Chapter 7 - Tia

I can't sit anymore, my entire body feels like it's filled with insects, crawling beneath my skin, eating me alive.

I stand up as fear and panic wash over me for the hundredth time, seemingly getting stronger with each wave.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know how to handle situations like this.

I've never been in danger like this. Not like this.

I thought the debt collectors were terrifying, but Yefim—the way he is talking, his threats, the way he is looking at me.

I don't want to die.

But can I trust him?

"What do you get out of this, Yefim? You aren't just doing this to help me."

There is no way a man like this would make a sacrifice just to help me.

Something else is going on here.

"For me, having a wife with an education, a beautiful woman, giving the impression that I am a family man—it is valuable . It sends the right message. It also adds to my cover." He shrugs, as though this is all obvious.

"Sends the right message to who?" It's not obvious to me. I know nothing about his world.

"My allies, my family, my enemies. The law. It just sends the right message. I don't expect you to understand my world. But I do expect you to understand that you don't actually have a choice in this matter. If you want to live, you have to marry me. I've added the other incentives to help you make the right choice, but the bottom line is, I am the only thing standing between you and death."

His bright, piercing blue eyes are cold as ice and stabbing right into my soul.

His words are suddenly harsh and even more threatening.

He's done talking. He's done explaining, and now I have to choose.

Death.

Or marriage.

I shift from one foot to the other. What the fuck is happening, how did I suddenly get trapped in this horrible situation?

I have survived some crazy things in my life.

I always manage to keep myself safe.

I always manage to get out the other side, somehow stronger than I was before.

This is no different.

I just need to make sure I'm clear when I agree to his offer. Because I have no choice but to agree.

I don't fucking want to die —and I believe him. I believe him when he says I will.

The world slips from beneath my feet as I see the smirk on his face. But somehow it doesn't seem nasty, it looks like he's…happy. Pleased with himself.

I shake my head.

Thinking.

Thinking.

Thinking.

If he's happy, then he's being truthful about the fact that this arrangement benefits him.

So it can benefit us both.

I mean, to be able to earn enough to clear my debts—that would be a dream come true. To free myself from that stress. It's been eating me alive, breaking me down even more in the last week. I can't carry on like that.

I need this offer more than he knows.

"Tia, you don't have a choice. Marry me or die."

Marry him or die.

My heart slams wildly in my chest.

I will marry him.

I sigh, closing my eyes for a second to shut out the intensity of his stare.

It's distracting me, making me think about kissing him, and I need my thoughts to be clear right now.

I take a long, deep, slow breath.

When I open my eyes, I feel more confident.

"I will marry you." His brows shoot up, his lips curve into a gorgeous smile. "Under one condition, Yefim."

He tilts his head to the side, amusement playing across his face as he waits to hear what my condition is.

"Go ahead," he encourages me.

"I will marry you, and we can both benefit from it. But as soon as you have earned enough of a reputation as a ‘good family man' and I have paid off my debts, we will end the marriage. When I'm safe, and my debts are cleared, we both walk away from the marriage without argument."

He runs his tongue over his teeth, sucking in his cheeks, processing my condition. It seems fair. He's not marrying me for love. He's getting something out of this, as am I, but once we have those things, there's no reason to prolong the awkward situation of being bound to someone your heart isn't set on.

"So you are planning our divorce before we've even exchanged our vows?" he chuckles with amusement.

"Yes," I say seriously. I'm not joking. I'm not playing. If I agree to this, I want to know that I have a safe escape afterwards.

"Alright. I accept your condition." He nods.

His body is so close to mine that the heat from his skin is seeping into me.

His eyes are distracting me again.

Fuck.

He's so gorgeous.

Am I really going to marry this man?

This criminal mafia boss.

What am I getting myself into?

He holds his hand out and I stare at it in confusion for a moment.

"The correct thing to do after coming to an agreement is to shake on it," he laughs deeply.

Oh.

