Page 19 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

Lena

I refuse to get out of bed.

I’m sick.

At least that’s what I tell the maid that brought my breakfast.

I physically cannot do it. I can’t make myself walk down that aisle and marry a man I hate.

I pull the covers over my head and try to block out the world.

But I can't stop replaying last night. The way Mikhail's fingers felt like shackles around my wrist.

How he kept pulling me into dark corners, his breath hot and disgusting against my ear as he whispered about what he planned to do to me after the ceremony.

"You're going to be such a good wife," he'd murmured, his hand sliding too low on my back. "So obedient."

I smiled and nodded because that's what was expected. What I was trained to do. But inside, I was screaming.

The champagne helped.

By my fourth glass, the edges of everything went soft and blurry. I could almost pretend the hungry stares from the men ogling me weren't real.

Almost ignore the way the women whispered behind their hands about my dress, about how Mikhail was getting damaged goods.

“He’s parading his whore.”

“I heard he shares in return for favors.”

Another had laughed. "Mikhail does like his women with experience."

I'd drained my glass and reached for another.

And another.

I was daring Anton to stop me.

But he never did.

He stood back and watched me get drunk.

My mother tried to lecture me about excessive drinking, but she wasn’t who I wanted to hear from.

Anton had stood there without saying a word. He didn’t try to steal me away for a kiss. No brush of his hand across my back.

He abandoned me to the wolves.

When Anton came to my room last night, I could still smell Mikhail's cologne on my skin.

Could still feel the phantom touch of all those eyes undressing me.

I couldn't bear the thought of Anton's hands on me, knowing it would only make this morning worse.

Knowing it would make me want things I can never have.

So I said the cruelest things I could think of. Used my mother's words, Mikhail's taunts, the whispers I'd heard all night.

"You can only give me a life on the run."

The look on his face when I said it nearly killed me. But I forced myself to keep going.

"I will never be happy with you."

Each lie felt like swallowing glass, but I made myself say them.

Made myself push him away before he could destroy us both trying to save me.

A sharp knock interrupts my spiral of self-loathing.

"Lena." My mother's voice cuts through the door. I can hear her irritation. "Open this door. Now."

I don't move.

The door opens anyway. Of course the maid let her in. What I want doesn’t matter anymore.

She sweeps into the room wearing a cream-colored suit. Her makeup is flawless, her hair perfectly styled.

She looks like she's ready for a celebration, not a funeral.

Which is exactly what this wedding is.

My funeral.

"The maid tells me you're ill." Her tone suggests she doesn't believe it for a second.

"I am."

"Get up."

"I can't."

She moves to the window and yanks the curtains open. Sunlight floods the room, making me wince.

"This is your wedding day, Lena. The most important day of your life."

I want to laugh. Or scream. "The most important day for who?"

She turns to face me, her expression showing just how angry she is with my antics. "For your family. For your future. For everything we've worked toward."

"You mean everything you've worked toward." I pull the blanket higher, trying to disappear. "I never wanted this."

"What you want is irrelevant." She sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. "This is bigger than your feelings, Lena. This marriage secures our family's position. It keeps us alive."

I think of what Anton told me last night. About Vadim's plans. About how we're all marked for death anyway. But I can't tell her. She'd never believe me.

"Get up," she says again. "Shower. The stylist will be here in an hour."

"What if I said no?" The words slip out before I can stop them. "What if I just... refused?"

Something flickers across her face. Fear, maybe. Or recognition.

"Then Mikhail would drag you to that altar himself." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "And your father and I would be dead before sunset."

I close my eyes. There it is. The truth we've been dancing around for weeks.

"So, I have no choice."

"None of us do." She reaches out like she wants to touch my face, then stops herself. "But Lena... sometimes we can find happiness even in cages."

"Did you? With my father?"

The question hangs between us. For a moment, she looks older. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.

I don’t want to be her.

I don’t want to marry a man I don’t love. I don’t just not love Mikhail; I hate him.

He disgusts me.

My father is not like Mikhail.

I’ve seen the tenderness between them. I believe he loves her in his own way.

And she must feel something for him.

"I learned to." She stands, smoothing her skirt. "And you will too."

“I won’t.”

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

After she leaves, I lie there staring at the ceiling.

My fingers go to Anton's mother's ring. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

I twist it around and around, remembering how his hands shook when he gave it to me.

I force myself to get in the shower.

I let the water beat against my skin, wishing it could wash away everything that led to this moment.

When I finally emerge, the bathroom mirror is steamed over and I can’t see my reflection.

Good.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at myself in the mirror again.

My mother is waiting in the room with a breakfast tray.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll eat.”

“And then I’ll vomit.”

“Stop being dramatic.”

She gives me a biscuit and stares at me until I take a bite.

It feels like eating cardboard.

The stylist arrives with an army of assistants.

They descend on me like vultures on a fresh kill.

They start on the process of transforming me into Mikhail's perfect bride.

The wedding dress hangs in the corner. It is beautiful in its own way.

But not for me.

I see it as my prison uniform.

Black and white stripes and chains.

I close my eyes and imagine myself in the dress of my dreams, marrying the man I love.

Anton.

My throat closes at the thought of him.

"You're so lucky," one of the assistants gushes as she curls my hair. "Mikhail Orlov is so handsome. So powerful."

I want to tell her that she can have him. Handsome men can have the ugliest souls.

I say nothing.

My mother is quietly watching from where her usual stylist is touching up her makeup.

My mother is a beautiful woman. She doesn’t need all the makeup, but today, we’re all putting on a show.

Mom glances at her watch and claps her hands once. "That's enough. Everyone out. I need a moment with my daughter."

The stylists and assistants flutter around, gathering their tools and chattering about how beautiful I look. I wouldn't know. I haven't looked in a mirror.

