Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder
Chapter 12
Paige
I spend two days wearing the same clothes until I finally tell a young maid to get me something clean to wear. She looks as if I’m a fluffy Pomeranian that somehow learned how to speak. I shake my head at her ignorance as she twists her lips in disgust. The woman has to unlock a door to get in here, but somehow it’s my fault that I have no clothes. At least they don’t forget to feed me.
The temptation is great to push a tall seven-drawer dresser in front of the door. Wouldn’t they freak if they couldn’t get in? If I turned the tables and kept them out of my room? My room. This isn’t my room. I don’t belong here.
By that afternoon, the walk-in closet is packed with clothing. All designer labels, and the price tags are still attached. I gawk at a pair of jeans that cost seven hundred dollars. I step further into the closet, three walls hung with clothing that I could never afford. Hell, I could never imagine this stuff even existed. I grab hold of a leather jacket that is so soft it feels like ice cream melting on my tongue. I moan as I press it to my cheek.
“I almost kept that one for myself.”
My eyes fly open, and I stare at a tall redhead standing in the door. She’s dressed in a black silk shirt and narrow jeans. Her hips are slim and her legs are long. A gun holster completes her outfit, hanging underneath her arm the same way some women wear their purses.
She walks. Excuse me. She glides over toward a navy print maxi dress. And takes it off the rack. “Not my taste, but it works for you. No one could figure out your taste in clothes.” Her eyes travel down to my grungy leggings, bagging at the knees.
“Tomorrow afternoon is your fitting for your wedding dress.” She tosses the dress onto the gray ottoman in the center of the room. “Pick one you like.”
I feel ill. “Who are you?”
She sucks in her cheeks and eyes the corner of the closet. It’s the first time I notice the camera in the ceiling. “I am Natasha, your personal bodyguard. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe.” Her eyes lift to mine and hold my nervous gaze. “And to keep you from running away.”
Natasha smiles, but it’s far from friendly. She’s using all her senses to appraise me. To decide if I’m worth the bother. “You seem smart, so I hope I only have to say this once. My job is to keep you alive, and I can only do that if you take the situation seriously.”
“And what’s the situation?” I ask in a low voice.
Natasha steps into my space; the tips of our shoes almost touch, but I don’t dare step back. She wants to intimidate me and she is, but I refuse to be scared. She smiles again; her green eyes glint like a snake sizing up its opponent. Will I be a threat or a meal?
Natasha spins away and grabs a teal blouse off a hanger.
“In the Bratva, you owe your husband more than the slit between your legs,” she whispers. “You owe him respect. Because of him you will be in a position of power without getting your hands dirty. Do you realize how lucky you are?”
And say nothing, Little Ms. Lucky.
My spine stiffens. “So what?”
Natasha tosses the blouse away, places her index finger against my chin, and slides it over my cheek, pulling my hair behind my ear as she speaks.
“You don’t know,” she says. “How many others would quite literally kill to stand where you do now.”
“I don’t want to be here,” I reply.
“But this is where destiny has placed you.” Natasha laughs as she leaves the room. “Lucky, lucky girl.”
I rush out behind her. “What if I don’t want to marry him?
“Then you should’ve run the moment you saw him.”Natasha stops. “But you didn’t. And you don’t have that choice anymore.”
