A Beauty So Cursed by Beena Khan

Chapter 3

Darkness filled my life since the day I was born.

I was cursed.

My father liked to remind me all the time.

I had the mark to prove it.

The blackness attached to me.

Sometimes, I liked it because it hid my appearance from myself. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hide myself from others.

The others being Miran Demir who had rejected me.

Ever since I was seventeen, I’d been told by my Papa that I would be married to Miran. I had begun to accept it and expected to be married soon. I didn’t realize that he had no interest in me at all though. No one kept me up to date anymore. I should have realized when I’d asked Papa for a formal meeting with Miran before, but Papa always brushed me aside. I’d been wondering what my future husband would be like and what would be the first thing he would say to me. It wasn’t what I’d expected at all.

Lada is too young for me.

It hit me like a blow.

He hadn’t even said hello to me.

Was that really his belief, or did he think that I was cursed like everyone else? My thoughts shifted to his voice. His deep, masculine, poetic voice. It rumbled and sent bolts of electricity through my body. He had a light Middle Eastern accent. It differed from what I was used to hearing in this household. I wished he would have spoken directly to me, but he hadn’t said one word to me at all.

My thoughts fleeted and wandered in different directions, pulling me apart as I pondered over his last statement. Maybe he didn’t like the way I looked or my visible scars.

A small sigh left my lips.

Why would a man like him want a woman like me?

My wounds were too deep, deeper than my physical scars. Nobody wanted a scarred wife. Maybe he didn’t want any part of it, and the age gap was just an excuse.

Was it really because he was an older man, and I was only a girl? I was boring, and I hadn’t interested him enough to want me. It was a blow to my pride. He was young, powerful, and wealthy. He could have anyone he wanted, but the least of all me. The rejection stung, nonetheless.

My heart sank deep in my chest. I bit down on my nails as my hands trembled at my fate.

Once we’d reached home and left Sir Alexei’s residence, Papa had already said yes to the next proposal.

I eavesdropped on his conversation, following his voice, but I didn’t catch the name of the new suitor. My heart hammered in my chest, daring to fall out. My mouth dropped open, and I wished I could unhear my father’s words.

He knew I was listening though. He’d promised me to one man without asking me, now he’d just promised me to another man without asking again.

His challenge hadn’t taken too long to turn out to be true.

I didn’t like to think of it, but I knew my father’s true intentions.

We knew the truth about Miran.

The heir of the Bratva who could be the next Pakhan.

My father had wanted the strongest alliance, and for him, it was with the true heir.

I thought Miran had accepted the match like I had.

I’d been hopeful about the marriage. I’d heard so much about him, and how he had Bratva blood in him, but he didn’t choose to partake in that life, and instead, he settled into becoming an officer of the law enforcement.

He was an enigma.

It was something… normal.

I wanted normal.

I hadn’t expected him to deny me though. I’d assumed he would agree to what the elders had decided, just like I had.

When Papa slammed his phone close, I jumped up alert. I focused my eyes on the ground as I waited for him to speak his next command.

“I have fixed your marriage with Sasha Petrov. You will be wedded in three weeks.”

I’d never felt that time could stop moving until now. Instead of the measured constant tick-tock, the clock seemed frozen.

Sasha Petrov?

No.

And… so soon?

A lump lodged in my throat, making it hard to breathe, much less speak. I swallowed with difficulty, and my throat hurt at the movement. Tears brimmed my eyes as I bit my lip to prevent them from falling. I open my mouth to speak, but the words refuse to take flight. Forcing myself to swallow, I cleared my throat.

Taking shallow breaths, I spoke.

“Papa, I don’t like Sasha.”

I winced when Papa’s heavy footsteps come closer. I was afraid he might strike me. I staggered back, trying to put a distance between us as my mind swirled, but a hand only grabbed my arm, pulling me back in the same spot.

“He is twenty-five years older than me. More than twice my age!” I protested.

“You will go through this marriage, and you will not shame me.”

“But—”

“Wipe those tears away. He is coming to meet you,” Papa interrupted.

“Right now?” I questioned, dazed. I obeyed Papa and wiped my tears. “I don’t want to marry him. He is… he is…” my voice trailed off.

A slimeball, I finished under my breath.

“I’m perfectly aware of his infatuation with you. It benefits us.” I didn’t like the way he said it like I was part of his plan too. “He is wealthy, and he has a strong position in the Brotherhood. Alexander has rejected you and now Miran.”

Alexander, our Pakhan was my father’s original choice, but I grew up around him in the mob, so he was more like a sibling. I was secretly pleased he’d denied the alliance. Sir Alexei pushed Papa in Miran’s direction afterward. Alexei claimed he would make Miran agree, but it hadn’t worked out.

