Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“Why not?” He runs his gaze over me, and when his eyes meet mine again, his irises are nearly black. “I’ve already seen everything.”
“Because…” I rack my brain in desperation. “Because it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.”
It’s the stupidest reason ever, this superstition that can only apply to couples who have some hope of a good, happy marriage, but it’s the best I can come up with. I can’t tell him the truth—that just standing here, I burn. That if he breaks his word and touches me, I might go up in flames.
The mocking curve returns to his lips. “Really, Alinyonok? You think ‘luck’ is a factor with us?”
“I do.” That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking by it.
He inclines his head. “Very well. I’ll be waiting for you on the deck.”
And with that, he walks out, leaving me feeling relieved… and strangely disappointed.
Chapter 4
Alina
I drag out my preparations for as long as I can, carefully fixing my makeup, styling my hair, choosing the perfect underwear for the dress—not that anyone but me will see it. I contemplated taking a second shower as well, but I decided against it.
If Alexei notices that I washed off the sunblock, he’ll insist on smearing it all over me again.
My skin heats at the memory of his big, strong hands rubbing the cream into my shoulders, and I squeeze my eyes shut, taking deep breaths until my pulse evens out.
It’s beyond perverse, this twisted desire for his touch when it’s the very thing I’m trying to avoid.
Finally, I can’t delay it any longer. The mirror tells me my efforts have paid off. Despite the lack of professional help, I look like a bride should—sleek updo, flawless makeup, and all. I’ve even found jewelry in a delicately carved wooden box in the closet, and I’m wearing a pair of diamond earrings that complements the elegant simplicity of the white dress Alexei has chosen for me.
It’s time to face the music.
As I exit the cabin and head for the stairs, I tell myself that this is what I want, that I’m the one who pushed Alexei into staging this farce of a wedding today. I’m taking control of my fate in the only way I can—by facing the inevitable head on. Once we’re married, I will have held up my end of our bargain, and Slava will live safely with Nikolai and Chloe, where he belongs. That’s when I’ll be able to contemplate my own safety and think of ways to escape.
This wedding is a stepping stone to my eventual freedom, not something to dread.
I tell myself all this, and still, my knees shake as I step out onto the deck and see Alexei waiting under the overhang, with Larson and Vika at his side. A tall, dark-haired man is there as well, someone I haven’t met. Spotting me, he lifts a chunky camera from where it hangs around his neck and snaps a picture.
Has Alexei managed to get a professional photographer on board for this?
But no. As I approach, I see that the stranger is more likely a bodyguard or a hired gun. About the same age as Alexei and with a similarly muscular build, he has a hard, dangerous look about him, the kind that speaks of close acquaintance with violence. Unlike Vika and Larson, who are still wearing what must be their uniforms, he’s dressed in a sharply tailored black suit with a starched white shirt and stylish black tie. There’s also something familiar about him, something about the sardonic set of his mouth and—
“Alina, meet Ruslan, my younger brother,” Alexei says as I stop in front of him and the stranger. “Ruslan, meet Alina Molotova, my bride.”
His brother? It’s all I can do to conceal my shock. I’ve known that Alexei has a younger brother, of course, and I vaguely recall seeing a picture of the two of them together a few years back, but I’ve never come across Ruslan Leonov at any social events. Like their recently deceased sister, Ksenia, he’s stayed out of the limelight, letting Alexei and their father be the public faces of their family enterprise. Ruslan’s reputation, however, is not nearly as innocuous as his sister’s—just the opposite.
What is he doing on this boat? Why didn’t Alexei introduce him to me yesterday?
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Ruslan says, though his expression implies otherwise. There isn’t so much as a hint of a smile on his hard face—a face that, upon closer inspection, bears a definite resemblance to Alexei’s. They have the same masculine nose and sharply cut jaw, though Ruslan’s eyes are a stormy gray instead of dark brown, and his skin and hair are a shade lighter than his brother’s.
“I can’t say likewise,” I reply, not bothering with a smile either.