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I lifted my head and sniffled, ignoring the strangers on either side of the pews, all from the groom’s side. I had no one here. I’d never in my wildest dreams imagined that I would walk down the aisle alone. No family, no friends...nothing, and I wanted to laugh at the irony of the wedding setting, the very place that should have advocated for my husband-to-be’s soul to rot in the damnation of hell—the church.
Nadia, Egor’s forty-five-year-old aunt, thought it would look great in the photos, so I heard from a birdie called Anna that she persuaded the priest and insisted on it and also had her father endorse it, leaving themighty Pahkanrather impatient for the wedding ceremony to be concluded soon.
As I moved through the crowd, I heard whispers, some complimentary, while others were mere gossip about how Egor and I met and why the marriage was soon.
One whisperer got it right.
“When it happens this fast, believe me, the bride’s pregnant.”
And Iwaspregnant, so there were no arguments there.
It was the only reason I was still alive. The only reason this wedding was happening at all, and because of it, my life was going to be sealed in this loveless union for eternity—or until one of us died.
Hesitantly, I climbed the podium, standing in front of him. I wasn’t sure why, but seeing him reminded me of the movieThe Devil Wears Prada.Only, in this case, the devil wore Armani and expensive perfume and looked annoyingly handsome with his hair combed back and an unreadable smug expression plastered on his chiseled face while he ruined my life.
I thought my hate for him couldn’t grow any bigger until now.
Someone reached for my withering flowers, and, deducing from the tattooed fingers, it was Anatoly. He would probably trash the poor flowers anyway or stomp them under his big feet.
The priest began the ceremony, and the hall fell quiet. I struggled to block out his words, not eager to hear the process leading to my demise, but then the exchange of vows part came, and Egor went first.
Don’t cry, Freya.
I sniffled.
His eyes were cold when he took my hand and grew even colder when he lifted my finger.
I swear I fought to block him out, but bits of his utterances forced their way inside my ears.
I vow to stand by your side...forever and always.
The aged priest turned to me, signaling my turn, and I didn’t bother with being original. I reiterated the parts of his vows I’d heard and blinked out the teardrop that hung in my eye.
Egor closed in, lifted the lacy veil, and his eyes made the slightest twitch when he saw my tears.
He didn’t wipe it off, just leaned in, and his lips brushed mine in an unexpected, gentle caress.
I stood frozen. It was as if my mind and body were two separate entities, warring with each other. My mind seethed with hatred, but my body...my body craved him like a drug. Itwas like his touch awakened a hunger in me, a hunger that couldn’t be satisfied no matter how much I tried to resist.
A part of me wanted to push him away in the presence of all these people, scream, and struggle; instead, I felt myself melting into his touch.
Chapter 19 – Egor
Anatoly drove us back to the penthouse after the reception, and while he turned in for the night, Freya walked quietly behind me like a prisoner in chains. Ignoring her, I went into my room, and she passed to hers. I peeled off my clothes, strolling over to the bathroom for a hot shower to soothe aching nerves.
When I got out, she was standing by the door with a frown, like an unwanted visitor, with her long hair draped behind her shoulder like a river of night and her wedding dress sparkling from the city lights through the window. Her heated gaze wandered from the tattoos on my neck and chest, traveled down the grooves and ridges of my abs and bare chest to the ripples of water resting on my torso, and finally settled on the short towel wrapped around my waist.
Her cheeks glowed crimson, and she dragged her eyes back up to mine.
“Anna says I no longer have access to my room.”
I brushed past her to grab my phone from the edge of the bed and felt her flinch. Body contact with me must have really been her worst nightmare. Sadly for her, the feeling was not mutual.
After responding to a thread of a dozen congratulatory messages from Nikolai and reviewing a few work emails from Arlo, I dropped it and turned to her. “Consider yourself set free, prisoner. You are a married woman now. You no longer have to stay in your jail cell. This is your room now. What’s mine is yours, and the rest of that blah-blah-blah shit, but with conditions.”
Her nose scrunched up as if I had delivered the most irritable news, but she stayed tight-lipped and didn’t cause a fussas I expected her to, so I added, “By the way, you should take a bath. Anna left a little gift in there for you, too. I’m sure you’d love it.”
“I’m sure I would,” she muttered under her breath and grumbled a bunch of incoherent things.
