He addresses Mikhail first. “Mikhail Yevgeny Dmitriyev, do you take Adriana Maria Alvarez for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do,” Mikhail replies.
Father Gabriel then turns to me and asks me the same question.
“I do,” I reply.
“What God joins together, let no one pull asunder,” Father Gabriel declares. I zone out from there, getting lost in my thoughts.
He blesses our marriage, and when we exchange rings, I can’t take my eyes off Mikhail’s.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Father Gabriel declares proudly, and I realize we did it. I did it. I got married.
Weeks ago, I was destined for an auction block to be sold as a sex slave. Now I’m the wife of Mikhail Dmitriyev.
“You may now kiss the bride,” Father Gabriel adds.
Mikhail leans forward and kisses me, but not even close to the kisses we’ve shared.
This kiss is empty and hollow, just like this feeling in my soul.
It feels as wrong as we do.
Aleksander approaches us, and I don’t know why, but I find myself staring at Mikhail’s father, Sergei, as if my mind somehow thinks he can fix this.
At least he doesn’t look at me in that coldhearted manner his son is. His son I just married.
“Aleksander, please take my wife home. I have business to attend to,” Mikhail says, and I cut my gaze back to his.
He’s not even coming home with me?
Of course not. The business is the cartel. The men sitting on the entire side of my right reminds me of that and what I am.
Whatever we had is over. It’s clear it’s done and there’s no trace of it left in either of us.
It’s over, and we just said ‘I do.’
“Mrs. Dmitriyev,” Aleksander calls me by my new name. “Come with me.”
I don’t embarrass myself any further by saying anything.
I just do as I’m told, look away, and follow Aleksander’s lead when he ushers me away.
I manage to hold it together but find myself looking over my shoulder before we leave. I’m looking back at Mikhail, but he’s not watching me. His eyes are on his brother, who is staring at me like the predator who just set his sight on his prey.
There is no mistake in the interest I detect in Ivan’s eyes, nor the fury in my husband’s stony gaze. It means trouble.
More trouble than I’m already in.
32
Natalia
“Would you like anything else?” Sophia asks as we step out of the store.
One of her bodyguards tags along behind us carrying our shopping bags while the other two guard us. A reminder of the situation at hand.
I’m starting to feel nearly as sorry for myself as she probably feels for me. She came by this morning to take me shopping. We’ve spent the day doing so.
