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When she finally left, I couldn’t even shut myself into the bedroom and cry, so I sat in the bathtub until I was a prune. I finally fell asleep that night hungry since my father’s goons must have ratted out my rudeness and my dry little salad was never delivered.
No one else visited me after that, not even the seamstress, and on the morning of the big day, my father showed up to drive with me to the place where it would be. I realized I didn’t know, and wasn’t about to ask. It could be a church or a cemetery for all I cared. He lectured me the entire way about how I better keep it together if I wanted my friend to ever see the light of day again. It was encouraging that he remembered why I’d agreed to the wedding in the first place, and I perked up a bit by the time we arrived at a sprawling mansion on the waterway.
“This is Ivan’s home,” my father said. “You should be honored he’d hold the wedding here.”
“Sure,” I said listlessly, taking in the beautifully manicured garden as he whisked me in through a back door.
There were rows and rows of white chairs festooned with peach ribbons, peach and white roses and honeysuckle draped on the back of each one. There was a massive gazebo that was also buried in my favorite flowers and color.
Theresa and another woman greeted me in a big, modern kitchen and guided me upstairs where my dress waited for me. They were both dressed in simple satin, knee length dresses in the peachy salmon color of the roses outside. I stared at them, the question bursting on my lips as to how they knew.
“Did Yuri get your favorites right?” the one woman who introduced herself as Reina, Ivan’s wife, asked.
“Yes, I got some answers out of him, at least,” Theresa said.
I wiped my hand over my face to hide the glowing red that I know is rising. All the embarrassment I felt at how badly I treated her buried the surprised shock that Yuri actually remembered those things about me. “I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I really am. I was a—”
Theresa waved my apology away. “I get it. No need to apologize.” She helped me step into the dress, looking seriously at me in the mirror. “Believe me, I get it. You might get a happy ending, don’t look so gloomy.”
Her optimism only plunged me deeper into despair. She might think she understood, and maybe Yuri was putting on a brave face in front of her, but I was there in the bar when the arrangements were made and saw how very little he wanted any part of this. He was a lawyer, a consummate peacemaker, only wanting to make the best of everything. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with him. Remembering the man I couldn’t stand in a happy light gave me enough cognitive dissonance that I lapsed into silence while my new sisters-in-law fluttered around making me presentable.
Another new sister, Mila, joined us with a photographer, who took a few pictures of us together, then dragged me outside to a private garden to get some of me in my glorious gown amongst all the greenery and flowers. I peeked through the hedge to see most of the chairs were filled and my stomach turned over. This was going to be a big deal. I was going to be a big deal as far as Miami’s elite were concerned. Yuri’s law firm was one of the most prominent in the city, and I had been proud to work there once. Now I was going to be the wife of the founder.
He’s not what he made himself out to be.
I needed to remember that. He wasn’t just important because he was a successful tax lawyer, he’d created that persona by design to keep his family’s true businesses safe. He donated time and money to worthy causes to keep law enforcement and politicians in his back pocket. He might have been the most dangerous of all the Morozov brothers. Yes, it was important not to forget that.
I did almost forget it though, when I paused at the end of the aisle and saw him waiting for me under the gazebo. He was so damn handsome, his smile rivaling the late afternoon sun, his blond hair smoothed off his brow. He towered over the priest who stood near him and his perfectly fitted tuxedo showed off his lean swimmer’s build to perfection. Once upon a time, I’d run my hands over the abs I knew were tucked away under his crisp white shirt. I held onto his broad shoulders as we danced. How did he have the nerve to smile at me, look at me like he thought I was more beautiful than the massive bouquet Theresa thrust into my hands a few minutes ago? I knew that look radiating from his deep blue eyes, used to love that look. Now it made everything hurt to the point I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.
My father dug his fingers into my elbow, jerking me forward as the music swelled. I tripped over the impossible layers of my dress and he gripped my arm so tightly the breath I was having trouble catching burst free in a gust of pain. He dragged me forward until I got my footing again, managing not to rip the hem or faceplant in the aisle.
“Damn it, you clumsy sow,” he hissed, eyes forward, fake smile plastered across his face.
The only thing that kept me moving was promising myself that he’d pay for doing this to me. One way or another, he’d pay.
The sound of dozens of cameras clicking almost overpowered the string quartet that accompanied me down the aisle and I struggled to keep my face calm and neutral and not filled with the rage I felt. I still had enough vanity to not want to look like a grimacing hag when all those pictures showed up in Miami’s social media. I was pretty sure I wasn’t pulling off serenely happy like most brides, but at least I wouldn’t look like I had a killer after me. Or like I was the killer.
I didn’t hear a word of the vows, only said I do when there was a pause, and thankfully it was the right time. There was a time when I thought my future husband and I would write our own vows, full of personal, loving details, but now I was just happy to get them over with. The kiss nearly knocked me off the dais and shook me enough to send me into a state of shock that got me back down the aisle. As much as it hurt, I wanted more of his soft lips on mine. And it made me hate myself almost as much as I hated my father.
“Are you okay?” Yuri whispered in my ear as we posed for more pictures.
He sounded like he really cared. I nodded, concentrating on keeping my face from seizing up.Just don’t look crazy.
I’d lived like a shut-in for so long that all the attention made me woozy. I was actually grateful for Yuri’s cool hand firmly clasped around mine when it was finally time to get to the reception part of the evening. Once again, he leaned close as we settled down at the table of honor, the sea of strange faces threatening to drown me.
“We have to talk to most of these people,” he said apologetically. “Tell me when it gets to be too much.”
“It’s already too much,” I said, desperate enough to let him in. For now.
He took my hand under the table. “Fuck it then,” he said. “What if we just danced?”
“I can do that,” I told him.
He jumped up and spoke to Ivan, waving his hands until Ivan slipped away. A few minutes later, a live band started up, playing a song that would have sent me to my knees if I was standing. Yuri hurried back over as someone announced the first dance between the bride and groom.
“That’s us,” he said, pulling me off my chair.
All alone on the dance floor, everyone seemed to drift away, leaving only Yuri and me to dance to the first song we ever danced to. He even remembered that detail. At the end of that night a lifetime ago, we had our first kiss. It had seemed like such a victory, since he had been trying so hard not to give in to his feelings for me. I knew those feelings were real, once. For a short time, anyway. Until he finally managed to win his fight against them and shatter my heart into a thousand pieces.
