Page 8

After a long while of shouting all my frustration at his closed bedroom door, my throat starts hurting, and I feel too tired to bother carrying on. It’s not like it’s making a difference, anyway. I was really rude, which isn’t normal for me. I’m usually so poised and polite. I know it’s because I am terrified of my father back home, so I prefer to go as unnoticed as possible.

But for some reason, I just hit my limit with this asshole after he threw me in the bedroom and locked the door. I hate the idea of sharing a room with him and the stark reality of the fact that he expects us to share his bed.

And why the hell did I enjoy that kiss after our wedding ceremony? I think I am also a bit angry with myself about that, too.

I huff loudly and flop down onto the bed. I want to get out of this dress, but there is nothing here for me to change into, and there is no way in hell I am going to have him come in and find me buck ass naked in his room. He’ll get the wrong idea for sure. Because that is not going to happen.

Maybe under other circumstances. He is freaking gorgeous.

Nope. What in the world am I thinking?

I sigh again and grab a pillow, throwing it over my face to try and blot out my thoughts.

But the pillow smells like his cologne. Wild forests.

I throw it across the room, knocking over something on his chest of drawers, which falls to the floor with a loud crash.

But even that doesn’t have him running in here to see what I am up to.

I lie alone for a long time, finally managing to calm myself. Shouting at him did feel good. Even though it didn’t seem to have an effect on him, it made me feel better. I got a lot of frustration out in the process.

I roll onto my side, pulling the long dress with me, and curl up into a tight ball, closing my eyes for a bit.

Whatever. None of this matters. I mean, if I was back home, it wouldn’t be any better than this, that’s for sure.

I am about to drift off to sleep when I hear the door unlocking.

I sit up quickly, ready for almost anything.

The asshole walks into the room holding a bundle of clothing.

He glances around and notices the broken picture frame on the floor, the photo is laying upright with the glass smashed around it. A group of people. Two parents, two kids—and the pillow lying next to it.

“Are you feeling a bit better after your tantrum?” he asks sarcastically.

“Go to hell,” I snap.

“I’ve been. It’s not that great. Took me a long time to find my way back.”

I scrunch my nose, glaring at him and wondering what the hell he is talking about.

He walks closer and tosses the clothes he is carrying onto the bed.

“Get dressed. We have some guests who would like to meet you.”

“I’m not interested in meeting your mobster friends.” I kick the clothes off the bed, and they land quietly on the floor.

“Look. You are coming downstairs to meet them whether you want to or not. You can come kicking and screaming in a wedding dress, or you can throw on those jeans, be more comfortable, and walk down the stairs in complete control of your own two feet.”

I hate him and his logical reasoning.

I bite my lip, squinting hard at him, trying to shoot laser beams of anger into his skull. It doesn’t work, so I sigh and lean over the bed to grab the clothes.

“Some privacy, then?” I huff.

He turns around.

“No, I mean get out so I can change.”

“Not happening,” he says without looking back at me.

“Why are you such an asshole?” I complain loudly.

“Sweet girl, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He chuckles.

I roll my eyes. He doesn’t know what I’ve been through. It’ll take a lot to top what my father has done to me over the years.

In horror, I realize that I can’t unzip the back of the wedding dress without help.

“Um. Whatever your name is. Can you help me?”

He turns around to glare at me. “We just got married. You still don’t know my name?”

“Can’t say I was paying enough attention.”

He snorts and walks over to me, very roughly grabbing my waist and pulling the zipper down. I gasp and grab the dress just before it falls off my shoulders.

His eyes graze up and down my naked back and I throw him another glare.

“You can turn around again.”

I get dressed as quickly as I can once I step out of the wedding dress, pulling my legs over my jeans as I hop across the room, trying to hurry while still keeping my balance.

I grab the t-shirt and throw it over my head, then turn around to look at the asshole and see he has been watching me in a mirror this entire time .

“What the hell?” I say angrily. “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I did, actually. Are you ready?”

“Whatever.”

He walks towards the door and stands waiting for me. Rolling my eyes again, I walk out into the hall, then down the stairs to meet whatever idiots he wants me to meet.

I’ve met all of my father’s clients and ‘friends.’ I know what type of people these mafia bosses hang out with. I guess it’s going to be a similar night to all of the parties my father has thrown. I’ll just stay quiet and wait till it’s over and do the best I can not to be bored out of my mind.