"Out," Mom says more firmly when they linger.

The room empties, leaving just the two of us and the massive white gown hanging like a ghost in the corner.

"Come," she says softly. "Let's get you dressed."

I stand on unsteady legs. My body feels disconnected from my mind, like I'm watching someone else's life unfold. She lifts the dress from its hanger with reverent care.

I step into the massive poof of fabric.

She pulls it up, sliding my arms through the sleeves.

Every inch of fabric feels like it weighs a hundred pounds.

It threatens to take me to my knees.

"Turn around."

I face away from her as she begins working on the corset back. Each pull of the laces feels like another chain being fastened. The bodice squeezes tighter and tighter, forcing my breasts up and my waist in until I can barely breathe.

She finishes and then moves to stand in front of me.

“You look beautiful,” my mother whispers.

“Please don’t say that,” I choke. “Please don’t pretend any of this is okay.”

She cups my shoulders, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “It has to be okay, Lena.”

“But it isn’t!” I whirl around, the fabric flaring around me like a furious cloud. “I don’t love him. He’s a horrible man.”

She sighs like I’m a toddler throwing a tantrum. “You will learn how to control him.”

I snort. “Mikhail will never be controlled by anyone. Certainly not me.”

“Lena, women have to be smarter. We are given certain powers that we must learn to wield to our benefit. Be soft. Win him over. And then, he will be on his knees to make you happy.”

That breakfast she forced me to eat earlier threatens to make a reappearance. “I will never.”

"You will," she says firmly. "Because you have to. Because there's no other option."

I shake my head violently. "You don't understand what he's like. The things he's said to me, the way he looks at me?—"

"I understand perfectly." Her voice is hard. Cutting. "Do you think your father was gentle when we first married? Do you think any of these men are?"

I've never thought about my parents' early marriage. Never wondered what their beginning looked like.

"Your father was... difficult. Demanding. He had a temper." She smooths an invisible wrinkle from my skirt. "But I learned his moods. I learned when to speak and when to stay quiet. When to touch him and when to give him space."

"That's not love," I whisper. "That's survival."

"Sometimes they're the same thing." Her hands still on the fabric. She leans close, her lips inches from my ear. "You think love is what you feel for your bodyguard. That fire, that desperation. But that kind of love burns everything down, Lena. It destroys."

My chest tightens at the mention of Anton. "Don't."

"A smart woman learns to bank those flames. Channel them. Use them." She moves behind me again, adjusting the train. "Mikhail is dangerous, yes. But dangerous men have weaknesses too. Find his."

"And if I can't?"

“You will.”

I swear I’m being suffocated. The dress is too heavy. Too tight. My hair is pinned half up and it feels like every pin is stabbing into my skull.

Would death be better?

“I can’t do this. I love Anton.”

“Shhh.” She presses a finger to her lips. “Lena, the walls have ears. Do you understand me? You are never alone here. Not really.”

I can feel the tears breaking free. “Then help me get out. Please, Mom. Sneak me away. Find Anton. He’ll protect me. He'll take care of me.”

She looks away, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “You have to have faith.”

Faith? I release a bitter laugh. “Faith won’t get me out of this cage.”

She reaches for me again, adjusting the sleeves. Her hand slides down, pulling at the gauze that is threaded with silver strands all the way to my wrist.

“What’s that?” She points to my hand.

The ring. Anton’s ring. His mother’s.

I forgot I was still wearing it on my right hand. I can’t bring myself to take it off.

Mikhail may put his ring on my left hand, but in my mind, my marriage will always be to the man I truly love.

“It’s nothing,” I say too quickly.

Her face goes pale. “Where did you get that ring?”

I don’t answer.

“Lena,” she hisses. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Why are you acting like this? It’s just a ring?—”

“That was Irina’s ring.”

The name hits me like a slap. “You know that?”

She closes her eyes, then opens them slowly. “Of course I know. I knew Irina. We were friends, once. And I know who Anton really is.”

The air leaves the room.

“You… you know?”

She nods. “I’ve always known.” Her voice softens. “I loved him like a son.”

I take a shaky step back. “He said no one knew.”

Her smile is tired and full of sorrow. “Then he still doesn’t know how much Irina trusted me. How much she loved you both. She wanted you together. We both did.”

I shake my head. “What are you talking about?”

She smiles. “I told you; have faith.”

“I don’t understand. Did you?—”

I want to ask her if she sent the picture to Anton. She had to. Was she giving us hope?

“Mom, please. Help me run.”

Before she can answer, a heavy pounding rattles the door. We both jump.

She moves instinctively, standing in front of me like a shield.

The door bursts open.

Dad.

Leonid stands in the doorway, thunder in his eyes. “Out,” he growls at my mother.

“She needs me,” she says, chin lifting.

“She needs to listen.”

They stare each other down for a beat before my mother relents, brushing my cheek one last time before slipping past him.

“This marriage must happen,” Father says as the door clicks shut behind her. “Vadim just reminded me what’s at stake. If we fail to seal this alliance, the Rostovas will suffer.”

I say nothing.

He crosses the room. “Do you want to see this family ruined? Burned down by Vadim's wrath? He will destroy us, Lena.”

I lift my chin. “Maybe we deserve to be destroyed.”

“Enough.” He glares at me. “You will do your duty.”

My throat aches. “I will do what you ask.”

He nods, satisfied, and turns to go.

I wait for my mother to return, but there’s a soft knock at the door.

I open it to find Dmitri.

I don’t give him a chance to say anything. I know why he’s here.

“Tell him I won’t see him.”

Dmitri looks confused. “No?”

“I’m busy. Do not come to my door again, Dmitri.”

I close the door in his face.

No more.

There will be no more secret messages.

Anton and I will never be together.