Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder

 

Chapter 13

Paige

 

Today, the man with a scar on his face—who I learned is named Dmitri—wears a suit but no tie as he waits at the bottom of the staircase for me and Natasha to descend. Dmitri has combed his bangs over his scar. It’s not much, but enough to make him look less terrifying. He only wears his hair combed back when he wants to look threatening, I guess.

 

A silent guard walks behind us while Dmitri and Natasha have a conversation. About what, I don’t know. They rarely speak English in front of me, and I don’t know Russian.

 

We enter a huge white and gold room. Swirls of gold molding decorate the walls like a tiered cake, and a row of arched windows look out onto a perfectly green lawn. My steps slow to a stop, and I can’t take my eyes off the painting above my head of angels playing in a heavenly sky.

 

“It is a replica of the ballroom at the Catherine Palace outside of St. Petersburg. Have you been?” asks Dmitri.

 

It’s impossible to form words as I take in the opulent beauty of the room. I’ve seen pictures of the palaces in books around my father’s house. It’s what piqued my interest in photography, but even viewing a copy in reality is just breathtaking.

 

“A replica?” I ask breathlessly.

 

“Very close to the original. You must ask Andrei to take you,” he continues. “It was a summer residence of the Tsars. I went there as a boy to dance with the Kirov Ballet. That is where I met Andrei.”

 

“Andrei was a dancer?” I caught myself. I’m not supposed to be in awe of this man. Andrei is holding me against my will and forcing me to marry him. And his two goons are keeping a close eye on me.

 

Natasha gives Dmitri a sharp look that makes him smirk. “Why don’t you have a seat, Paige …” She pauses.

 

“Natasha wants to be respectful,” Dmitri explains. “She needs to know what your patronymic is. Your father’s name, please.”

 

“Gerald,” I say quietly.

 

“Khorosho,” Natasha says. “Sit, Paige Geraldovna.” She pats the chair between her and Dmitri, then lights a cigarette. “They’re about to bring in the dresses.”

 

“Have you ever thought of marrying, Natasha?” Dmitri grins slyly at her and then at his phone.

 

Natasha stiffens and looks straight ahead. “My aunt had seven children with her husband. She was counting the days until all her children left home so that my uncle would drop dead of food poisoning.”

 

“Convenient.” Dmitri looks up from his phone. “And did he?”

 

“Of course he did, silly man.”

 

“Her lover must have poisoned him and given her an alibi.”

 

“Sometimes it’s easier to say no, Dima.” Natasha takes a pull on her long dark cigarette. “Painless. Like tearing off a bandage or slitting a throat. Whatever it is, just finish quickly. But that’s never been a problem for you, has it?”

 

Suddenly, they’re silent as they remember I’m sitting right there, listening, and gripping the end of my chair so hard my knuckles turn white.

 

“This one,” Natasha adds quickly. “She’s a lucky girl.”

 

They both murmur in agreement, but it’s not convincing. I’m getting the fuck out of here today.

 

The first of the racks is pushed into the room. Stuffed with enormous white dresses, it looks like a cloud on wheels. The dressmaker enters with another rack. She’s an older woman with pink cheeks and white sneakers. She’s no criminal. I run toward the rack and whisper,

 

“Call the police.”

 

She stares into my eyes blankly.

 

“Cops? Law Enforcement? NCIS?”

 

She smiles and says something in Russian as Natasha saunters over.

 

“She says you are a pretty bride.” Natasha laughs as I glare at her. “Most of the household staff only speak Russian. They won’t risk going back to the old country by betraying Andrei Vasilyevich. Not for you.”

 

Returning to my seat, I ask, “Was Andrei born in Russia?”

 

“Nyet. Cedar-Sinai. Second-generation American.” She blows out a column of smoke and watches as more racks of dresses are brought in. “The staff members who do speak English were warned about you. They were told you’re a method actress rehearsing for a role. They have strict orders to ignore your ranting and raving.”

 

I stare at her cool demeanor in utter disbelief. I slump down into my chair as another cloud of fabric drifts by. Natasha spins around like lightning on long legs and tugs a dress off the rack. It’s a column of emerald satin that matches her straightened auburn hair. “This would look good on me, but you have wide hips.”