When we get downstairs and walk into his living room, I am surprised to find a family standing there. A guy, a woman and two young children.

The woman walks straight over to me. She looks around my age, maybe a few years older. “Hi, Sasha. I’m Chiara. It’s lovely to meet you.”

“Um, you too,” I say, feeling oddly caught off guard.

Chiara is stunning. And she has a warm friendly smile.

“These two little ones belong to me, and this is my husband, Maxim.”

Maxim steps forward to shake my hand. They both seem relaxed and calm. I wonder if they know what is going on.

Chiara lifts her eyebrows towards Maxim. “My love, please watch the little ones. Sasha and I are going to get a drink.”

“Of course,” Maxim smiles.

“Actually. Is anyone hungry? I think we should order some food and sit down and have dinner.”

“I could eat.” Maxim shrugs.

“Me too. I’ll order. What are you in the mood for?” Asshole says.

“Asian. Anything Asian. If Sasha likes Asian?” Chiara turns towards me.

“I like Asian,” I reply carefully.

“Are you sure?” Chiara laughs. “You don’t sound sure.”

Asshole lifts his chin towards me. “You can order whatever you want, Sasha.”

The whole champagne incident at the club flashes in my memory.

“I really do like Asian. The spicy Pad Thai noodles. Or the pork dumplings.”

“Great. You guys can handle that. Come on, Sasha. I need a drink.” Chiara grabs my hands and pulls me out of the living room towards the kitchen.

Once we are alone and away from the guys, she smiles and shakes her head.

“I bet you aren’t having the best day, hey?”

“Um, not really.” I tilt my head, wondering what she knows.

“Leon told us—about the marriage.”

“Leon,” I say, remembering now that was what the priest called him.

“Leon, your, uh, husband. Leon Dubrov.”

“Dubrov?” I say, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

Of course, I have heard of the Dubrov family. Their name is very well known.

They are a powerful family, but I am sure my father hasn’t got any business with them. I don’t think he has mentioned their name for years.

“Yes. And Maxim, my husband, is his cousin.”

“So you are also a Dubrov?” I ask, feeling like I am surrounded by the enemy despite how nice she is being to me.

Chiara fusses about in the kitchen as though she is completely at home here and starts making us drinks. “Vodka or gin?” she asks, pulling both bottles down.

“Gin, please.” I have so many questions, but I think it is better to just keep my mouth shut. I don’t trust any of them.

Chiara finishes making our drinks. She has a vodka soda with a splash of lime, and she makes me a pink gin. Then she turns to face me. “Cheers. I know it’s an awkward night for you, but I think you’ll find that Leon isn’t really a bad guy. He’s one of the good ones.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. There is no way that a good guy kidnaps girls and forces them to marry them after threatening their family.

I sip my gin while Chiara chats about her kids and her husband and what she does for fun. She comes across so genuine, it’s hard not to like her, but my tension is high and I’m struggling to relax the knot in my stomach.

From the living room Maxim calls out, “Girls, the food is here.”

“Oh, good, I’m starving,” Chiara says, grabbing my hand and pulling me back towards the living room. We walk through the open-plan space and into the dining room where the guys have set out dinner. It looks lovely and cozy with candles and take-out boxes all over the table. My father would have a fit if he saw this. He never got take-out, and if he did, he would have expected it to be served on the fine dinner plates.

I sit down at the open seat opposite Leon, and Chiara sits next to me. Maxim is busy helping the kids dish up some noodles and a few dumplings. It’s curious to watch Maxim doing this. He is so gentle with the kids, patient and caring. I sit tensely with my hands knotted in my lap as everyone chats and grabs a take-out box.

Leon places a noodle box in front of me. “I got you the chow mien with chicken. I hope you aren’t vegetarian?”

“Would you care if I was?” I snap sarcastically.

“If I found out you were, I’d have all the veggies in the house removed and only keep cold cuts and turkey in the fridge.” He chuckles darkly.

Chiara places a side plate of dumplings next to me. “Do you want the chili dipping sauce, of the sweet and sour one?” she asks, ignoring the interaction between Leon and me.

“Chili, please.”

Leon reaches across the table and hands me a napkin and some chopsticks. I am terrible at eating with chopsticks, but I won’t tell him that. It’s not like I’ve had much practice with it, seeing as I’m not normally allowed take-out.

I open the little packet and pull out the two bamboo sticks, then watch Chiara to see what she does. She pulls her apart and makes it look easy.

