12. Natalya

Chapter 12

Natalya

W aves of white tulle and lace spread out around my hips as I sit in front of a mirror cross-legged on the floor.

I look like I’m lost in the dress. At least the puke stain is gone. I touch my straight blond hair, touch my plain face, and touch the mirror, trying to ground myself. Nothing works. It’s like I’m sinking down into the floor, spiraling faster and faster and faster, and the only thing that slows me down is putting a hand over my stomach.

Over my unborn child.

It’s my wedding day. In two hours, I’m going to walk down a makeshift aisle in one of the oldest Catholic churches in America, and I’m going to pledge my life to a man I barely know.

All while carrying a secret so heavy I’m afraid it might crush me.

There’s a knock at the door. I ignore it, but Lev pokes his head into my room anyway. He frowns at me down on the floor and steps closer, looking supremely uncomfortable as he takes in the state of me.

“Do you, uh, need any help?” he asks.

“Actually, that’d be great. Could you do my hair while I finish my makeup?”

Panic swells in his eyes. “I mean, I don’t, I could maybe—“ I laugh, covering my mouth, and he lets out a long, relieved sigh. “That was almost mean.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him as the laughter dies down and I go back to floating. “What time do I need to be ready?”

“Cars leave in an hour and a half. Is that enough time?”

“Let’s hope so.” I turn back to the mirror and don’t move. I should be doing something, but the thought of lifting my arms right now feels almost too much to bear.

Lev doesn’t leave. He watches me, concern apparently in his eyes, and can I really blame him? I feel totally catatonic, and it’s a small miracle I managed to get this dress on.

“Want me to hunt someone down?” he asks awkwardly. “Maria maybe? Or Irina? I know they’re kind of bitchy?—“

“I’d rather throw myself out a window than deal with them right now.” Which really isn’t me being dramatic. It’s just the honest truth.

“I don’t even blame you.” He crouches down next to me and puts a hand on my arm. “I know this is hard. I’m sorry you’re going through this right now. But I really think that in a while, maybe a few weeks or months or years or something, you’ll be happy again one day. Your husband isn’t such a bad guy.”

I tilt my head and study my brother. “You say that like it means something. Not such a bad guy. Like it’s a point in his favor that he’s probably not going to hit me or something.”

Lev’s expression darkens. “I’d kill him if he did that. You fucking know I would.”

“But you see my point, right? Adriano’s not such a bad guy, but I want to marry someone better than that.”

Alex’s face bursts into my mind. Someone better. Someone good. But then it fades away, because that isn’t happening.

“I know, I’m just trying to say something—“ He stops, looking at a total loss, and I suddenly feel bad for him. Lev’s doing his best just like everyone else and it isn’t his fault that I’m in this situation.

“You really want to do something for me?”

“Seriously, anything, except for your hair.”

“Buy me some time. Let me play piano for ten minutes. It’ll help calm me down, and then I’ll be able to get through today.”

He glances at the hall. “I don’t know. Dad’s got his people all over the place?—“

I grab Lev’s arm, my fingers digging in. “Please.”

He looks back at me, frowning, and slowly nods. “Yeah, alright. Stay here. I’ll clear a path.”

My brother leaves and I’m alone again. I turn back to the mirror and watch myself, wondering if playing really will center me again. I doubt it, but right now I’m desperate and willing to try anything to help me get through this afternoon.

This shouldn’t be happening. I went to Alex thinking he could find a way out for me. I went there thinking he’d want to find a way out. But the second I started pacing around in front of his building, I knew exactly what he was going to say and how stupid I was for even showing up. There was no way he could really help, not without starting an actual war, and nobody in their right mind would ever do that.

Not for me, anyway.

When Lev comes back, he makes a shushing motion and takes me downstairs. There are a couple guards lingering in the hall, and they both nod at him and disperse once I come into view.

“Ten minutes,” he says, tapping his watch. “Then it’s back upstairs and you’re going to finish getting ready. Can you promise?”

“I promise.” I pause before ducking into the living room and give him a tight hug. He seems startled, since we’re not really an affectionate family like that, but he hugs me back. “Ten minutes,” I repeat and hurry in.

The piano feels good at least. I spread my skirt around me and it’s like sitting in a snowstorm. I close my eyes and try to imagine I’m back in my Paris apartment lost in a steady storm of loneliness and depression, and I start to play. The notes come out slow at first as I build up speed, running through the songs I wrote to help describe how I was feeling.

The music helps. I always does. Especially these songs. It’s like no matter how bad things get, if I can express what’s happening inside of me through the music then I can blunt the worst of my pain. I plan and play, shoulders hunched, falling in deep into the music and forgetting about what’s happening outside, about my father and my future husband, about Bianca and the Marino Famiglia, about the wedding and the baby inside of me, and about Alex. I push it all away and I dive into the music.

I lose track of time. I lose track of myself. For a while I’m just a girl playing piano in a tiny little apartment while rain patters on the eaves outside her window. But then the door opens behind me and I shake my head.

“I’m not done,” I say, feeling desperate. Has ten minutes really gone past already?

“Natalya.”

I stop playing. His voice echoes through my head, and maybe I really have finally lost my mind. I turn, expecting Lev.

Alexander’s staring at me.

He’s wearing a tuxedo. It clings to his muscular body like he was born to wear it. The black makes his eyes seem even darker, and his hair is slicked back in a handsome wave.

I’ve never seen him look so good before in my life, and the expression in his eye is pure, hardened determination.

“Go away,” I tell him and turn back to the piano.

I start to play again. Because maybe I can drown him out and he won’t exist anymore.

But Alex walks over and sits on the bench beside me. His thigh presses against mine, and I want to hit him, I want to shove him, I want to scream in his face.

