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We’re at a church.
He’ll really make me marry him tonight.
Adrian carries me out of the car and leads me to a back door. A blonde in a sharp skirt suit greets us with a smile.
“Mr. Volkov.” She nods at me. “Miss.”
“Do you have everything ready, Emily?” he asks with his non-negotiable Russian accent.
“Yes, sir. Everything’s as instructed.”
“Make it quick.” He places me to my feet.
I’m thinking of ways to somehow escape when hot breaths tickle my ear and he whispers, “If you resist, let alone attempt to run, I’ll catch you and we’ll do it my way. I assure you that’s the last thing you’d want, Lia.”
And with that, he turns around and leaves, utterly sure that I won’t do it.
And to be even more certain, a few black cars line the perimeter of the church, all of them filled with men dressed in black, like Yan and Kolya.
He brought his guards to the ceremony. Isn’t that romantic?
Emily leads me inside and introduces me to two of her helpers. I’m back to the numb state as I let them treat me like Adrian’s doll.
The asshole.
The fucking asshole.
Every time I think we’re falling into some sort of an understanding, he does something to prove his monstrous nature. I sometimes get the idea that he might care for me, but it’ll always be his way or the highway.
Emily and her helpers don’t waste any time. They wash my hair and pull it up in an elegant twist before carefully attaching a long veil to it.
After that, they apply a natural touch of makeup, painting my lips a soft pink.
Soon enough, I’m dressed in a white silk wedding dress with a large skirt that covers my cast. Its train is long and circular, matching the length of the veil.
The dress has a jewel neckline with a lace V-back that shows my skin. It’s elegant and fits me to perfection, as if it’s been specially made for me—which I wouldn’t put past Adrian.
“Is this tailored?” I ask Emily, who’s fussing with the veil.
“Yes, miss.” She beams. “We’re so glad we had it made in such a short time.”
“How long?”
“About a month.”
Since before I found out about the engagement. Adrian ordered for this dress to be made while he was engaged to Kristina. He’s intended to marry me since then.
I don’t know what to think about that. Should I be flattered? Angry? Both?
Emily says I should stay in my flat shoe since it’ll keep me comfortable. Besides, it’s covered by the dress, anyway. After finalizing the look, she retrieves a camera and grins. “Smile.”
I don’t know if I do as she takes the picture. I stare at my reflection in the long mirror and it’s like I don’t recognize myself. I look beautiful with slightly red cheeks, like a blushing bride.
But it’s the exact opposite.
That red is for anger, for the way Adrian is taking everything away and not giving me a choice.
Though he did give me one—being his wife or his mistress—but that’s merely another way of manipulating me. He never intended to go with my decision, not after he spent nearly a month preparing me a wedding dress.