I try and pull mine apart and break one in half. I bite my lip, feeling embarrassed.

Chiara chuckles. “Here, let me get you another pair. That happens to me all the time.”

She grabs a fresh set and breaks it apart for me.

I take them, knowing that my brows are furrowed in confusion. The expression on my face is giving away the fact that I am a fish out of water here. Chiara, Leon and Maxim chat happily. Leon is talking about something funny that happened with the moving truck, then Maxim is telling him about some great restaurants he has to try in the area.

“Did you just move to Boston?” I ask, immediately wondering if I should have just kept my mouth shut.

I was never allowed to talk at the dinner table at home. My father hated it. He always wanted to eat in silence, and if anyone was allowed to speak, it was him.

On the rare occasions I did speak, he would immediately belittle me and insult me.

I feel my entire body tensing up as I wait for them to do that. To be nasty.

Leon nods. “Yes. I just moved here. But I bought the house a few months ago and had a designer come in and put it together before I moved in.”

“I love it,” Chiara says. “And the pool out back is great. We can have a lot of family barbecues here.”

One of the kids knocks over their juice and I wince, waiting for someone to slap them across the back of the head or yell at them about how stupid and clumsy they are.

“Sorry, Mommy,” she says, grabbing her plate and lifting it out of the way of the flood of juice.

I feel my entire body tensing.

But Leon just stands up to reach for a pile of napkins and hands it to Maxim, who casually mops up the spill while Chiara pours her little one another glass of juice.

“No problem, sweetie,” Chiara says.

No one has anything negative to say, and the kids carry on laughing between themselves.

This has to be fake. This has to be some fake mockery just to taunt me. This can’t be real. This isn’t a normal family dinner, is it?

I’ve never experienced anything like this in my life.

I start to feel anxious and angry, knowing that they are mocking me in some way.

I feel Leon’s eyes on me. It’s a heated sort of electricity that runs along my skin. I look up at him.

“What?” I snap, annoyed about how his gaze makes me feel.

“If you don’t eat, you’ll waste away to nothing,” he smirks.

I’m too embarrassed to try and use these chopsticks in front of everyone in case they mock me for it.

“Oh, and what? Are you going to miss me if I disappear to nothing?”

“It would be considerably quiet in the house without your yelling, so I doubt it,” he throws back.

“I’m sure you’ll find another girl to—" I glance at the children. “To invite nicely into your home as a guest. ”

Maxim laughs and tries to hide it behind his hand.

Leon chuckles, and the sound of his deep voice vibrates through me, sending a shiver down my spine.

I pick up the chopsticks again, watching everyone else and trying to hold them properly. I just manage to pick up one piece of chicken, then drop it. I try again and get a few strands of noodles which I quickly put in my mouth before they slide away from me.

Leon is watching me the entire time.

“You don’t know how to use chopsticks?” he asks curiously.

“I’m sorry.I don’t usually try and eat my dinner with two sticks. I don’t even know how to hold these things.”

Chiara cracks up laughing.

“I really like her,” she says cheerfully.

Leon disappears for a moment and comes back with a fork. “Here you go, princess .”

“Oh, you do have normal utensils them?” I say sarcastically.

“Oh, we only bring them out for special occasions. When royalty such as yourself visits.”

I tilt my head down to hide the grin that sneaks onto my face.

I can’t believe it—but I am having fun.

Chiara is full of laughs and she’s so happy it’s infectious. Maxim seems like a really good guy, and I can’t help but notice how he looks at Chiara. He really loves her.

Even Leon doesn’t seem that bad tonight.

I’m actually having fun, at dinner, with strangers.

I need to remind myself where I am, though, and exactly how I came to be here. These people aren’t my friends. Leon especially. He kidnapped me and forced me to marry him. He is holding me prisoner here in his home.

But maybe, just for tonight, I might enjoy myself for a while.

I start joining in the conversation, and no one throws nasty comments at me or tells me I’m an idiot for just sharing my thoughts.

This warm family environment is so new to me that it has me thinking about the stark contract between my father and these people.

Then I start to feel sick.

What would my father do to get me back?

If he stormed in here now, what would he do to Chiara’s two little babies?

He wouldn’t spare a moment’s thought before tearing them apart just like he has done to so many other families.

I bite at my lower lip, feeling scared for their lives. I don’t think Leon has any idea what he has invited into his own life and the lives of the people he seems to love.