25. Bronwyn

25

brONWYN

I came awake slowly from lovely, tangled dreams. I was a mermaid, wearing my seashell bra, and I was basking in the sun at the edge of a beach in Texas, my tail in the water and my top half cuddled up to the roguish cowboy outlaw who’d helped me save my father’s ranch. I wasn’t completely sure how I’d ridden horses and worked the ranch with a tail, but it’d made sense in the dream. And it had been so real... I could still feel the warm press of the outlaw’s chest under my cheek and the muscles of his torso under my fingers.

Alarm bells started to ring at the back of my mind. The outlaw felt too real. I reluctantly clawed myself the rest of the way awake?—

Oh shit.

I was lying on my side with my head on Radimir’s bare chest. One arm was hugging his waist, tight as a teddy bear, and one leg was wantonly across him, my knee kissing up against the hard bulge in his jockey shorts. I shut my eyes for a second and cursed. Then I began to extricate myself, inch by tentative inch. I drew my knee back from his cock. I unwound my arm from around his waist. Then I slowly lifted my head. Don’t wake up, don’t wake up, don’t wake up ? —

I started to turn my back to him. But at that moment, he gave a sleepy grunt, threw his arm around me and came with me, rolling over on his side so that he was spooning me from behind. I swallowed. I knew he was still asleep because he was snoring softly, his nose buried in my hair like a big, snuffling bear. But his hand had landed right on my breast and his cock was now snugged between the cheeks of my ass.

And it felt freakin’ fantastic. I could feel my nipple hardening against his palm and the press of his cock reminded my body exactly how good it had felt inside me, that night at the bookstore. I could feel myself getting wet. God, I almost wanted to…

No. I was not going to rub myself off while I was in his arms.

I bit my lip. But I could just slip a hand down, he’d never notice…

No! Definitely not! But my hand started to move?—

Electronic beeping shattered the silence: Radimir’s phone alarm.

A lot happened very quickly.

Radimir came instantly awake, felt my breast under his hand and jerked his hand back. I snatched my hand back from my groin. Both of us sat up in bed, staring at each other.

“I’m sorry—” he started.

“It’s okay!”

“I must have... Chyort! “ I was guessing that was some sort of Russian curse. He ran a hand through his hair, guilt stricken. “I was asleep! ”

“It’s alright.” I knew I should come clean and say I’d grabbed him first, but I wasn’t that brave. “I’ll, um...go jump in the shower.”

The shower in the wet room was fantastic, like standing under a waterfall. As the water beat on my shoulders, I tried to figure out what the hell we were going to do. The three weeks until the wedding were just the beginning: we were going to be trapped together forever. This sleeping-in-the-same-bed-but-no-sex thing couldn’t last, not when we wanted each other this much. But I kept reliving the moment I’d seen him kill Borislav. He really was a monster, and I couldn’t love a man like that. So how does this end?

When I reluctantly dragged myself out of the shower and got dressed, I found him whisking eggs in the kitchen. He gestured to a stool at the kitchen island and I sat, staring as he crushed garlic with the side of a knife. “You can cook?” I asked, amazed.

He didn’t answer, just carried on cooking, chopping herbs and adding them to the mix. But then, his eyes still on the food, he said, “My brothers were young when I brought them to America. I had to feed them on a budget.”

He brought them here? Were his parents already dead, by then? What happened to them? I had so many questions but I was getting big, heavy don’t ask vibes, so I stayed quiet.

He hadn’t put his waistcoat and jacket on, yet. As he cooked the omelets, his white shirt kept pulling tight around the hard globes of his biceps and the slabs of his pecs, and that reminded me of how good that warm muscle had felt when I’d been cuddled up to him…

I tore my eyes away, flushing, and glanced around the apartment. Last night’s storm clouds had disappeared and the sky was a fierce pale blue. The whole penthouse was drenched in sunlight and the view across the city was amazing: I could see most of Chicago.

