I was restless. Staying here in my room felt very uncomfortable. I should lock the door and sleep with a knife under my pillow like I used to when the world still made sense. But I couldn’t.
A sudden text from Yuri pinged my phone, saying he was downstairs with a few of his friends, “celebrating early.”
He added a smiley face emoji like we were kids passing notes.
Since I didn’t want to stay in my room, I saw it as an opportunity to occupy my mind. I was still angry at Yuri, and I would do whatever I could to make sure the marriage didn’t go through—at least not in two weeks as planned.
I left my room. I might have been stupid enough to go but I told myself I was just going to watch.
Not drink.
Not get involved.
But the second I stepped onto the lower patio, the part of the estate Papa rarely used, I knew I’d made a mistake.
Low music thrummed from portable speakers.
Expensive whiskey bottles lined the stone railing.
Three men lounged on the sofas, smoke curling from their cigars, eyes sharp and assessing.
Yuri smiled when he saw me.
Or at least bared his teeth.
“There’s my fiancée,” he said loudly, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Come join the party, baby.”
I stiffened under his touch but forced a smile.
For now.
He shoved a drink into my hand before I could refuse. Something fruity and sickly sweet.
I sipped once to be polite.
It tasted wrong. Too strong.
But I set it down after one swallow and made a show of leaning back against the cushions.
“Where are your two charming brothers?” I asked, letting the sarcasm drip.
“Around,” he said vaguely.
I frowned.
The way he said it.
Like he didn’t want me asking.
“You never told me what family you’re part of,” I said.
“You’ll know soon enough,” he said, brushing it off. “All you need to know is I’m gonna take good care of you. Real good.”
His fingers slipped lower along my waist.
I jerked away, standing up, the world tilting slightly under my feet.
Weird.