Why would he come here right now? When he knows there’s nothing we can do about this? I’m marrying someone else even though I’m pregnant with his baby, and he made it clear last night that he doesn’t care enough to stop me.

“I can’t do this,” he says quietly.

My playing falters. I don’t look at him. If I do, I’m going to lose myself, and I can’t risk it.

“Good thing you’re not,” I tell him and start up again. “Good thing I’m the one getting married.”

“I can’t let another man raise my child,” he says, his voice rough with emotion and pain.

And it nearly kills me.

Because it’s almost, almost, exactly what I wanted to hear.

But it’s still not quite right.

“You should go away,” I tell him again.

While inwardly wishing he’d say I can’t stand seeing you marry another man .

But maybe that’s too much to expect?

“I should have said this to you last night,” he continues as if he didn’t hear me. “I was overwhelmed and at the time I knew my duty was to stay out of your way. That’s what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it? My pakhan wants you to marry the Italian, and so I should step aside and let it happen.”

“Why doesn’t any care what I want?” I ask, not even upset by the question. Especially since I already know the answer.

“But I couldn’t sleep after you left,” he continues, pushing himself forward. “I was up all night thinking about you and my baby. How could I call myself a man if I let someone else take over my responsibility? How could I live with myself, knowing the truth?”

I miss a note and nearly stop. That’s what he thinks of me and his baby? I’m just another responsibility ?

I keep playing, staring down at my hands.

“What do you want, Alex? It’s too late now. I’m in my wedding dress.”

“You look beautiful,” he whispers and my head whips up. He’s looking at me with pure fire in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have let you leave my apartment last night. I’m sorry, Natalya. But I’m here to make up for it.”

“You’re too late.” I get up off the bench and put space between us. I’m feeling stifled and suffocated and my heart’s racing into my throat. “You’re way too late. I’m supposed to leave in a little over an hour for my wedding.”

He stands and faces me. It’s always incredible how big he is, and right now, he looks even larger. Like he’s twice his normal size, twice as broad and strong. My heart stutters and my jaw tenses.

“I want you to leave with me. We’ll go right now.”

I laugh. It’s so absurd, I can’t even help it. “The place is swarming with guards. I can’t go anywhere even if I wanted.”

“They’re distracted right now. Lev’s got them loading the trucks with party supplies. We go out the back, climb over the wall, and take the alley to the street. My car’s waiting.”

He’s serious. This psychopath is serious. He wants me to run out on my wedding. He wants me to leave my husband at the altar, or close enough.

“You were worried about starting a war last night, and that would’ve been bad enough. You know what’ll happen if we do this, right?”

“I know,” he says, staring at me. His determination is terrifying. “I’ll protect you. I’ll take care of you. In exchange, you’ll swear I’ll always be in my child’s life, no matter what happens between us. You’ll never let another man take what’s mine.”

The baby. Not me.

“How are you going to do that?” I ask quietly, not sure why I’m even playing along.

This is straight up crazy.

“I called in a favor.” He steps closer to me. I can barely breathe. “There’s a priest waiting for us back at my place.”

My eyes go wide, and for a second, I don’t understand what he means. I don’t understand anything as my brain goes haywire.

Then it drops into place.

“You want to get married ?” I blurt it out and hold up my hands like I could stop a charging bull with my palms.

“It’s the only way. The Italians will be angry, but even they respect marriage. Once we explain the situation, they might even understand one day, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make amends. Whatever the cost, I’ll pay it. The alliance will never happen, but if we’re lucky and careful, we can avoid the worst outcome.”

“What about my father? He’ll kill you.”

“Not if I’m your husband and the father of your child, he won’t. Lev won’t let him.”

“Lev will kill you too.”

“He’ll come around.” Alex is talking like this is remotely possible, like it’s even reasonable. As if this isn’t absolutely brainlessly insane and reckless.

“If I go with you, it’ll ruin everything. Valentin Zeitsev will be livid. Dad will be furious. Lev will disown me. And the Italians will try to kill us. You really think you can explain this away? You’re stealing me on my wedding day.”

Alex holds out a hand. “I know what I’m doing. Come with me, Nat.”

I stare at him. I look at his mouth, at his throat, at his outstretched palm.

I remember playing with him when we were younger and wishing he’d touch me, just a little bit, nothing too bad. Just a hand on my leg.

I also remember hating his stinking guts for years.

But this is my chance. I’ll never get another opportunity to escape. If I turn him down, that means accepting my fate, walking down the aisle with Adriano, and becoming his bride.

That means raising my baby as Adriano’s child, even if it looks like Alex.

This is my only shot at escaping a prison sentence.

And the messed up thing?

I’m hesitating for one big reason: it’s because he’s not doing this for me .

If he were here because of what happened in Paris, because we have a spark and he can’t let it go, then I wouldn’t even hesitate. I’d run away with him and leave all this shit behind. Maybe I’d regret it, but at least I was taking a chance on someone that wanted me and not whatever I represent.

But if I weren’t pregnant, Alex would never be doing this.

It’s about the baby, not about me.

“Come on, Natalya,” he says softly. “Take my hand. We don’t have much time.”

I want to do it. I want to control my own destiny for once in my life. I can run away from a second arranged marriage and roll the dice with him, the father of my unborn child.

And the sickest part of all is, I kind of like the idea of being his wife.

Even if I can barely stand him.

It’s just, when I picture myself as a bride, I can’t really see Adriano with me.

But Alex is bright and clear.

“I’ll always be in my child’s life,” he says, his hand wavering between us. “You can have your life back one day, but that baby will always be mine. Do we have a deal?”

This isn’t what I wanted.

But at least he’s giving me a choice.

I reach out and take his hand. I squeeze it hard.

“We have a deal,” I say.

And he sweeps me from the room before I have a chance to change my mind.