Radimir slid an omelet onto my plate, and I dug in. It was amazing, light and fluffy and dotted with little pieces of salty goat’s cheese and juicy ham. He’d made coffee, too. “Thank you,” I said, sincerely. “This is...amazing.”

He glanced up from his food and caught my eye, then gave me one of those curt little nods. My chest went tight: he was trying . And God, he looked good, sitting there in his shirt sleeves. But I couldn’t ignore what he was.

Something else I couldn’t ignore: my joints. My hands were stiff, and the pain in my knees had been getting steadily worse over the last week. I could tell I was heading into a major flare-up, which might last a month or two. By the time the wedding came, I wouldn’t be able to walk down the aisle. And even though the whole thing was fake, some stubborn part of me refused to let my illness spoil the big day. Fortunately, there was something I could do, even if it had consequences. I messaged my Rheumatologist and got lucky: she had a cancellation and could see me that afternoon.

Just as we were finishing breakfast, a delivery driver arrived with two packages. They were addressed to Radimir, but he passed them both to me.

I opened the first one, mystified. Inside was a shallow black box and when I opened the top, I was staring at a glossy black rectangle with raised silver letters: B. Hanford. “What is this?” I asked.

“A credit card.”

“I know it’s a credit card. I didn’t sign up for one.”

“It’s on my account. The bills will come to me.” He gestured at the penthouse, himself, everything. “You didn’t choose this. I can at least make sure you’re comfortable.”

I gawped at the card. “What do you think I’m going to spend it on?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “...shoes?”

I showed him my battered sneakers. “You really don’t know me at all, do you? Look, thank you, but...I’ll earn my own money.” I pushed the card across the breakfast bar to him.

He frowned, then sighed and his eyes softened, like I’d impressed him. “Then don’t use it,” he said, pushing the card back to me. “But at least keep it in your purse, in case you change your mind?”

I nodded reluctantly, took the card back and signed it. Then I opened the second package. A beautiful, slender watch, silver with a white leather strap. “Radimir, this is very generous, but I don’t need gifts…”

“It’s not for showing off,” he told me. “It’s for safety.” He grabbed my arm, placed the watch on my wrist and buckled it on. I sat there staring: partly because I was shocked into silence but mostly...the brush of those big fingers against my sensitive skin felt incredible. And there was something about the way he cinched the leather strap tight that was very... possessive.

He pointed to the watch face. “If you’re ever in trouble, turn the bezel a full turn clockwise.”

I blinked. “What happens then?”

“I will come for you.”

My stomach flipped. In trouble. I was a target, now, because I was with him. I looked at the credit card and the watch. My new life. Luxury and danger.

Radimir told me he’d drop me at the bookstore on his way to work, even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t on his way. It was still really early but that was fine: I could get an early start. As we were riding the elevator down, I got a message from Jen. Want to get lunch? Sadie and Luna are in.

And that’s when I realized that Jen and my other friends had no idea I was getting married.

For a moment, I thought about not telling them until it was all done. I could keep a secret for three weeks. But I already felt isolated enough, with Baba in hospital. I was going to have to do this without a family. I couldn’t do it without friends, too. I needed to tell them, even if I had to be economical with the truth. So I typed back Absolutely.

All morning, as I worked in the bookstore, I rehearsed different ways of telling them. But by lunchtime I was no closer to figuring it out. I hung the Closed sign on the door and locked up. I felt guilty closing even for an hour, but it was quiet and I had to close to go to my hospital appointment anyway.

The restaurant was just down the street, a little Italian place we’d been going to for years. It was tucked away in a basement, with tiny tables and low ceilings, but the tagliatelle misto was amazing and it was loud and chaotic enough that my big news wouldn’t draw much attention...I hoped.