 

I gaze out a window, and Tim appears in my mind, uninvited. I thought I would be planning my wedding with him. Picking out a white dress at a strip mall or at one of those sales where women rush the doors to get a designer dress for pennies.

 

My milestone will be wasted on a stranger. A sexy, dangerous stranger who can shoot a man dead from a moving car. A man that is holding me captive in his luxurious mansion. I might be treated well, but I definitely want to go home.

 

“Hey, Natasha, did you hear the commotion the other day?” I ask, faking a casual tone. “A woman was screaming. I saw her being pulled away. Probably back into the house and into that sleazy attic room.”

 

Natasha holds a fishtail dress up to her body, admiring the heavy satin while her cigarette dangles from her mouth. The seamstress nervously holds her hand under the inch-long ash.

 

“No,” she replies eventually. “You had a bad dream, Paige Geraldovna. Maybe you scream in your sleep.”

 

“It was lunchtime.” I eye her.

 

“Then you should eat less to not nap during the day,” she replies.

 

Sighing, I ignore the next rack being wheeled in. “Have you been in that room in the attic?”

 

“I don’t leave the first floor,” she answers. “When you marry Andrei Vasilyevich, he will let you redecorate the whole house.”

 

“Don’t gaslight me.”

 

“Gaslight?” she asks. “What is the meaning of that word?”

 

I leap out of my chair, and she watches me out of the corner of her eye, pushing the dress into the seamstress’s hands. Natasha walks behind me, following me to the door.

 

I spin on my heel. “I need the bathroom.”

 

She walks over to another door and opens it. “Don’t take too long, lucky girl.” She grins like a cat hiding a mouse under her paws.

 

I can’t even do this. I can’t pretend and go through the motions. I can’t force myself to look at a fucking wedding dress. Do they not understand? I don’t want to marry Andrei or have seven kids or seduce a lover into poisoning him. I didn’t spend a semester in art school for this! I sit down on the closed toilet lid and hold my head in my hands. These people are insane. Do they not understand they are breaking a law?

 

I snort to myself. “A law? More like a billion laws.”

 

My solitary rant ends when I notice a beam of light on the carpet. There’s a small window near the ceiling. And when I stand on the toilet lid, I can reach it. The handle swings open and I raise the pane. I smile for the first time in days. No, weeks. No, a whole damn year.

 

It’s been shitty for a while. I’m overdue for a break.

 

Gripping the wooden sill, I’m able to hoist myself up and through the small window. Who has wide hips now, bitch? I balance on my waist, hoping Natasha won’t burst in and grab my legs. The ground looks farther down than I hoped. Doubts cause me to teeter, but it’s this or marry Andrei.

 

I launch myself forward, and the wind is knocked out of me as I land hard on my side.

 

I crawl into a standing position and hear voices. Andrei turns the corner with one of his guards. At first, he looks shocked to see me, but I recover first and run toward the tree line. But even with a head start, I know he’ll catch me, and no sooner do I think of it, I go tumbling down onto the lawn with the weight of his body pinning me.

 

He grabs my wrists before I can pound my fists on his chest.

 

“I hate you!” I shriek. “I hate you. Let me go.” A sob rises out of my throat as I turn my face away from Andrei. I won’t look at him.

 

He lies on top of me, my hands going numb. I swallow hard and tears turn into ragged gasps. Finally, I have to look at him to see why he hasn’t moved.

 

“I can’t do this,” I whisper. “I can’t go through with it. You still have time to find someone else. Anyone else. You don’t need me. You don’t want me. You could have anyone.”

 

“You will do this, Paige.” His voice is low and heavy, and I close my eyes against the simmering anger he unleashes. “Because only you can do this for me. I don’t want any other woman. I don’t need any other woman. I have you, and you will do this for me.”

 

“But I don’t … Please let me go. I want to see my family again.”

