Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Maybe not.
I can’t run. I know it’s futile. Semyon’s reach is too far, his control too absolute.
That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
I go to bed, burying my childhood dreams of actual love. Of freedom. Of hope.
I only have a few hours before I have to wake and go to the bakery.
In my dreams, I nearly drown in the little creek by my house. I’m screaming for someone to help me.
No one does.
I wake, gasping for air, to the faint trickle of morning light filtering in through my window.
My head pounds with a headache. My stomach burns with nausea.
I ease myself with the knowledge that my biggest fear—not having a caretaker for Stefan—will be eased with Ophelia’s help.
“I’ll marry him,” I mutter to the empty room. I shake my head and make a vow. “But I’ll have conditions. And he’s going to live to regret agreeing to this.”
Chapter 6
SEMYON
“She won’t wear the dress, Semyon.”
I stand in front of the mirror and straighten my tie. My sister Yana stands in the doorway behind me, her slender frame pushed against one side, her arms crossed. “I tried.” Her tone is sharp, clipped. Not her usual.
I turn to face her. “What the hell is she wearing?”
“A dress,” Yana says coldly, her lips pursed. “Simple. Plain.”
I blow out a breath, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt. “As if I care.” I know my words are dismissive, and I want them to be. What difference does it make what she wears? What matters is the agreement—the structure it cements.
But Yana doesn’t move, doesn’t respond at all. Her silence feels charged and pointed. I catalog her reaction like I do everything and turn to face her.
Why do I care about Anya’s dress?
The only thing she’ll be wearing tonight is my ring.
I look away from Yana when unfamiliar discomfort presses against my chest. Anya—beautiful, headstrong Anya—is going to be my wife and all that entails. She won’t be able to run from me anymore.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, fully facing her. I keep my tone calm, but it’s direct and calculated. If there’s an issue, I’ll address it, fix it, and move on. Like I always do.
Yana’s eyes narrow, and her arms tighten as she lights into me. “My problem, dumbass, is that you’re treating her like she’s one of your stupid fucking chess pieces you can push around your damn chessboard.”
I blink, taken aback. “That’s because she is. Have you been reading those romance books Zoya’s always talking about? Have you forgotten who I am? This marriage is a strategic move, and honestly, I think you, of all people, would understand that. If anything, I’m being kind to her.”
Her jaw tightens. “Do you even hear yourself? She’s not just a move on a board. She’s a human being, Semyon.”
My mind races to dissect her reaction, but the pieces don’t align. Yana doesn’t usually act this way. “I’m ensuring her family’s survival. It isn’t personal.”
“Exactly my point,” Yana says, making a noise of disgust. “Marriage! Not personal? Have you ever considered the fact that maybe it should be?”
What the fuck does she want from me?
I shake my head. “What would you have me do, then?”
Yana stares at me. “You’re serious right now.”
“Deadly.”
“Try to understand her. Try to bring a thread of compassion to the table. Maybe, just maybe, you’re more than Rafail’s cold shadow.” Her voice lowers and softens, along with the gaze she levels at me. “I know you are. You were the first person I told when I knew the truth about myself. You were the one who listened when I was confused and scared. You were the one who helped me bridge the gap with Rafail. I know deep down inside you aren’t as cold as everyone says you are.” She shakes her head. “I know there’s more to you than what everyone thinks. But does she?”
More than… everyone thinks?
I care?
Rafail comes to me next. “What was all that about?”
I make a sound of disgust. “A fun wedding day lecture on compassion and humanity. I told her she was reading too many romance books, and that didn’t go over so well.”
Rafail snorts and gestures. “She’s here. I heard the details about what happened last night. Do you have a plan?”
“For what?”
He reaches out and adjusts my tie, which is strange, considering he never does shit like that, and I wouldn’t have left the room if it wasn’t already perfect.
“For what you’re going to do with her after you marry her.”
I frown at him. “Consummate the marriage, obviously.”
Eventually. I have no interest in an angry fuck.
Or several.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “Do you always have to be so literal?”
I blink at him and shrug. “Yes.”
“Case in point.” We walk down the stairs toward the small gathering of our family dressed in formal attire, ready for the wedding, but Yana’s words ring in my mind… Rafail’s cold shadow.