6. Mila

6

MILA

I n order to be fitted for my dress, I headed home early from the S.T.L. headquarters. It was a bittersweet experience, saying goodbye to those four walls of the shipping office. For the last three years, that place was my purpose. After tomorrow, my role in life would be different. I had yet to learn what I could expect as Andrey's wife, but my guesses didn't fill me with hope.

So long as he doesn't plan to treat me like Lev does Rosamund…

I sighed, banishing the thought as I stood on the dais.

"Can't you" —the seamstress winced— "suck it in?" She tugged at the fabric over my torso.

I knew she meant my stomach, but that wasn't the issue. My hourglass curves were tricky to tailor too, but she wasn't getting away with talking to me like that. "My tits?" I snapped. "Not sure how I can suck them in."

She sneered at me. "Just?—"

"Wouldn't expect you to know." As soon as the catty words left my mouth, I regretted them. Snapping back at people, even a seamstress ordered to do this fitting so quickly, wasn't how I was trained to be. It wasn't my nature to be so bitter and bitchy like this. It wasn't her fault I was stuck in this position. I couldn't take my frustration out on her for what I had to do.

Tipping her chin up, she resumed fitting my dress to me. An hour later, she seemed satisfied with her speedy handiwork. My nerves scaled higher with each minute that passed, and I regretted not eating earlier. I couldn't have, anyway. My father insisted that I fast and try to look slimmer for the memorable day tomorrow. Anxiety swirled in my empty stomach, and I wished I could rub it. It had taken a dozen barked orders not to mar the dress for me to remember that I couldn't give myself any comfort.

My father was asked to enter and check the quality of the dress before I could take it off. His opinion mattered, not mine. It was his image that counted, not mine. I was a pawn, but dammit, I wanted to rip these stupid lacy sleeves off already.

He entered, not smiling or allowing any reaction to show on his face. With impatience and the usual glare of scorn and disapproval, he looked me over. "I suppose it's the best you can do."

"Given the hasty timeline?—"

"Not the rush." My father barely glanced at her, giving me his full annoyance. "The best you can do with her ."

I refused to react. Standing still with my chin held high, I ignored her slight gasp.

"Oh. Well, um…" She was caught in this tense, awkward moment, but I didn't want her pity. Maybe this marriage could be a blessing. I'd get away from his mental abuse, at least.

"Come see me in my office after you hang that up." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the room.

"Sorry," the seamstress said as she helped me out of the gown.

Pity. Just what I didn't want. It would do me no good, anyway. I didn't reply, acting like I hadn't heard her low murmur, and quickly dressed in my office wear again before heading to speak with my father.

Given the last-minute manner that he told me I was getting married, I dreaded to think of what other afterthoughts he'd neglected to tell me.

I closed the door to his office and waited, standing with my hands clasped in front of me. A docile, dutiful daughter. That was the persona I projected, but in my heart, I trembled for more bad news.

"Any thoughts on your marriage?" he asked.

I blinked, not quick enough to mask my surprise. He was asking for my opinion? Did he actually want to know? It was impossible.

"Do you have any thoughts about your marriage?" He wasn't repeating that question with a firmer, more impatient tone to hear me tell him that I didn't want it to happen. That I wished I could marry for love, not duty.

"I'm nervous." All I could do was speak the truth. "But I will see it through if that is what you wish."

He nodded, stroking his beard.

"I believe this marriage will be a mistake."

He huffed, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. "It will not be a mistake. Regardless, you are to do as expected. You will marry the heir to the Valkov Bratva. You will bear him a son."

I swallowed hard, afraid of that . My main concerns were how that consummation would occur. Losing my protected virginity to a rough man like Andrey scared me, but he didn't want to hear about it. I had no one to talk to. No one to seek comfort from. My mother died right after my birth, and no woman in the family had ever stepped in as a maternal figure I could rely upon.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes." In the back of my mind, I screamed for the opposite. I resisted the urge to ask if there was any other way to secure this alliance.

"I can't hear you."

I cleared my throat and raised my voice to more than a whisper. "Yes, sir."

"After the wedding, I expect you to report back to me."

What? I furrowed my brow before I caught myself and resumed a blank expression. "Report to you?"

He nodded, irritated that I'd questioned him.

"Am I a spy or a bride?"

"You are my daughter, my eldest child, and you are mine to order however I see fit. Even if you're married."

I narrowed my eyes at him, unsure what was going on. "That's not true, though. My husband will be the boss of me."

His only reaction was a smirk. If I wasn't mistaken, he'd almost rolled his eyes too.

How can he not agree? I couldn't make sense of this odd conversation. Husbands were to be the bosses of their wives. Their rulers. As soon as Andrey and I vowed to be a couple, he'd own me. He'd control me.

Why would he think he'd be the exception? To still order me around after I left his home?

"Have I made myself clear?"

I nodded but stopped halfway. "Report to you about what?" My suspicions deepened. A firm sense of confusion clouded my mind as I tried to understand. I couldn't see how he planned to override my husband's wishes, but more than that, what information was he seeking to obtain from me?