Was it my condition?

The reason for their denial?

The insecurity always ate me alive.

“He might not be the most powerful, but he is strong,” Papa added.

Everyone that I knew spoke about how handsome the rogue Sasha Petrov was with his dark brown eyes and curly raven hair. It didn’t change the fact that his insides were monstrous.

Tears prickled the back of my eyes, threatening to overwhelm my face, but I blinked them away. I sniffled, but it was no use, and the tears fell down my face like a dam. I stood in front of my father with clenched fists.

“I won’t do it!” I protested. “I won’t marry a rogue like him.”

My stomach twisted in knots as my treacherous mouth spoke. Before I could regret my words, a flat of a hand caught my cheek so hard, I staggered back in shock. Papa had never hit me before. His hand struck against my other cheek. His hands were icy and cold. I cried out, stumbling back again.

The slaps were like fire on my skin. My eyes swam with tears as I nursed my bruised cheeks. The right side of my face tingled. From time to time, my scars still hurt when touched deeply. The numbness in them never really went away. Sharp pain etched more on my right side, turning much worse than a burn.

“You will do as you’re told! He is less than ten minutes away,” Papa exclaimed, dismissing my pain. He grabbed and twisted my arm, making me cry out again.

“You are an ungrateful child. You don’t like the riches, jewels, and stability he can offer you?” he snarled. “Cry now, and then entertain him for a few minutes. Now, I’m thinking the problem truly is with you. When you were five years old, you killed your mother. Your birth was a curse on us. I wish I never had a daughter. “

Papa had let go of me. It was getting harder to breathe, and I wanted to claw at my throat to inhale air. I was always told Mama had died in a fire the day of my accident, yet Papa liked to remind me I was the reason for her death. It still hurt every time he did. I had thought deep down, he secretly still cared about me, but as time went on, I realized I was just an ugly daughter to him.

A burden.

He hated me far more than I’d realized.

I’d heard rumors from the servants gossiping that he’d killed my mother. They’d always stopped when I got too close to them. I’d heard enough by then, but I’d always closed my ears, shutting out the voices, pretending I was deaf.

It pained me more to think of my father as a murderer. He was a mobster, yes, but we didn’t hurt our family. It was our code.

“One day, you will thank me for finding a man who accepts you,” he finished.

He patted my shoulder like I was a pathetic dog, and his footsteps moved from me, leaving me alone in silence.

What kind of father says that to their child?

He wanted a powerful alliance, and he wanted to make me sacrifice my body, soul, and happiness. I shook my head. I wouldn’t go through with it. I refused. I needed to seek help. I’d lived alone with Papa for the past four years. My older brothers Vova and Sergei were married, and they lived separately with their own families.

I pulled out my cell phone from my dress’ pocket.

“Siri, call Vova.”

“Calling Vova,” the machine replied, and the phone started ringing.

On the third ring, my eldest brother picked up.

“Hello, сестра,” Vova’s deep voice answered.

I choked on a breath that I was holding in. I was unsteady on my wobbling knees, and I tried to cross them so I wouldn’t fall, but I ended up making my way to the couch.

One step, two steps, three steps, four, five…

I collapsed on the couch, taking gulps of air as my hands squeezed the soft fabric. I tried clearing my face of tears, but they kept coming in full force.

“Hello,” I mumbled, “Papa has fixed my marriage.”

Vova was silent before he replied, “Yes, I was the one who had encouraged Sasha’s proposal.”

I almost dropped my phone on the floor, and the hope I had in my heart diminished.

“W-what?” I asked with disbelief. “Sasha is inappropriate with me!”

Vova calmly replied, “He’s told me those times were accidents.”

How did one’s bottom fall into someone’s hands accidentally?

“You believe him over me?” I whispered with betrayal etched in my voice.

“сестра …” Vova began like he was speaking with a toddler. “Sasha will take care and provide for you. You are safer with him than you are with… Papa,” he added that last part in a whisper.

I frowned and bit down on my lip.

“If my safety truly matters to you, then why am I…” my voice cracked before I cleared it, “Why am I not living with you?”

My brother was silent for a few seconds before he replied, “In a marriage, there can’t be a third person, сестра.”

“T-that’s not true,” I sputtered, “Ma’am Galina lived with Sir Kaya and Ma’am Roza.”

Well technically, that was a partnership, but it still counted.

Vova sucked in a breath. “You are marrying Sasha, Lada. Obey Papa. Sasha is a man, just smile at him, and he will melt like butter.”

