Page 9

Fast forward to a month later—my wedding day. As I stood before the full-length mirror, my lace gown shimmering in the soft light, I stiffened my body, steadying my heartbeat.

Tears stung my eyes, threatening to stream down my cheeks, and my lips trembled as I struggled to remain calm.

“You've got this, Lori,” I whispered to myself, my voice filled with encouragement. “Don't shed a single tear for that man. He's not worth it.”

My breathing was jagged as I fought so hard to hold back the tears in my eyes. I shot my head toward the ceiling in an attempt to push them back inside.

Tearing up now wouldn't change anything; it would only make me look weak and pathetic, not to mention the damage it would do to my makeup. It was almost time to walk down the aisle—to meet my groom at the altar.

My heart sank into my stomach at the thought of spending an eternity with the man I loathed most in the world. By now, I should’ve come to terms with my reality. I still hadn't.

Maybe I never would. Perhaps I'd figure out a way to manage this so-called “marriage,” but I knew I would spend the rest of my life in pain and misery.

My palms grew sweaty as this thought crossed my mind, goosebumps pricking my skin. The mirror reflected my pale complexion, my chest slowly rising and falling. The deafening sound of my own breathing thundered in my ears.

Marrying Alexei Tarasov would make me the devil's bride. Oh, the agony and torture I would have to endure. I'd be living in hell on Earth with no one coming to save me.

It was suddenly hot in here, and the gown's corset tightened around my waist. I felt choked up, the realization of my predicament settling deeper into my mind and soul, crippling me from within.

I fanned my face with fluttering fingers, puffing out quick, nervous breaths. The taste of bile rose in my throat, my chest constricting as I swayed, a little light-headed from that nervousness.

I was about to give up everything—my life, my happiness, my future—all for what? The family business? Was it worth it? The family name would escape shame and disgrace while I rotted in hell. The business would flourish at the expense of my freedom, and while it grew, I would slowly disappear into the darkness until I was no more.

My dad had chosen to make me the sacrificial lamb. What a loving man—a real father of the year.

A gentle knock on the door cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. I turned my head, and there he was, dressed up in a fine white tuxedo with a black bow tie around his neck.

Speak of the devil.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Dad stepped inside, eyes crinkling at the corners as he beamed.

Of course, he looked delighted. His business was safe and sound, thanks to the selflessness of his eldest daughter.

Don't you ‘sweetheart’ me, you heartless…. I shut my eyes momentarily, cautioning my thoughts.

“It's time.” He extended a hand, his gaze fixed on me.

“…to give me away to a ruthless beast with a dead conscience,” I whispered, a bitter taste spreading through my mouth as my eyes dropped to the floor, my lips twitching into a silent snarl.

He exhaled sharply, swiping a palm across his face. Both hands then went to rest on his waist. “Listen, sweetheart….”

Here we go , I thought, watching as he stepped forward, closing the gap between us.

He hesitated for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want you to know that what you're doing…it's deeply appreciated.” The slight pause came when he nodded his head. “I know this looks bad. But who knows, it just might turn fine in the end.” He shrugged.

My brows arched at his words. He was gambling with my future and didn't see anything wrong with that. Classic!

What if it didn't turn out fine in the end? What would be my fate? I could have asked him this question, but then we'd just start running around in circles again. It was pointless. The deal had been struck, and now, it was time for me to play my part.

“Let's just get this over with,” I said softly, clenching my jaw as I tried to mask my pain.

His lips curved into a wide grin as he extended his elbow, ignorant or simply nonchalant in the face of my agony. I beamed a plastic smile and locked my elbow in his, taking a deep breath.

Heads turned as we glided down the aisle, Dad's face beaming with pride as he strolled with confidence and an unwavering grin.

“You don't have to like this, but the least you can do is smile,” he whispered to me through gritted teeth, his grin unaffected by his words.

My lips parted, broadening my plastic smile as I matched his pace—graceful. My chest heaved slowly, tension creeping into my body the closer we drew to the altar.

