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“Nyet. Cedar-Sinai. Second-generation American.” She blows out a column of smoke and watches as more racks of dresses are brought in. “The staff members whodospeak English were warned about you. They were told you’re a method actress rehearsing for a role. They have strict orders to ignore your ranting and raving.”
I stare at her cool demeanor in utter disbelief. I slump down into my chair as another cloud of fabric drifts by. Natasha spins around like lightning on long legs and tugs a dress off the rack. It’s a column of emerald satin that matches her straightened auburn hair. “This would look good on me, but you have wide hips.”
I gaze out a window, and Tim appears in my mind, uninvited. I thought I would be planning my wedding with him. Picking out a white dress at a strip mall or at one of those sales where women rush the doors to get a designer dress for pennies.
My milestone will be wasted on a stranger. A sexy, dangerous stranger who can shoot a man dead from a moving car. A man that is holding me captive in his luxurious mansion. I might be treated well, but I definitely want to go home.
“Hey, Natasha, did you hear the commotion the other day?” I ask, faking a casual tone. “A woman was screaming. I saw her being pulled away. Probably back into the house and into that sleazy attic room.”
Natasha holds a fishtail dress up to her body, admiring the heavy satin while her cigarette dangles from her mouth. The seamstress nervously holds her hand under the inch-long ash.
“No,” she replies eventually. “You had a bad dream, Paige Geraldovna. Maybe you scream in your sleep.”
“It was lunchtime.” I eye her.
“Then you should eat less to not nap during the day,” she replies.
Sighing, I ignore the next rack being wheeled in. “Have you been in that room in the attic?”
“I don’t leave the first floor,” she answers. “When you marry Andrei Vasilyevich, he will let you redecorate the whole house.”
“Don’t gaslight me.”
“Gaslight?” she asks. “What is the meaning of that word?”
I leap out of my chair, and she watches me out of the corner of her eye, pushing the dress into the seamstress’s hands. Natasha walks behind me, following me to the door.
I spin on my heel. “I need the bathroom.”
She walks over to another door and opens it. “Don’t take too long, lucky girl.” She grins like a cat hiding a mouse under her paws.
I can’t even do this. I can’t pretend and go through the motions. I can’t force myself to look at a fucking wedding dress. Do they not understand? I don’t want to marry Andrei or have seven kids or seduce a lover into poisoning him. I didn’t spend a semester in art school for this! I sit down on the closed toilet lid and hold my head in my hands. These people are insane. Do they not understand they are breaking a law?
I snort to myself. “A law? More like a billion laws.”
My solitary rant ends when I notice a beam of light on the carpet. There’s a small window near the ceiling. And when I stand on the toilet lid, I can reach it. The handle swings open and I raise the pane. I smile for the first time in days. No, weeks. No, a whole damn year.
It’s been shitty for a while. I’m overdue for a break.
Gripping the wooden sill, I’m able to hoist myself up and through the small window.Who has wide hips now, bitch? I balance on my waist, hoping Natasha won’t burst in and grab my legs. The ground looks farther down than I hoped. Doubts cause me to teeter, but it’s this or marry Andrei.
I launch myself forward, and the wind is knocked out of me as I land hard on my side.
I crawl into a standing position and hear voices. Andrei turns the corner with one of his guards. At first, he looks shocked to see me, but I recover first and run toward the tree line. But even with a head start, I know he’ll catch me, and no sooner do I think of it, I go tumbling down onto the lawn with the weight of his body pinning me.
He grabs my wrists before I can pound my fists on his chest.
“I hate you!” I shriek. “I hate you. Let me go.” A sob rises out of my throat as I turn my face away from Andrei. I won’t look at him.
He lies on top of me, my hands going numb. I swallow hard and tears turn into ragged gasps. Finally, I have to look at him to see why he hasn’t moved.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I can’t go through with it. You still have time to find someone else. Anyone else. You don’t need me. You don’t want me. You could have anyone.”
“You will do this, Paige.” His voice is low and heavy, and I close my eyes against the simmering anger he unleashes. “Because only you can do this for me. I don’t want any other woman. I don’t need any other woman. I have you, and you will do this for me.”
“But I don’t … Please let me go. I want to see my family again.”
His jaw relaxes and so does his harsh grip. The coldness in his gaze slips, and a glimpse of humanity appears. Did I reach him? Does that cold heart have a little warmth in it? My body relaxes underneath him as I press my hand against his chest as if I’m trying to feel a heartbeat.
