Of course, he’d send a threat as our newlywed present.
“What does it say?” my mother asks.
I hand her the note without a word. Let her read it herself.
“Wait,” she says in alarm while reading, lowering the note to look at me. “Does this mean …”
“I’m not moving in with him,” I declare, standing to snatch the note back and march across the room. “Absolutely fucking not.”
I refuse to live under Emilio’s roof like some prisoner.
Especially after his little note.
The door opens again, and Aleksy stumbles inside, clutching a bloody tissue to his lip. His blazer is gone, his shirt now wrinkled, and blood speckles the collar. He shuts the door. Mom winces when he kisses her cheeks, and his eyes lock on me.
“No,” I immediately say, already knowing what’s coming.
“Liliya, we have no choice,” he says, his voice nasally. “He’s pissed we didn’t tell him Dasha ran off.”
“Oh, he’s pissed about that?” I seethe, shaking with rage. “What a shocker. It’s almost like I warned you something like this would happen. I begged you to listen to me.”
“We did what we had to do.” His voice turns harsh. “For the family.”
I violently shake my head.
“Don’t make this harder than it already is, Liliya.” His glare darkens. “It’s happening whether you like it or not. But you will pretend to like it when you’re with Emilio.”
I take deep breaths to stop myself from crying.
“What if I refuse?” I ask as my mother takes my abandoned seat.
“Then Emilio kills you,” he replies with no hesitation, no softness. Just the truth, stabbing me like a knife to my throat. “He made that crystal clear. You thinkIchanged the deal? It was him.” Aleksy steps forward, sweat dripping down his forehead. “If we refuse, he said he’ll kill all of us and hunt down Dasha.”
A shiver rips down my spine.
“Change into the reception dress,” he instructs before turning on his heel and leaving the bridal suite.
It’s done.
My voice doesn’t matter.
Idon’t matter.
I flip off the door, wishing it were to Aleksy’s face and Emilio’s.
As I rip the wedding gown over my head, I know what I have to do.
I’ll go to this reception dinner and pretend to be a good wife, and then, like Dasha, I’ll run.
5
Emilioyanks the wineglass from my hand. “That’s enough.”
I attempt to grab it back, but he presses his cold palm against my forehead and shoves me back into my chair.
Those are the first words he’s said to me since we arrived at the reception dinner. He’s spent most of the night acting as if I were invisible.
Not that I’m angry about that. I’d prefer he ignore me forever.