I couldn’t believe he was telling me to use my womanly charms on Sasha. What was wrong with him? I wiped my face with the back of my sleeve before I declared, “I am calling Sergei. He will help me.”

“Our brother agrees,” Vova said softly.

I clutched the phone tighter in my hand.

I never felt so alone until now.

My heart cracked into pieces.

“Why do you all want to get rid of me so fast…. to Sasha of all people?” I asked, my voice laced with heartbreak. “There can be other suitors.”

Silence greeted me on the other end.

I was afraid my brother had hung up but then he said, “There were only three suitors for you. One was a single man with three children, the eldest child being sixteen.” I sucked in a breath. “The other suitor wasn’t wealthy enough, he was in a wheelchair… and the third suitor was Sasha.”

My world came crumbling down again.

They had picked the worse out of the bunch.

“You are of age now, and the suitors are limited,” he hesitated before he added, “You have… flaws as much as I hate to admit.”

I inhaled a sharp breath. He might as well have called me cursed and stuck a dagger through my heart. I sniffled and Vova sighed before he chided, “Now, don’t cry. Sasha is healthy, wealthy, and powerful. Yes, he is much older than you, I agree, but he’s a dedicated Vor, soldier who serves our Pakhan. He’s single, and he doesn’t have any children.”

But he keeps mistresses. I wanted to protest. That I was sure of.

Realizing I was stuck in a situation that wasn’t in my control, I mumbled, Goodbye, to my brother.

“Don’t be like that. I’ll see you soon, okay? And we’ll meet at the wedding,” he promised.

I only nodded even though he couldn’t see.

After he hung up, I curled my fingers on the phone tightly for a few moments, unsure of what my next step should be. My brothers supported Papa, and I didn’t have anyone else. I couldn’t ask Sir Alexei or the Pakhan for help. Sir Alexei basically had given his blessings. They wouldn’t interfere with family matters.

My time was running out, and silence was filling my soul with numbness.

The frustration inside me built up, burning me, and I thought I might explode. My emotions swirled faster than a child’s spinning a top as my heart cried. I took a deep breath, but deep inside, I wanted to shout, have a tantrum, and beat my hands on the ground like a toddler.

I wiped my face against my shoulder. My face felt wet and splotchy. I needed to wash my face and give it a good rinse before making myself presentable.

Sasha would be here soon.

Feeling defeated, I sighed as I rose to my feet and put my phone away. I’d just made it a few feet when a scent of strong, overwhelming spicy cologne mixed with bourbon penetrated my nostrils. I grimaced at the potent scent and paused.

He didn’t have to speak, as I knew it was him.

I was no longer alone.

Electric energy ran in the air, heavy and tangible. Chills ran in my blood, the coldness bringing the synapses of my brain to a halt. Whenever he was around me, he stole the spring and any brightness in my life, leaving me in the cold winter.

“Hello, milaya,” Sasha’s deep voice slurred behind me.

I would never be his darling.

It was still early hours, and he’d already started drinking.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I forced myself to keep breathing. My heartbeat quickened, beating hard like a drummer. Not bothering to turn around, I stayed glued to the spot. His heavy footsteps made their way toward me, every step echoing in my ears, reminding me of my fate that was coming.

Soon, I would belong to him, and he would do whatever he wanted with me.

I lifted my blank eyes and stared emptily straight ahead.

“Congratulations, fiancé,” he said.

Fiancé. I’d been thinking about marrying Miran Demir this afternoon and by evening, I was betrothed to Sasha Petrov.

I wanted to scream, find someone your own age.

Well…. you didn’t think that about Miran, did you? my inner voice chided.

I moved to leave, but I ended up hitting his hard chest. I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart jackknifed in fear as I cowered back and inhaled a rigid breath.

“I’d say you’re just trying to find ways to touch me,” he whispered.

He was so arrogant, living in a bubble and delusion, believing that I wanted him too, even though I had made my intentions clear before. Was that what he told himself whenever he met me?

Not again. Not now.

My throat felt raw, and I was trapped and overwhelmed by him. His presence was only a slap of reality. I couldn’t stand him near me. How could I marry him and declare vows to love him?

A second later, the tendrils in front of my face were in his grasp, and he tugged on the strands. I pulled back, but he only gripped the strand harder, invading and eliminating the personal space between us.

My insides coiled in knots, and my senses heightened at the pulse of my heart thudding. My Papa knew of his true nature, yet I was told I had to marry him.

It wasn’t the first time he had touched me.

In the last year, I had many encounters with him at events where his wandering hand had “accidentally” brushed against my hips or back. One time, it even went far to him gripping my butt. It was no accident no matter what he had claimed. His scent always gave him away.

