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I stop the urge to fly at him and scratch his beautiful face with my perfectly groomed fingernails. I take a few breaths to still the anger rising inside me. It’s nearly over. I won’t let my emotions cloud my judgment this time and ruin my plans again.
“Isabella?” Andrey’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know, Andrey.” I look at him, my mask slipping back into place. “You tell me. I’m your puppet. You’re the one pulling all the strings, so you tell me if I’m supposed to be okay or not.”
“Let’s not do this now, Isabella.” Andrey’s eyes fill with warning. “I’ve left you alone for two days. I let you have your peace.”
“Then, as soon as the I do’s were said, you were back on exerting your dominance and showing me how weak my flesh is,” I tell him. “Congratulations, it seems I haven’t gotten over the Andrey allergy yet.”
I feel him stiffen and suck in a breath. Before he can say anything, I see Genevra walking towards us with a tray. It only has one glass on it, and she smiles. I take it off the tray. She nods and carries on walking. I take a big swallow of the apple juice that looks just like the champagne being served.
Andrey grabs my wrist painfully. “How many of those have you had?”
I shrug. “Fucked if I know.” I look at the glass and down it. Before he can do anything, I see Davey by the champagne tower. His finger taps a glass. I pull my wrist from Andrey. “Let me go. This is my birthday. The last day I have to be me, so back off.”
Andrey lets go of my wrist. I walk to where Davey is pouring the champagne. I put the empty glass down and take the one he pointed to. This is real champagne. I take a sip just in case my brute of a husband kisses me.
“No more champagne for my wife,” Andrey barks at Davey, who nods.
“Yes, sir,” Davey says, picking up the empty glasses, including my apple juice one, and disappearing.
“Fuck you,” I sneer, and I’m about to walk off, but Andrey grabs my arm and drags me inside.
“Your bedroom?” He looks up the sweeping staircase. “Which one is it?”
“Is everything alright, Mr. Belov?” Genevra steps out of the front living room.
“I’d like some alone time with my wife,“ Andrey snarls at her.
“I believe Mr. Moretti was asking for you, Mr. Belov,” Genevra tells him. “He’d like to give Isabella her birthday present with you there.” Her expression changes, and her eyes bore into Andrey’s. “Mr. Moretti doesn’t like to be kept waiting or disrespected in his own home.”
“Very well,” Andrey says and glares at me. “But after that, you and I need to talk about your irresponsible drinking.” His eyes travel pointedly to my belly. “I believe it’s very likely that you could be carrying our child.”
I hear Genevra suck in her breath. I look at her, and something flashes in her eyes, but it’s gone before anyone can decipher what it is. Genevra nods and looks at Isabella. “While you’re getting it ready, I’ll take Isabella to help her change.”
Andrey’s eyes search Genevra’s before looking at me. “No more alcohol, Isabella,” he commands before pulling me to him and kissing me. “You have fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, sir!” I salute him, and his eyes narrow for a few seconds before he walks off.
“Come, child,” Genevra turns back into someone I don’t recognize, and it’s confusing. “We don’t have much time.”
“We still have a couple of hours before the guests start to leave,” I tell her.
“We’ve had to move things up a bit,” Genevra tells me. “Your father wasn’t supposed to give you your present until everyone had gone.”
“Genevra, we can’t… you know, to all the guests.” My eyes widen with concern. “Seriously. I can’t have this plan ruined.”
“I promise you, sweet girl, this time it won’t fail,” Genevra assures me. “We have help.”
“What?” I look at her, confused. “What help?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Genevra pulls me into my room. “I’ve put those cotton pants you like, your blue silk shirt, and wedge sandals out for you.”
“Not very…” I eye the items and can’t suppress a giggle as I say. “Honeymooney.”
“You’re not going on honeymoon,” Genevra whispers. “Now change.”
Genevra helps me get out of the wedding dress. She doesn’t comment when she notices my panties are missing.
