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The music began to get louder, the drama building.
It was time.
The massive double doors opened, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen began their descent.
Anja’s nails dug into my arm as she whispered something in my ear, though I didn’t hear a single word of it. My thoughts were racing far too loudly. Then the viselike grip released, and my grandmother was replaced by my father.
I felt him before I saw him, a large, ominous presence. I forced my gaze forward so that my emotions, my weakness, wouldn’t betray me.
My entire body tensed as I slid my arm through his—just as we’d rehearsed. No words were spoken.
Anja had disappeared somewhere, as was usual when my father entered the room.
After the last of the bridal party departed, the doors closed.
Like a wave moving in unison, my father and I stepped into position. My heart roared in my chest.
The orchestra blossomed into a crescendo. The doors opened, and my heart jumped into my throat.
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t swallow.
Hundredsand hundredsof the richest and most powerful people in Russia turned to look at me. But my eyes were locked on one person. The center of it all. The man I’d been given to.
Givento.
In an instant, my fear and anxiety were replaced by anger.
“Aleks,” my father’s deep voice snapped, and I saw that he had been trying to walk while I was still frozen in place.
Closing my eyes, I commanded my brain to tell my knee to bend.
Together, we entered the nave.
Left, right, left ...
Fury surged through my veins.
Right, left ...
My focus narrowed on the man standing under the cross.
Left, right ...
I lifted my chin and straightened my spine.
Left, right ...
I hate you.
Left, right ...
I hate you.
I. Hate. You.
4
Justin