It was all lies.

His true colors were finally being revealed now that we were soon to be married.

“I’ve missed you, my beauty,” he whispered, his hot breath landing on my nape. My skin crawled where his breath landed. I bit down on my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

“You know, I could have anyone I wanted… the richest and the most beautiful woman, and then there is you… You dress like a peasant,” Sasha declared.

I clasped my hands in front of me, feeling small.

“You dress really unsexy,” he added.

I took that one as a compliment.

I liked the comfortable dresses that I wore.

At least Papa didn’t ask me to parade around in tight dresses.

“I don’t dress for you,” I muttered under my breath.

He chuckled. “But you will or maybe I’ll parade you around in nothing at all as my trophy wife so the world could see.” My heart shriveled up inside. “Besides, you have the most beautiful natural beauty. You are still a sight, even with those hideous scars. Tell me, does your body have scars too? Is it damaged too? I should investigate you properly before marrying you.”

I winced at the blow, and my heart shattered at the insult. I wanted to close my eyes to the cruel words coming out of his rogue mouth. I didn’t bother to ask what he had meant when he’d said the word investigate. His intentions were pretty clear.

I didn’t have scars on my body, only my face. My hand raised to my scarred right cheek. I could still feel the jagged marks on the surface of my skin. My scars might be ugly, but they were my scars. They were as much a part of me as the molecules that had built me.

My ears perked up when he shifted closer, and stiff lips brushed against my neck. He was so cold like a dead fish. Rough skin brushed against my neck, and his lips were everywhere at once. I jerked back, but he gripped my waist tightly.

“Stop,” I demanded in a low, quiet voice.

He chuckled as he continued whispering, “You intrigue me. That makes you mine.”

My heart dropped low into my chest.

I didn’t want to be his.

“Besides, stop what, huh?”

His bourbon breath hit my face full force. It was getting closer and closer to me by the second. His hands began to wander free over my body.

“Stop this?” he mocked as he reached out and cupped my breast over my thin dress.

My mouth dropped at being touched there for the first time. I had zero experience with men. I’d dated no one, not because I didn’t want to but well… because I’d never been asked out before. Whenever men were around me, they gasped, and their footsteps went running down the hills.

It was strange.

Rumor had it that the Russian soldiers had bullet and dagger scars. They paraded those around like a badge of honor. I’d survived an incident too, but my scars were a plague and not considered on the same level as theirs. When men had scars, it was considered sexy and dangerous… but when I did, as a female, I was called ugly.

An abomination. Hideous. Beast.

I swatted Sasha’s meaty paws away and breathed hard through my nose.

“Or this?” he continued in a harsh whisper, trailing a finger to my nipple and pinching it through the fabric with his thumb and forefinger.

The pinch summoned a flash of anger through my body. Hatred like I’d never known before pounded through my body. I moved back from him, but he still had my nub in his grasp, twisting it harder by the second.

I wished I was anywhere but here. I wished I could stop feeling. I never closed my eyes when he touched me. There was no point anyway.

Darkness greeted me from all angles.

It was a part of me.

Rough hands parted my legs, making me inhale sharply. I squeezed my legs tightly to prevent his hand from going anywhere. My heart raced, and the blood pulsed into my throat and head. My chest ached like I’d ran a marathon in heels.

“Beautiful.” His voice was a whisper against my skin.

He only liked my body, not me.

I flinched and pushed him back.

“Hello, Sasha,” my Papa’s voice came, interrupting him.

He paused and dropped his filthy paws.

I exhaled a ragged breath in relief. I was grateful my father had intervened. Papa was selfish, it was true, but deep down, I knew he wouldn’t want me to be hurt… at least not before marriage. Or at least, that’s what I liked to believe to make myself feel better.

“Hello, father-in-law,” Sasha teased, and I knew from his voice, he was smiling.

He was an excellent pretender, so posh and rogue with his charms at the same time and turning everyone into a fool. I thought he was leaving, but he leaned in and whispered, “You got away this time. On our wedding night, no one will save you when I claim you, milaya. Ready or not, I don’t care. I will take you by force.”

My pulse quickened, and my shoulders sagged forward in defeat.

“I wanted to give you this and seal the deal.”

Deal. I meant nothing to him.

His calloused hand roughly grabbed my right hand and placed a cold, heavy metal object on my finger, branding me as his possession. I knew it was an engagement ring.

“Now, let’s talk about the wedding date, shall we?” Sasha asked, his footsteps retreating and leaving me to stare into nothing.

As deep as Sasha’s words had cut, they bore the truth. It was spring outside, but winter was in my soul, and it wasn’t leaving this time.