The others were already there. Jen was playing a breadstick drum solo on the edge of the table. Luna was almost hidden behind her menu, looking like a baby owl as her big, round glasses peeked over the top. She’s a hospital lab technician and the quietest of us. Sadie, the only one of us in a suit, was hunched forward over the table, trying to hear the phone she had pressed to her ear. She’s an account manager for an advertising firm and her bosses push her harder than can possibly be healthy.

I’ve known all three of them since I was eight. When my parents died and Baba took me in, I had to move schools, right in the middle of elementary school, and the kids weren’t exactly welcoming. But Jen, Luna and Sadie had already formed their own little group of outcasts and invited me in, and we’ve been friends ever since.

I slid into a seat, and we ordered. As soon as the waiter had gone, Jen put down her breadsticks and leaned forward. “What is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve got that look,” said Jen. “Is it the Russian guy again?” She leaned in even more. “Yesterday, you said it was okay. Is it not okay? Do I need to break his kneecaps?”

“Who’s the Russian guy?” Luna wanted to know.

I tried to get a word in but didn’t make it. “Growly suited hottie,” Jen told her. “But he chased her out of the store in tears yesterday.”

“Why was he in tears?” Luna asked.

Jen rolled her eyes. “Not him, her!”

I finally got to speak. “Yes, it’s him and yes it’s okay—” I looked around at them helplessly. Oh God, how do I do this? And then I sighed and just womped my left hand down in the middle of the table.

All three of them froze and stared at the ring. “I’m gonna have to call you back,” Sadie mumbled into her phone, and ended the call.

“What. The. Fuck?” asked Jen, her eyes bugging out. She flagged down a passing waiter. “We need a bottle of Chardonnay and four glasses, stat!”

“His name’s Radimir. I’ve been seeing him for about five weeks.” I conveniently left out the part where in all that time, we’d spent a few hours and two nights together. Oh, and the part about him being a frickin’ Russian mafia boss.

“Five weeks?!” asked Sadie, mouth wide.

“I know it’s sudden—” I began.

“ Sudden? Five months would be sudden,” said Sadie.

“It must have been really...intense,” said Jen slowly. “You must have been seeing each other, like, every night, those five weeks.” She looked at her plate. “You always say you’re too busy at the bookstore to hang out. Why didn’t you just tell me you were seeing someone?”

She looked hurt. They all looked hurt. I looked around at them helplessly. I really had been busy working late at the bookstore. But now I had to pretend I’d been seeing Radimir all those weeks, or they’d get suspicious. “Sorry. I was just worried it might not work out, so I wanted to keep it private.”

The wine arrived and everyone went silent as Jen poured four big glasses. Shit. They all thought I’d been keeping things from them. I knew Jen would take it especially hard: we’ve always told each other everything. But I couldn’t tell them the truth. If they tried to stop the wedding, or went to the police, they’d be in danger. Maybe I should have just disappeared, I thought miserably. Cut off all contact with them.

But I’d underestimated them. “So,” said Jen, rallying. “A whirlwind romance. But it’s probably a long engagement, right?” She gave me a brave smile, determined to be happy for me, and I just melted inside. Even hurt, they were great friends. “What are we talking about, a year?”

I took a big gulp of wine for strength. “Three weeks.”

Jen’s jaw dropped. “You’re pregnant!”

“Should you be drinking?” asked Luna gently.

“I’m not pregnant!” Saying it sent my mind spinning in a whole new direction. Would I have kids with Radimir? I wanted a family, someday. But I couldn’t raise kids in a loveless marriage. And I couldn’t love a man like him...right?

“Then why three weeks?” Sadie asked. “Don’t you think you’re rushing into this?”

I took a deep breath. “I know. I know it seems crazy but…” Crap. I really wasn’t good at lying. I stared at my plate as my mind groped around for an explanation. Then suddenly, it locked onto something. “He makes me feel protected ,” I told them. “Like no one else ever has. He takes me just as I am. When he found out about my disability, he was fine with it.” I thought of how he’d bought the building to save the bookstore. “And he’d move mountains just to make me happy.”

