fine,” I say quietly, pushing down the fears. There’s nothing to be done about it now, anyway. I’m once again married, the vows taken, the ceremony finished.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Luca and I both glance over mid-step, and I see Liam Macgregor standing there, his flaming red hair standing out in the sea of brunette and blonde. At a distance, I’d felt that jolt of anxiety, remembering Franco. But up close, the two men couldn’t be more different. Franco was handsome in a boyish way, charming and silly, never taking anything seriously. I don’t know if he’s always been this way or if his father’s death and his new responsibilities have aged him, but there’s very little that’s boyish about Liam. His jaw is sharp and strong, his eyes green and serious, and there’s a hint of manly stubble at his jaw as if he shaved this morning, but it’s already coming back in. The only thing boyish about him is his hair, which is brushed back and held in place with some product, but clearly would be wilder if he’d left it alone.
“Not at all.” Luca spins me towards him, offering the hand he’s holding in his. “Enjoy the dance. I’m going to go find my own wife.”
I know that not dancing with Liam isn’t really an option. I’ve danced with my husband, and then Luca, and now the third head of one of the families, and I know that while Luca must have wanted to get me alone for a moment to check on me, this is all really about showing that the peace between our factions is cemented. I, the bargaining chip, must be seen being squired around the dance floor by Luca and Liam, so that everyone can see that Viktor Andreyev is allowing it. Therefore, the rumored peace must be real.
“Nothing like a wedding to bring everyone together,” I mutter as Liam and I start moving in time to the music.
“What was that?” Liam looks down at me, and I can see kindness in his green eyes.Why couldn’t I have been bargained off to him, instead of Viktor, if I had to be married to someone?
The answer is most likely that Liam wouldn’t have asked for a bride as part of the bargain. Or maybe he’s just hungry enough for peace, like Luca, that he doesn’t need anything else to sweeten the pot.
“I asked how you liked the wedding,” I lie smoothly, smiling up at him.
“It’s very lavish. Not as raucous as an Irish wedding,” Liam says with a grin. “Maybe one of these days I’ll find myself a lass to marry, and you and your new husband can see how we Irish like to party.”
“The vodka seems to be flowing freely enough.” I laugh shortly, glancing around. “But maybe Irish whiskey hits a little differently.”
“That it does, lass.” Liam eyes me, the smiling corners of his mouth suddenly turning serious. “It’s a brave thing you’re doing, aye? Marrying Viktor to keep the peace. Don’t think we’re not all aware of it.”
I blink up at him, startled. I’d expected Luca to have my back, to an extent. But I hadn’t really expected a show of support from anyone else, not even some of the lower-ranking mafia men. For Liam to say something like that is more than a little surprising.
“If you ever need help,” Liam continues, his voice dropping very low and his Irish brogue thickening, “I’ll be right there at Luca’s side to make sure you’re safe. I can’t abide a man who would lay even one finger on a woman in violence.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. “Thank you,” I say finally, finding my voice before the silence becomes rude. I can’t help but think of Franco as I say it, half-Irish and Liam’s half-brother, and how Liam might feel if he knew about what Franco did to me during our marriage.
But Franco is dead and buried, and Liam knows enough of his sins. There’s no reason to bring up the rest. Not now, of all nights, when I’m trying my level bestnotto think of my first husband and all the ways my second could mirror him if I’m unlucky.
The reception seems both too long and too short all at once. The pageantry of it all is exhausting, especially considering how little I slept last night and how little I’ve eaten all day. At the same time, I’m dreading what comes after, the luxury hotel that Viktor mentioned and what will happen there.
But there’s no avoiding it. So when the time comes for us to leave, showered in seeds from the guests, I clench my teeth and steel myself as we head towards Viktor’s limo. I can be afraid, but I refuse to show it. I don’t want to give him that satisfaction.
The hotel he takes us to is gorgeous, deep in downtown Manhattan, one I’ve never been to but heard of many times. We’re taken immediately up to the penthouse suite. When we walk inside and the door shuts behind Viktor, I feel a cold chill run down my spine at the finality of it.
I look around the suite, trying to ground myself, taking in the smooth white linens, the soft carpeting, the fireplace along one wall, the velvet lounge sofas, the expansive bathroom that I can see just beyond one door. There’s probably a soaking tub in there, maybe even with jets. At that moment, I wish more than anything that I could make Viktor disappear and simply sink into a tub full of hot water and suds until the world itself disappeared around me, and I could relax.
“I’m going to freshen up,” Viktor says stiffly, loosening his tie. “I can help you with your dress when I come back out if you like.”
Well, at least he didn’t throw me on the bed and ravish me.I’m not sure if it makes this better or worse that he seems to be as uncomfortable as I feel. Maybe notasuncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to be enjoying this either. Not as much as I thought I would, after how strongly he demanded Luca hand me over.
Maybe this has nothing to do about a desire for me at all, just power. Perhaps it really is just a means to flex his control, to show that he can and will demand what he wants, even from the don of the northeastern American mafia. It’s certainly a possibility.
And it’s one that might mean he will be more willing to leave me alone after tonight than I’d originally hoped.
As Viktor disappears behind the bathroom door, I walk towards the balcony, pushing open the French doors and stepping out into the warm night air of very late spring. The city air is far from fresh, but it’s familiar, and I breathe it in, trying to steady myself. Trying to remind myself that whatever else happens, I’m still here, still home in New York. I haven’t been shipped off to Russia. I haven’t been sent away. I’m among familiar things, even if the man in the other room is wholly unfamiliar to me.
I look down over the balcony, at the street so many floors below me. I think about what comes next, after tonight, the years of marriage to my family’s enemy, to a man who is cold to me, to whom I’m nothing but a contract. I have a sudden thought that right now, I could throw myself off of it. That could be my choice. Instead of walking back inside and going to bed with Viktor, allowing him to undress me, to be inside of me, I could end this now.
I’d told Luca that there is always a choice, and I now see that I was right. I can choose a life with Viktor, or I can choose to deprive him of his bride. And I know in that instant, looking down at the concrete below, which choice is harder.
But I also know which choice is the right one.
So when I hear Viktor calling my name from inside the bridal suite, I slowly uncurl my fingers from the railing, taking one last longing look at the vast darkness below.
And then I turn and walk back inside.
