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I shook my head, dislodging tears. I couldn’t even face Roman to speak the shame of it. “No, I am…a treasured possession. And an unhealthy obsession. But I am not loved.”
Roman moved in and took my hand. “He loves you, Sloane.”
I shook my head again.
“He does,” Roman insisted. “He did all this for you.”
“Did he? I’m his prisoner. A means to an end.” I rubbed my stomach with my free hand.
“But you love him.”
I didn’t bother denying it at this point. “I’m scared. He scares me,” I whispered.
Roman just stared at me for a moment then half-laughed at my confession. “Love is a scary thing, isn’t it?”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“You are brave, Sloane. I know you will face this with courage, too, just like you do everything. I believe in you.”
I knew Roman was a genius, and smarter than anyone I’d ever met, but peptalks and life-lessons from a wise homeless kid made it seem like I was trapped in a trippy family sitcom. What had my life become? How did Alexie turn my world upside down so fast?
Roman squeezed my hand. I looked into his hopeful, almost pleading eyes. “His name will protect us— You and the baby, I mean.”
Ugh. Whatever.“Fine. Let’s go.”
Trembling, I allowed Roman to escort me out of my prison, followed by the thugs Alexie had sent to keep me in line.
Roman supported me as we descended the stairs, which were lined with lit candles like some Gothic romance.
I was dizzy in my breathlessness, with me having to heavily lean on Roman so I didn’t tumble down the dim staircase in a fiery ball of tulle and regret. Because I knew if I accidentally faltered, I knew I would catch on fire on the way down to breaking my neck. My vivid imagination already played it in my mind’s eye, and it was an undignified end. My hold on Roman tightened to the point of clinging.
He confidently kept on descending, and I was impressed that my added weight didn’t fatigue him a bit. Roman had been working out and training with Alexie in… well, whatever shady criminals needed to learn. But I didn’t realize how physically strong he’d become until now. Gone was the pale, underfed child that had to hustle for meals and a place to lay his head. He had blossomed into a very formidable young man under Alexie’s tutelage.
Once we reached the bottom floor, we marched slowly through the candle-lit house toward, my throat tightening with every step closer to my doom. To make matters worse, Roman hummed the bridal march beneath his breath, and I wanted to faint. If I did, would it get me out of this sham of a wedding?
The double doors to the backyard were propped open wide, showcasing a beautiful dusky sky smeared in sunset reds and early evening blues. I noticed the archway had decorations over them, the kind of arrangements you’d see in bridal magazines. Blues and greens and whites, with the occasional splash of red.
When I passed over the threshold, my eyes widened at the surreal outdoor scene in front of me. Lit candles everywhere. There was a path of white and blue rose petals strewn upon green grass. There were fairy lights in the trees. It all seemed so magical. Like when you saw fireflies dancing in the shadows around a fairy ring.
My mouth dropped when a smiling woman suddenly appeared from nowhere to hand me a bouquet of blue roses with the tiniest red tear-drop crystals decorating the green of the baby’s breath.
“Congratulations,” she murmured.
An Orthodox priest stood behind a smiling Alexie.
Oh God, the reality of all this nearly made me collapsed. If not for Roman holding me up, I might have done just that.
But, as was his duty, he continued leading me to my ill-fated destiny.
When I reached the end of the petaled aisle, Roman placed my trembling hands into Alexie’s. Roman then stepped back to line up as Alexie’s best man. I was so fucked.
The priest began—and I understood not a word.
“Alexie Petrov. Sloane Williams,” Alexie supplied.
“This is such bullshit,” I muttered. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”
Shocked at the interruption, the minister glared.