Silence. I tentatively looked up and found all three of them wearing big, goofy grins. “You love him,” said Jen softly.

I nodded. My stomach unexpectedly flipped, even though it was just a lie. I could never love someone like him. I could never even have feelings for him.

Jen looked at Sadie and Luna and all three of them nodded. “Well, okay, then,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion. And she stood and pulled all of us into a hug. “If you love him, that’s all that matters.”

I felt tears prickling my eyes. “Can you all please be bridesmaids?” I croaked. The hug got tighter. They thought I was crying with happiness.

I went straight from lunch to my hospital appointment. My Rheumatologist was running late, so I sat in the waiting room trying and failing to lose myself in a book. I hate hospitals. The disinfectant smell takes me back to all the times I’ve been painfully poked and prodded and that first, scary diagnosis. They’re huge and echoey and I always feel small and alone.

Someone sat down next to me. I kept my eyes on my book.

Then I caught that citrus-and-vanilla scent. My head snapped around and I looked right into Radimir’s frozen-sky eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I squeaked.

He frowned. “My fiancée is at the hospital. Where else would I be? Now: what’s the matter?”

I stared at him. “How did you know I was here?”

“Valentin has been following you.” He nodded across the room, and I saw Valentin step out of the shadows.

“ What?! You had someone follow me?”

“Not someone. It’s Valentin. He’s family. And very good at staying out of sight: you didn’t even notice him, did you?”

I glared at Valentin, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed. “No,” I admitted.

“And yes,” said Radimir. “ I had him follow you. I needed to make sure no harm came to you. Now: what’s the matter with you?”

I stared at him. It was controlling and arrogant and a violation of my privacy...but it was also protective, in a clumsy way. “The arthritis is getting worse,” I told him. “It happens, sometimes: a flare up. When that happens, my Rheumatologist usually changes up my medications and puts me on steroids for a while to damp things down.”

He frowned. “Won’t that damp down your whole immune system, as well?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. If I catch a bug, it’ll be worse. But it’s better than the pain. And flare ups could damage my joints permanently if the inflammation isn’t kept under control.”

His brows lowered and he looked pissed, like he wanted to reach inside me, tear the arthritis out and beat it to death on the tiled floor. “I don’t want you getting ill. But I don’t want you to be in pain, either. There are no other options?”

I shook my head.

Those gorgeous lips pouted, and he nodded. Then he lifted one arm and stretched it out. He did it so hesitantly and awkwardly, I didn’t know what he was doing, at first. Then the arm settled around my shoulders, and he pulled me into his side. And however awkward it was, it worked. The arm felt like a protective barrier, shielding me from the scariness of the hospital. I still felt small but for the first time, I didn’t feel alone.

When my name was called, I hurried in. My Rheumatologist is fantastic, and she agreed that I needed to change my maintenance medications. As I expected, she prescribed a short course of steroids to calm things down while the new medication was kicking in. But she reminded me I’d need to work hard to avoid catching anything because even a mild bug could make me really sick.

When I came out, Radimir was pacing, restless as always. He didn’t see me and I took a moment to just admire him. The elegant lines of his cheekbones. The brutal power of his muscles, even under his suit. He really was gorgeous.

Then I saw a nurse nod towards him and whisper to her friend, and they both blushed and giggled, but went pale when he glanced towards them. A family on their way to visit a sick child, clutching a teddy bear and balloons, saw Radimir and veered off, giving him a wide berth. Two doctors, discussing an x-ray as they walked, broke off to stare at him. “Fuck,” muttered one in fear. “That’s Radimir Aristov.”

My stomach flipped. I’d been seeing these little glimpses of warmth and somehow, between them and the attraction, I’d forgotten what he was. What he was capable of. But everyone else knew, that’s why they were scared of him. Radimir Aristov was a cold-hearted killer.

And in less than three weeks, I’d be his wife...forever.

