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“I know of a few butchers who’ve been looking to sell horse meat,” Mother continues. “Keep pushing your luck. We’ll see if that stupid creature survives the night.”
My stomach bottoms out. Mother knows how much that horse means to me. Polina was a foal when she was gifted to me by my father before his passing. When my sisters were married off one by one, Polina was the only one I could turn to for company. I can’t tell if Mother is serious, but I’m not willing to tempt fate. As the head of the Salkov Bratva, I know for a fact she’s capable of unspeakable cruelty.
“Mother,please, I—”
“Silence Alina! They’re here.”
I turn slowly, every breath I draw thin and dry. Three men enter without pomp or circumstance. They’re all dressed in sharp business suits, like it’s a uniform. If I had to venture a guess, I’d say they’re all in their late thirties or early forties—almost double my age. Brothers, judging by the similarity of their features. They all have dark brown hair and deep brown eyes to match. At first glance, there’s a rugged handsomeness to all of them, a poise in their posture that only comes with confidence and power. They walk in like they own this room.
And that makes me nervous.
My eyes scan over each of their faces. Which one of them am I supposed to marry against my will?
“Violetta,” the first man says. He has a deep, commanding voice.
“Mikhail,” Mother replies tersely.
The second man in line sticks his hand out to shake. He has a crooked grin and an easy charm. When Mother provides her hand, he smoothly presses his lips to the back of her fingers. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Salkov.”
Mother’s lip curls into a sneer, contrasting her polite words. “Likewise, Dimitri.”
The third brother catches my eye. He stands in front of us, looming like a stone sentry, his gaze raking over me from head to toe as if in appraisal. His natural intensity makes my heart stutter. I’m fascinated by the hard line of his jaw, the sharp slope of his nose, and the firm press of his lips. If I’m being honest, he’s incredibly handsome. Beautiful in his severity.
He doesn’t speak, makes no effort to introduce himself. He just…staresat me. I can’t tell if he’s glaring or admiring. Either way, his scrutiny makes me squirm.
Dimitri pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t be shy, Pyotr,” he teases lightly. How he can be so cavalier at a time like this is beyond me. “Say hello to the lovely lady.”
Pyotr does no such thing. He tears his eyes away and starts toward the judge, who’s been patiently waiting off to the side. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbles, his voice rumbling like distant thunder.
This is who I’m supposed to marry?
I don’t bother giving Mother a pleading look. Instead, my eyes flit toward the door. Should I make a break for it? If I’m fast enough, maybe I can escape this place and never look back. My fight or flight instincts kick in, but I accidentally trip into a third option—I freeze. Why is this happening to me?
Mother gives me a hard shove toward Pyotr, who stands in front of the judge with his arms crossed over his wide chest. I can make out the hard lines of muscles beneath the fabric of his suit jacket. His clothes are not ill-fitting, it’s just that he’s already so big, the slightest flex puts undue stress on his seams.
With a shaky step, I take my place beside him, casting my eyes to the polished tile floors. The tips of my fingers and toes tingle, but the rest of my body is numb. I can’t believe this is happening. If this is a nightmare, I’d really like to wake up.
“Let’s cut straight to the chase,” Mother tells the judge.
The man nods, casting us all with a wary look. I’m pretty sure he’s on my mother’s payroll, otherwise he would have objected to this very obvious marriage-under-duress. He dutifully clears his throat and begins.
“We are gathered here today to join Pyotr Antonov and Alina Salkov in matrimony. Will there be an exchanging of vows, or…”
“No,” Pyotr says sharply.
A sticky lump is lodged in the back of my throat. He towers over me, at least a foot and a half taller than myself. I have to fight the instinct to shrink into a small ball and disappear.
“Right,” the judge says slowly. “If that’s the case, do you, Pyotr, take Alina to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“Yes.” He speaks like a gunshot: clear, blunt, and devastating.
“And do you, Alina, take Pyotr to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I glance at Mother over my shoulder, desperation dripping from my every pore. I don’t know why I turn to her for help. She’s the reason I’m in this mess to begin with. When I take too long to answer, Mother discretely drags the tip of her thumb across her open throat, a threat. At this point, I don’t know if she’s promising to kill Polina or me. Regardless of her meaning, I know I have no choice.
I suck in a sharp breath. “I do.”
Two simple words, yet their finality weighs heavily on my shoulders. Just like that, I’m married to a man I know nothing about.