 

His jaw relaxes and so does his harsh grip. The coldness in his gaze slips, and a glimpse of humanity appears. Did I reach him? Does that cold heart have a little warmth in it? My body relaxes underneath him as I press my hand against his chest as if I’m trying to feel a heartbeat.

 

“Shhh.” He releases one of my wrists and presses his finger against my lips. “You will do as I say, Paige. It’s your only choice. There’s nothing else for you but this.”

 

I refuse to look him in the eye. A chill runs along my skin and seeps all the way down to my bones. Trembling, I curse myself for being fooled. He’s a criminal. And what did he do to that other woman? I look past him to the sky above his head, holding back tears. Not of fear but of rage. I refuse to move. I’ll stay right here and die.

 

Andrei keeps hold of my other wrist and yanks me roughly to my feet. He won’t look at me as he drags me back toward the mansion.

 

A look of reproach tightens Natasha’s mouth as she watches me through the window, being half-dragged and half-carried back into the room through a French door. Her gaze cuts like broken glass, as if my actions were a personal insult. I wonder if Andrei will punish her. And then I wonder why I would even care. These people are criminals.

 

Scowls and silence greet us as I’m tossed back into my chair. The feigned levity from earlier is gone.

 

“You will stay in that chair.” His tone is barely controlled. He turns on them. “She stays there. You bring the dresses to her.”

 

Natasha nods and refuses to speak to me. Her punishment is to be treated like one of the maids. She takes a brisk step toward a rack and waits for me to choose.

 

“I want the most expensive dress.”

 

Natasha rolls her eyes and doesn’t conceal a sneer. It’s what she expects. She waits for the seamstress to hand her a dress with a heavily beaded bodice and a skirt made of yards and yards of pristine tulle. I almost regret what I’m about to do.

 

I stand slowly as the trio silently dares me to run again. That’s not my plan. Not anymore. I grab a pair of scissors off the table and slash at the dress before anyone can stop me. Pearls fall and bounce across the floor as the seamstress shouts in Russian. I slash again, putting a huge hole in the skirt. I yank at the slash until it becomes a gaping hole. My heart pounds in my ears as I turn the dress into a rag.

 

In silence, they watch me mutilate the beautiful dress. The seamstress continues to lament loudly, but nobody lifts a finger.

 

The ruined dress pools around my feet. “I want to see the next most expensive dress.”

 

Andrei frowns at me. “You won’t do that again.”

 

I try to laugh in a reckless way to prove that I can be dangerous too. But I don’t sound dangerous. I sound like an ill-behaved child shrieking. I grab a random dress, and the seamstress yelps as the blades of the scissors shred the silk into pieces. I pull and tug, making the seams snap and echo in the ballroom.

 

Andrei steps forward as if to rescue the dresses. “Leave us,” he orders. His cruel gaze dares me to move.

 

“Leave you alone with her?” Natasha stares at me incredulously. “And the scissors?”

 

“Now,” he says in an even voice that brooks no argument. “All of you.” He stands in front of me. His breath hits me in the face when he speaks. “Not you. You stay.”

 

As they file out, my legs begin to shake, but I hold the rest of my body still.

 

“Your tantrums won’t stop this from happening.” He stares at me in silence longer than what would be normal, and I look away first. “Be a brat, Paige, and you walk down that aisle naked. In fact, don’t choose a dress, and I’ll make you go naked now.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare.” My mouth tightens as I wait for him to do something. I don’t know how I ever found him attractive. If I had known this would happen, I would have left him bleeding on the floor. And if I had done that, I would’ve ended up dead.

 

A loud gasp escapes my lips as Andrei places his hands on my shoulders. He moves quickly, too fast for me to react as his hands slide down my arms and grab the scissors I tried to conceal in my sleeve. He holds them up in front of me before he tosses them away. He acts as if I shouldn’t have tried to save myself.

 

He presses his body hard against mine. I shut my eyes, waiting for the pain to start. What did he do to that woman? Did he rape her? Is she still even alive? I can’t help but cry.

 

“Make it quick, you bastard,” I hiss.

 

His grasp doesn’t loosen but softens ever so slightly as he allows me to cry. Being weak and foolish, I lean my head against his chest. My tears leave wet marks on his pressed cotton shirt.