Radimir drove me back to the bookstore and for the rest of the day I beavered away updating displays and refilling tables. But it felt hopeless because there just weren’t enough customers. If I didn’t figure out some way to get more people through the doors, or cut some costs, or both, I’d be out of business in a couple of months.

I rode the subway to Radimir’s neighborhood. When I got above ground, the air was so cold it hurt my cheeks, and I figured it was going to start snowing again any minute. I started walking fast, arms hugging myself for warmth. But then I passed a hotel with golden light spilling out of an open doorway and a sign: Wedding Expo.

I slowed to a stop. I’d never been to a wedding show. Nathan and I had never gotten as far as planning things. I felt a guilty little surge of excitement, like the one I’d gotten at age six, pretending to be a princess on her way to marry her prince in one of Baba’s old nightgowns.

I knew that my wedding to Radimir was fake. But it couldn’t hurt to take a look...right?

I edged nervously inside, down a hallway...and emerged into a huge, warm ballroom lit with fairy lights.

I looked around, stunned. It was a wedding paradise!

There were caterers offering free canapes. There were entire stalls devoted to stationery and others to tableware. One big area was given over to wedding cars, everything from a vintage Rolls Royce and a 1950s Cadillac to modern limos and supercars. A string quartet was playing in the corner and wedding bands were offering up headphones so you could audition them. There was a guy who’d carve you an ice sculpture of the two of you for your wedding table and a woman with a guitar who’d write you a song about how you met.

Someone offered me a glass of Prosecco and I wandered deeper. There were photographers and videographers. There were wedding dresses—so many wedding dresses! —and bridesmaid’s dresses and groom and usher’s suits and even mini-suits in case you wanted your dog to be the ring bearer. There were at least twenty different wedding cakes to try, and cupcakes and chocolate fountains and travel companies selling honeymoon packages…

At first, I just wandered around, stunned. But then someone gave me a free tote bag and once I had a place to put things, I thought I might as well take a pamphlet for this gorgeous country mansion that was offering itself as a wedding venue. And that kind of broke the seal and suddenly I was trying cake samples and wedding bands and having in-depth conversations about stationery. That wedding fantasy I’d had ever since I was a kid started to come alive as I painted in every detail.

Then the lead guitarist of the band I was talking to asked, “Do you know what you’d like for the first dance? Most people pick the first song they ever danced to, or the song that was playing when they met.”

I’d been buzzing and glowing, somewhere up near the ceiling. It felt like he’d grabbed my ankle and slammed me down to the floor, leaving my stomach behind. We don’t have a song, I screamed at myself. Because it’s just a fake wedding you fucking, fucking idiot. It’s just to get a marriage certificate, it’ll be in a courthouse with Radimir’s brothers there to make sure I don’t escape ? —

“I’m sorry, I made a mistake,” I mumbled to the guitarist, and turned and tried to run out of there. But the aisles were blocked by happy, excited brides and now I could feel the tears prickling at my eyes, my vision swimming with them, and I tried desperately not to blink. As I threaded my way through the crowd, my chest started to tremble and now people could see, and they were all looking at me in sympathy and that made it a thousand times worse?—

As I plunged into the freezing night, a big, heaving sob broke through and I doubled over and just howled, grabbing onto a railing for support. How could I be so utterly, pathetically stupid? How could I forget what this really was? It was snowing again but the cold wasn’t enough to cool my face: my tears burned my eyes and made scorching rivers down my cheeks. I cried for all the years to come, trapped in a loveless marriage to a monster. And I cried because now I’d never have it for real: I’d never know what it was to be loved by someone so much that they want to spend their life with you.

People were looking. I used the cotton tote bag to wipe my eyes and then I marched off through the snow, trying and failing to make my face an impassive mask, like one of the Russian wives.

When I got back to the penthouse, I stuffed the tote bag and all the pamphlets I’d collected into a drawer and slammed it shut.