“I don’t understand why I need to see a doctor,” I argue.
He gives me a narrowed look. “I’m certain you know by now that you are to do as you are told without any exceptions or arguments. So, if I were you, Miss Alvarez, I’d make life easier for myself. Especially given who you are.”
He looks me up and down with the same hatred I witnessed in Mikhail and the guards.
Of course, the hatred would be there. I keep forgetting everyone thinks I’m Adriana Alvarez. So, everyone hates me like they would her because everyone thinks my father ordered the killing of Mikhail’s mother and sister.
The shitty thing about it is, if people knew who I was, they’d kill me. They’d kill me because Natalia de Leon isn’t worth anything. Not even the dress she’s wearing.
“Understood?” he asks, and I manage a nod. “You may wait in the living room if you wish, or the bedroom. Take your pick.”
“I’ll wait in the living room. I just need to go to the bathroom first.”
“Very well. I believe you know the way. Do not keep the doctor waiting.” He says that in the same commanding tone I remember Adriana using in regard to the seamstress.
“I won’t.”
The bathroom on this floor is to our left. I move away from him and head right in, locking the wooden door behind me.
I don’t really need to use the bathroom; I just needed the break. These few moments are the only reprieve I can steal for myself. I’ve been stealing them since last night to gather my thoughts.
Right now, I just need to cry a little.
Just a little. Not too much to trigger the real pain that’s cutting deep into me from the center of my core.
I look at my face in the mirror and notice the bruise on my cheek.
It’s darker today in contrast to my skin.
I draw in a shallow breath and allow a few tears to spill over my lids. These tears fall because I’m so fucking scared, I’m afraid to breathe.
I’m terrified, and I don’t know what’s going to happen from one moment to the next. I know Mikhail is not a man you mess around with, and I’m frightened someone is going to come up to me and blow my head off when they discover I’m not Adriana.
And fuck, what about the wedding?
He’s going to marry me thinking I’m someone else.
Jesus. I’ve gone from the fear of being placed up for auction to getting ready to marry a Russian mobster.
How the hell did that happen?
Gathering my strength, I splash some cold water on my face, pat my cheeks, and leave the bathroom.
By the time I get down the stairs and walk into the living room, the man I’m assuming is the doctor is already inside setting up. At least Raul allowed me to see a woman. This guy looks just as unwelcoming as everyone else.
“Please sit here,” he says, motioning to the armchair.
Like everyone keeps telling me, I do as I’m told and sit.
“I’ve had the contraception injection already,” I inform him.
“When?”
“Last week.”
“I’ll ascertain that.”
I say nothing more; I just go through the embarrassing motions.