"You will know," he responded vaguely.

I will? He never confided in me anything, and I felt like I was not only a pawn in a game I didn't know the rules for, but also a sacrifice. Marrying Andrey was already a lousy circumstance to find myself in, but now I couldn't shake the hunch that I was about to be married off to an enemy, not a potential future ally. Were the Valkovs to be trusted? Would I be a player in a twisted, covert mission, sneaking into their family?

I didn't want to marry an enemy or an ally. If I could choose, I'd opt to marry someone out of love, out of fondness. Hell, I'd settle for a pairing based on desire. What I'd heard of Andrey and what I'd seen in pictures didn't suggest lust or love. His reputation as a hard, brutal man preceded him. Even Rosamund felt sorry for my fate.

But I bet she'd think differently if the Valkov men were all like Alek. I tuned out my father's repeated lecture about being obedient, no matter what. He'd told me the same thing over the years, and it was far better to retreat in my mind while I pretended to listen.

He droned on and on, but all I could think about was him. Alek. Still to this minute, as I was being prepared to marry another man, I felt the lingering flicker of attraction he'd ignited in me. How he'd argued with me, daring me to fight back. The way he'd looked me over with that ravenous, deep bronze gaze of his. In the span of seconds, that massive man had overwhelmed my senses and fired my libido like never before.

"Do you understand?" my father barked once more, jarring me from my thoughts about the Valkov who'd challenged me at the S.T.L. office.

I nodded, even though I had no clue what he'd said.

"Go." He flicked his hand at me, and I didn't wait for a more elaborate dismissal.

Since it was the evening before my wedding, I knew he'd excused me to my room. Going anywhere else was out of the question—and it wasn't like I had the freedom to go anywhere as I pleased. Just here at the house or the offices. And tomorrow, Andrey's home.

He was there, striding down the hallway. Almost as though my thoughts had summoned him, he appeared, his lewd gaze on me.

"Come in, come in," my father said behind me, welcoming Pavel and Andrey Valkov into his office.

My father seldom carried business at home, but seeing as Pavel would be my in-law, maybe that changed things.

"In a minute." Andrey continued on, passing my father's office as Pavel entered and closed the door.

I dipped my chin in a hasty nod of acknowledgement, intimidated with the possessive look in his eyes.

You don't own me. Yet.

"Running off?" he taunted, hurrying to chase me down the hall.

I kept my pace even. I'd be damned if I showed him fear, but I wished I'd already reached my room before he'd shown up for their chat.

"You can't." He caught up to me, grabbing my arm and shoving me toward a shadowed turn of the hallway. "Tomorrow, you'll be mine to fuck as I please."

Both my hands were captured in one of his, and with his free hand, he groped at me, ripping my blouse to squeeze my breast hard, then sliding his hand lower to yank up my skirt.

He'd reached me so suddenly, it all flew by as a blur. As he dipped his hand between my legs, ripping my panties, he raked his greedy gaze over me.

It chilled me. His attention felt nothing like the sensual, naughty caress of Alek's eyes on me earlier.

"But there's nothing wrong with sampling your cunt tonight."

"No." I flinched at his words, knowing that he intended to rape me right here in the hall. Hatred swept over my mind, casting a dark and violent energy through me as I fought back the best I could. He was too tall, too strong, and trapped to the wall, I was unable to run.

He unzipped his pants, grunting as he tried to pull his dick out.

"Miss Kastava."

Andrey went still at the sound of one of my father's soldiers. He was a kindly older man, one my mother allegedly helped when he was shot in the house.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked.

Andrey swore, backing up as he tucked himself back into his pants. My skirt fell back down as he retreated, and I caught my breath as I realized I'd been spared.

For now.

"No. No problem," Andrey answered for me as he smiled at the soldier. "Just saying good night to my bride."

Good night, my ass.

I turned, too startled to say thank you to the guard. Running was all I could think about, but I couldn't. That display proved that my future would be as bleak and awful as I'd feared. As I paced in my room, high-strung with all this pent-up energy and adrenaline, I wished again that there were another option. Another bride to offer to them. Another man they could arrange for me.

Like Alek. The hit of desire he'd encouraged in me was so fleeting, so instant, and I wanted another dose of it.

Please, anything to avoid marrying that asshole…

My prayers wouldn't be answered. I knew they wouldn't be. Back and forth, I trekked in my room, but I couldn't relax. I couldn't sleep.

With nowhere else to go, I snuck out to do more work at the S.T.L. offices. I'd never come back here again. Whatever chores and email maintenance I did here wouldn't matter tomorrow on my wedding day. But it was all I had to distract myself, all I could do to try to stop thinking about my fate.

Codes and weird email chains. I sighed as I clicked through the route of sending the information along to the correct spots. None of it made sense. I couldn't decipher any of it, and I hardly cared, anyway.

As the night passed into morning, I kept at it regardless, vainly fantasizing about how I could solve the riddle of my life.

How I could hope for the improbable and figure out how to avoid my wedding.