I didn’t get to go out to a boutique like most brides. He had some fashion intern bring in a few dresses for me to try on. They were all incredibly conservative and hideous. He told me they were traditional, and what everyone would expect the wife of apakhanto wear. By then, I knew when to pick my battles. This wasn’t a fight that needed to be had.
Unfortunately, his restrictive diet hadn’t had the effect he’d hoped. Starving me for weeks didn’t matter when they brought sample-sized dresses for me to try. His frown grew deeper and deeper with each dress that the intern had to close with a clip at the back. The intern kept saying that was totally normal, but Mikhail wasn’t happy about it at all.
Once the fitting was mercifully over, Mikhail cleared the room. He was silent for a long time, which only allowed for my anxiety to bloom even more. What could I have possibly done differently? Finally, he got into my space and slapped me so hard across the face, it knocked me over. I clutched at my stinging cheek as he towered over me, glaring.
“You’re so fucking weak-willed,” he spit. “You can’t even stand your ground.”
“Then why are you marrying me?” I’d challenged him in a fit of courage.
That earned me a swift kick to the ribs.
He wanted to break me. That was always his goal, but I was stronger than he ever gave me credit for. He should have just let me go then, told my father that the match wasn’t a good fit, andthe marriage wouldn’t continue. He was too prideful for that. So I knew that I only had one option. I had to run.
“Everything okay?” Viktor asks, bringing me back to the present.
I look at him in surprise, realizing I have my fork midair. I quickly set it down and shift uncomfortably in my chair.
“I’m fine,” I lie, though I know it’s no good.
Viktor has an annoying way of seeing through my lies.
“I’m going to go read,” I say, grabbing my half-eaten plate of eggs and scraping what’s left into the trash. I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
He says nothing as I go, and I hope he doesn’t notice the way my hands are shaking. Knowing him, he probably does. He notices everything. It’s his most annoying quality, and there are many.
I go into the living room, grab a book, and plop down into an oversized chair. This has become my favorite room in the house. I hate having a favorite room. I hate that I’ve allowed myself to become comfortable in my prison. A false sense of security has fallen over both of us, and I’ve actually allowed myself to believe that there’s any safety here.
Unconsciously, my hand moves to my flat stomach. This poor child is going to be born into a world where violence is the only language. Going back to Mikhail pregnant isn’t remotely an option. The child will obviously not be his, and he would gravely punish me for it. I’d be lucky if he allowed the child to live.
The alternative is telling Viktor the truth about the pregnancy. That’s not much of an option, either. He’s already crazy possessive. Adding a child to the mix will only increase his insanity, which is not something I’d like to experience.
As if conjured by the thought, Viktor appears in the doorway, watching me cautiously.
“Okay if I join you?” he asks.
He usually doesn’t ask, so this is a nice change. Maybe it should put me more on my guard, but it actually endears him a little more to me. I blame the pregnancy hormones. Damn this baby with half his DNA. How could I not feel a small bit of affection toward him? I push it as far down as it will go and roll my eyes at him.
“It’s your house,” I say without any real bite.
“It’s yours too,” he says quietly. “For now, at least.”
I feel his words wash over me, and I know that I should hate him for giving me this false hope. For now. For now, I’m away from the monster who won’t be satisfied until I’ve completely conformed to his will. For now, I’m in a beautiful house with a lot of space. Even though it’s not my home, and even though Mikhail is still a looming threat, it is safe.
“What’s Sergei going to say when he calls?” I ask him, wanting the cold splash of truth to remind me exactly how precarious this position is.
“I’m not a psychic, Anya,” he replies.
“You know what I mean,” I say seriously. “What’s going on out there? How much longer do we reasonably have until Mikhail finds us?”
“You really don’t need to concern yourself with the details,” he answers. “The situation is well in hand. Everything is going to be okay.”
I slam my book shut and glare at him. “Viktor,” I say coldly. “We’re both dead when Mikhail finds this place, so I need you to take this a little more fucking seriously.”
“We’ll be long gone before that ever happens.” He smiles reassuringly.
I realize that he truly thinks he has the ability to outsmart and outlast Mikhail. That’s the most dangerous part of this all.
13