 

“I only want obedience,” he whispers against my hair. “Whatever happens next is entirely up to you, Paige. Now, tell me. What do you want to happen next?”

 

I slump down into a chair. I’ve betrayed myself, but what else could I have done? I’m not brave enough to willingly be hurt. And my family … I want to live to see them again.

 

“I want to pick a dress,” I say quietly.

 

Andrei steps over the ruined dresses on the floor and pulls one from the rack. “You will change right here. Where I can watch you. And if you even think about ruining this one or running away again …”

 

If this is my punishment for being a brat and destroying two dresses, then perhaps I should be grateful.

 

“Strip,” he commands, but I don’t move. I look over at the large windows and around the vast room. I feel exposed and try to step behind a rack, but he pushes it out of the way.

 

“Now.” Andrei steps toward me quickly, and my fingers grab for the top button on my new jeans. My fingers fumble with the zipper. I tremble as I push the denim off my legs and onto the floor. My long hair covers my face, and gradually, I look to see what he is doing.

 

Andrei’s lips part, and his gaze moves over my bare legs. Slowly, I unbutton my top and his jaw tightens, but he’s not angry. His chest rises and falls when the thin cotton blouse slides off my arms and onto the floor.

 

I watch him watching me. The lust in his eyes is apparent and he doesn’t try to conceal it. Just like he can’t conceal the tightness bulging in his pants.

 

On purpose, I let a bra strap slip as I fumble with the hooks. My gaze catches on his as I bite my bottom lip. Sighing deeply, my bra slides off my arms, exposing my breasts. My nipples are hard despite the room being warm. My pussy swells in my panties, the last stitch of clothing I have on. I shift my weight as I hook my thumbs into the top of my panties. His eyes follow my panties to the floor.

 

Strangely enough, I feel more in control now that I am standing in front of him naked.

 

His look lingers as if he’s caressing me slowly. I tease him and place a hand over my breasts, barely covering them as I push them out more prominently. My other hand moves gradually down my tummy and stops between my legs. A single finger slips against my moist slit and I hold it there, staring at him. He watches my hand pressed against my sex.

 

Slowly and deliberately, I take my hand away from between my legs and let my other hand fall away from my breasts until I’m completely naked in front of him.

 

“Pick a dress.” His voice is rough as his eyes lower again.

 

I turn my back to him and let my fingers glide against the tops of the hangers. I stop on one, holding a simple dress made of organza with a sheer halter top.

 

“That’s a good dress.” His breath is in my ear and he tugs the dress off the rack, handing it to me. His body doesn’t touch mine, but I can feel his heat. I take a step back, and my bare bottom brushes against his hard thigh.

 

“This is a business arrangement.” He clears his throat. “A fake marriage.”

 

I lift the dress up and over my head as his eyes drink in my body. Twisting and turning, I pull it down, lowering my gaze and looking up to meet his in the mirror.

 

His gaze settles on my bare breasts, visible through the sheer fabric before it returns to my eyes.

 

“Will you tie it for me?” I ask sweetly as I lift the hair from my back, letting it spill over the tops of my shoulders.

 

He reaches out and places his hand against my waist. His hand brushes against my breast. I bite my lower lip as his fingers move one by one over my tight nipples, sending pinpricks flying across my alert skin. He catches the string and pulls it gently back, barely knotting the fabric in a bow behind my neck.

 

As if he’s afraid it will be too tight.

 

His breath caresses my neck as his hands move down to my breasts before he spins me around.

 

He’s standing too close, but I will my feet to stay in place where they are. I refuse to back away. His eyes lower to my lips as I close my eyes. I wait, but nothing happens.

 

Andrei is frowning when I open my eyes. “You make a convincing bride, Ms. Reyes.” His deep voice is low. “We will have them fooled.”

 

I want to ask about us. I want to ask what he means by that. He just told me this marriage will be fake. But will we also be fooled?

 

Emotion war inside of me, first anger and now desire. I hate him and now I want him.

 

Something tells me that we’re about to fall headlong into something very real—something that neither of us is ready for.