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The doors lock, and Dima snatches my wrist. He holds up my hand, inspecting it, and I attempt to scoot back when he plays with my wedding ring. He overpowers me and slides the ring off.

As soon as he releases me, I lunge forward, attempting to grab it. He snatches me around my neck with his free hand, pushing me back, and rolls down his window. Making a show of inspecting the ring, he turns it between his fingers before tossing it out the window.

“No,” I can’t help but shriek. “Why would you do that?”

He rolls up the window, looking smug. “Why would you marry another man when you were promised to me?”

I level my shoulders and voice. “Your father changed that promise. He gave me to Julian.”

Blame it on Yaroslav.

Deflect, deflect.

He shakes his head. “My father never got the money.”

“Julian has it. He’ll pay whatever.”

He wiggles his thick finger in the air, pulling up his sleeve. “Fuck the money. I’d rather have you.”

I inhale three deep breaths.

Think, Genesis. Think.

“Dima,” I say, trying my hardest to remain calm as I reach out and stroke his shoulder, “you want me to be your wife?”

“Yes.” His eyes are on my hand. “And I always get what I want,nevesta.” He grabs my hand from his shoulder and kisses the palm. “You are now mine. The best man won.”

I bite my lip, nodding.

Not telling him he’s so wrong.

For now, I need to stay on his good side.

Like so many people have with me, I’ll play nice to his face.

Then, I’ll turn just as cruel as everyone else when the time is right.

It’s up to me to outsmart and escape this man.

It’s time for me to stop being nice and start being smart.

When we’reinside a home and what Dima calledour bedroom for now, he hands me a passport. “Your new name is Anya Morozova while we’re traveling.”

I open the passport, seeing my picture and new name. “Why do I need a passport?”

“We’re going to Russia,nevesta.”

My heartbeat turns heavy, but I do my best to remain calm. “Russia? Why can’t I stay here and be your wife?”

“For now, it’s safest if you’re there. You’ll stay with my family.”

“Will you be there?” I ask, forcing disappointment in my voice. I even pout out my lower lip.

He stares down at me, pleased. “I’ll fly back and forth. I need to get you out of the marriage here, and then when I return to Russia, we’ll marry there.”

No way in hell is this motherfucker taking me to Russia.

I don’t even know how I’d flee from Russia.