I blinked back my tears, my heart racing, protesting the union ahead. I was only inches away from making the worst decision of my life, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I could feel the guests’ gazes lingering on me, but that was the least of my problems right now. My attention was consumed by a more daunting presence that held my gaze—the tall man on the altar whose intimidating gaze stole my breath. Alexei Tarasov.

He stood poised before the priest, resplendent in his tailored black tuxedo that simmered in the lights. His black jacket accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled physique while his cold and calculating eyes were fixed on me.

His expression was blank—stoic—highlighting his ruggedness and sending shivers down my spine.

My mouth felt dry as if parched as we locked eyes in a fleeting moment. I felt my heart sink into my stomach, my pulse quickening as a wave of anxiety washed over me.

My palms were greasy all of a sudden, and cold sweat dampened my forehead. The dryness in my throat made it difficult to swallow, but I was determined not to show my nervousness.

Why should I be nervous? I was only getting married to the devil himself, no big deal!

“You look stunning, by the way,” Dad whispered, stealing a glance at me.

Under different circumstances, I'd have beamed genuinely, and my cheeks would have flushed at his words. But not today. His remark didn't mean shit to me.

As we reached the altar, I felt Dad's arm slipping out of mine as he released me, literally handing me over to Alexei Tarasov.

I felt a pang of irritation and abandonment as he withdrew, joining the congregation. My gaze shifted to Darcy, seated among the guests. She was impeccably dressed to impress in an elegant flowered gown that hugged her like a second skin, highlighting her curves.

She caught my eyes and subtly wiggled her fingers. It seemed like a harmless gesture, but I knew her all too well; she was mocking me.

I narrowed my eyes, brows forming faint creases as I ignored her and took my place in front of this insanely handsome devil.

His cold eyes bore into mine, and I cast a subtle glare at him, my jaw tightening, heart heavy with resignation. He could tell how much this was hurting me, hence the smirk on his face.

A scowl settled on my lips, but that seemed to deepen his smirk.

God! I hated this man!

I could feel the rage swelling up within me, mixed with pain and sadness. The priest's voice droned on, but I barely heard the words; I was too focused on the man responsible for my misery.

However, I was forced back to the present at the mention of my name, and the priest's words hit me like an arrow to the heart.

“Do you, Lorena Campbell, take this man, Alexei Tarasov, to be your lawfully wedded husband…?” His eyes were fixated on me.

My heart raced faster than it ever had before, and my legs immediately turned to jelly—too weak to carry my weight. The question had thrown me off balance, and even though I had prepared myself for this moment, it still hit me differently.

My breath lodged in my throat as I steeled myself, my trembling lips unable to supply the appropriate response.

Alexei's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as his gaze intensified—a subtle warning that I better not embarrass him.

The priest cleared his throat conspicuously, a quick reminder that his question was left hanging.

“I do,” the words finally came through, my lips quivering as I uttered them.

The priest shifted his gaze to Alexei and asked him the same questions.

Without a moment of hesitation, he replied, “I do.”

With eyes shining warmly, the priest made the final statement that sealed my fate. He said, “With the power bestowed on me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He faced Alexei. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Alexei's lips curved into a sly grin as he reached forward and raised my chin. My body trembled at his touch, my heart racing with anticipation.

As he leaned in to kiss me, I steeled myself, closing my eyes in disgust. However, the moment his lips touched mine, grazing softly against them, the contact sparked a flutter in my chest.

I felt a treacherous warmth spreading across my body, threatening to undermine my resolve. A flame ignited within me, and my heart swelled with desire.

What the hell?

I opened my eyes, unable to understand this overwhelming sensation coursing through my body. I locked eyes with him as he withdrew, his gaze tracing over my figure.

A spark of electricity surged through my blood as I wondered what had just happened. The kiss was supposed to repulse me, but it had the opposite effect—why?

This fleeting tenderness he exhibited stirred up something within me, and I hated it—I hated how good it felt.

However, I just stared at him with a blank expression, denying the feeling that had ignited within me.