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I really shouldn’t tease him about his age because, to be honest, Sergey has more stamina than a triathlon winner. But there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that I don't often hear. The more time I spend with him, the more I'm convinced that there are two very different people living inside him.
At first glance, there is a powerful man who controls part of the New York underworld and doesn’t hesitate to kill those who get in his way. He is not a man who seems the least bit capable of love or affection, although he is charming when he wants to be.
And then there is the other man. The seducer who devours my body with such hunger and admiration like I’m the only woman he wants to be with, that I keep coming back for more, even though I know my father would want me to look for a way out.
Screw what he wants. He never protected me, and he may have loved me, but love doesn't count as much as protection in this world.
That's what I try to tell myself so that the sting of his lack of affection hurts less. Part of me wishes this wedding had meant more, something more than just the reunion to legitimize our child. I had hoped that there would be a man next to me whom I would love and that he would love me just as much.
The only problem is that even if I am falling for the glimpses of the playful and warm Sergey, there is still the beast that stands in the way. The one I’m sure won’t allow his playful side to love me.
If he doesn’t love me, is he truly going to protect me?
I have no doubts that he would protect our child, but when it comes to my life, I have my concerns. Eventually, he could get bored of me, and this could all change.
I don’t think I want to know either, it's one thing to suspect that he may kill me, and yet another thing to be quite sure.
Sergey nods to Denis as the car rolls alongside the curb. Denis glances at us from the driver’s seat, tipping his head to me as Sergey pulls open the passenger door. Denis gets out of the car and stands to the side, watching the area around us.
I slide into the seat, careful not to damage the beautiful dress.
Though it was not the wedding I wanted, the ceremony was the best thing for the baby. Even if something should happen to me, Sergey will take care of our child.
Our baby deserves to have the family I never had, and that's what I try to give him, even if it's at the expense of my happiness.
I suppose that's what it means to be a mother.
Even if the baby isn't here yet, I know I'd give up every ounce of my joy.
Sergey settles in beside me, slamming the door shut behind him. “Home we go, my wife.”
His voice is soft and sweet. For just a fleeting second, it’s easy to picture this as the wedding of my dreams. I’m going back home after a long night dancing and celebrating with the person I love the most in the world.
Except this is reality.
This isn’t the night after the wedding I had dreamed of either. It’s the middle of the afternoon and we’re going back to the home that is finally starting to feel a little less like a prison.
Sergey looks over at me, his gaze falls on my seatbelt before he adjusts his mirrors. Black cars follow behind us as he pulls the SUV away from the curb. He speeds through the streets of New York, swearing every time the traffic lights turn red or a cab blocks his way.
We arrive at what feels like the millionth red light, “Anna, there's something I have to share with you now that we're married.”
Curiosity surges inside me. I wait for him to tell me what is, but the words never come. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, gunfire echoes outside. Bullets bounce off the windshield.
“Fuck!”
I scream as another bullet hits my door. Sergey accelerates and the car shoots forward, skids through the red light and swerves to avoid oncoming traffic. He yanks the steering wheel hard to the right. The tires squeal on the asphalt as he turns into another street.
I hold on tight as he hurls the car into an alley. Dumpsters whiz past us on both sides, and the bullets are still bouncing off the car.
“For fuck’s sake. Who are these people? How did they even know where I was?”
He grips the wheel until his knuckles are white, flying out the other side of the alley and taking a hard left. The seatbelt locks as the car straightens. I fly to the other side of the seat, my shoulder smashing into the window.
Pain blossoms in my shoulder but it is nothing compared to the fear that floods through me as we cut through the traffic.
When I glance in the mirror, there is another black vehicle behind us, but I don’t recognize it as one of Sergey’s. Men lean out of windows, guns pointed at us.
“They’re getting closer,” I say, my voice wavering and my hands shaking as I clasp my seatbelt. “Who are they? Why are they shooting at us?”