I slip my hand into his, and as his massive hand wraps around mine, I feel small and weak. We shake and nod, sealing our arrangement.

I am going to marry him.

His sleeves are rolled up over his forearms, and the muscles and tendons ripple across his skin as he shakes my hand. My eyes trail up his arm, across his broad shoulders, up his thick corded neck, his square jaw, the shadow of dark stubble, his sharp blue eyes.

He leans closer to me, still holding my hand, pulling me against him.

I lift my face towards his because, despite everything that has happened today, I still can't stop thinking about that kiss we shared.

It's been haunting me; in between the stress and chaos and worry, his lips have been haunting me.

His mouth is inches from mine. I can feel the heat of his breath. The man I am going to marry.

My heart slams against my ribs.

His lips brush across mine, and I take in a sharp breath—

The door opens loudly, and I quickly step away from him in fright. But he grabs me around my waist and pulls me against his side, turning to face whoever is coming into his office so late at night.

"Yefim, what the fuck is going on?" Oleg, his brother, snarls in anger.

"Oleg, this is my fiancée, Tia. I don't believe the two of you have properly met?"

"Your what ?" his brother stammers, and I stare wide-eyed in shock between the two of them.

Yefim's confidence is astounding.

"My fiancée," he says again, running his hand over my side in a loving gesture.

I don't know what to say.

I'm literally speechless.

It looks like Oleg is as well.

***

Yefim doesn't waste any time arranging the wedding.

He also fronts a large sum of money to cover my next two months of debt payments so that I can stop working the other jobs and focus on my studies and my internship at Dubrov Enterprises. He says image is important and his fiancée won't be seen working herself to the bone.

I don't like the idea of taking his money, but I also know he's right. I am working myself to death, and soon I will be able to cover the repayments myself.

It's a relief to have the debt collectors step back for the moment, satisfied with the payments they have received.

I can breathe.

I can catch up with myself and process all the crazy stuff that is happening in my life.

Yefim is also insisting I pack up my apartment and move in with him right after the wedding. I do not want to give up my apartment, but I promised him a good reputation, and that means playing the full role of being his wife. I have to live with him.

Luckily, I don't have a lot of possessions. Mostly my clothing and a few items from my childhood that I like to pretend are sentimental even though most of my childhood was a horrible and traumatic experience.

My mother coming home drunk, passing out with a cigarette in her fingers, almost burning down the house on more than one occasion. Bringing strange men home, forcing me to lock my bedroom door to hide from them when they came to talk to me, terrifying me with some of the things they said.

Maybe I should burn all of it. All of my childhood memories.

Maybe, with this massive change that is happening in my life, I should move on from the past and start looking forward to the future. One where I really am debt free, working a good job, earning enough money to take care of myself…

I sigh and toss the pink teddy bear I was holding into the trash can.

Yes.

It's time to become Yefim's wife, just for now, for all the world to see—until I get what I want.

***

The day of our wedding comes too soon, and my anxiety is through the roof the entire morning.

He asked me who I wanted to invite, and I said no one. I don't want to advertise this crazy choice. Besides, who do I have in my life who I really want to share this with? I don't want to lie to the people I love and pretend I'm happy with the arrangement.

I stand at the massive church doors, looking down at the gorgeous bunch of blue and pink flowers in my hands. I want to cry. But I can't. I can't let the fear get the better of me.

This is just a temporary, scary thing—and it's going to set me free.

The music starts playing from inside the church and the doorman pushes the doors wide open. I stare down the long aisle towards where I can see Yefim standing, waiting for me.

The smile on his face when he sees me seems so genuine.

It pulls at my heart and makes me wish I knew what real love felt like.

I take a deep breath and step into the church, a nervous smile on my face that people will easily mistake for happiness.

I walk with my eyes focused ahead of me, on Yefim, because even though I know his smile isn't genuine either, it helps me pretend that everything is going to be ok.

I'll get through this.

Like I get through everything.