Page 5 of Arranged Control

He shrugs and glances at his phone. “That’s correct.”

I nearly gag. “That’s too soon!”

“And yet it’s happening. What would you have me say? This is your duty, Alina. What does it matter if it’s two weeks or two months? The result is the same.”

“It’s my wedding. I have to get a dress. I need to prepare?—”

“You have two weeks. That’s plenty of time. The arrangements will be handled for you.”

“I don’t even know this man!” I’m tempted to throw the call in my father’s face. He’ddespisethat. His perfect little girl showing her naked body to a man like that. It would disgust him. But I don’t need to give him more of a reason to hate me.

“You will walk down the aisle. You will marry the Whelan man. And you will produce children with him as quickly as possible. I want multiple little Irish and Russian brats, Alina. I want to make sure this alliance is solid, do you understand me?”

“You could have told me at least,” I say, hating the way my voice trembles.

Papa’s nose wrinkles with disgust. “Why couldn’t you have been like your mother? My poor, missing Darya? Now that was a woman. So strong, powerful, and confident. She never would have stood there shaking like a pathetic small dog.”

I’m trembling with anger. I can’t believe it. He sold me to the Irish and didn’t even bother saying anything. And now he’s insulting me and comparing me to my impossibly perfect mother yet again.

How long was he going to wait before saying anything about this? Until the night before? When I couldn’t do much more than rage into my pillow before giving myself to a stranger forever? If it weren’t for Seamus, I’d never have known until it was too late.

But what does it matter?

In some ways, Papa’s right.

Telling me today or ten minutes before saying my vows won’t change anything. Because as much as I hate my family in this moment, I know what my duty is. I know what I have to do.

It’s what I was born for.

Even if this hurts and I hate the way my father takes every opportunity to remind me how unimportant I really am, I’ll still do as I’m told.

Because I always have.

Seamus was right, back on that call. That stuff with Alex was always just a distraction. It was a stupid game.

Now my real life has to begin.

So why do I feel like I’m falling apart?

Stiffly, I get to my feet. Papa watches, scowling. I know what he’s thinking.Here she goes again. Another emotional outburst.She’ll never live up to her mother’s memory.

He’s right. I won’t ever be half the woman my mother was. I want to scream in his face. My mother’s gone and I doubt she was ever half as amazing as he made her out to be my whole life. And he could have at least shown me the slightest bit of courtesy. Just a quick phone call. A text would’ve been enough to spare me the embarrassment of tit-bombing my future husband.

Instead, I hold myself upright, struggling to maintain my dignity the best I can.

“I understand, Papa,” I say, my voice steady while my hands tremble. “I’ll do what’s expected of me.”

“Good. That’s very good.” He looks away and lifts the remote. The TV clicks back on. Papa curses in Russian. “The fucking Yankees, I swear they lose on purpose sometimes.”

I linger for a moment, completely forgotten as my father berates his beloved baseball team, before slowly walking out into the hall.

Don’t crumble. Don’t fall apart.

Not yet at least.

“Alinochka? Is everything okay?” Katya follows as I walk back to the front door in a daze. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I say, and it sounds like my voice is coming from someone else. “Just a miscommunication.”