Chapter 32: Natalia

I remember the days not so long ago when I would wish the minutes and hours away and pray I wouldn’t see Mikhail.

I would spend my days with Snow, walking the grounds of his home to pass the time and gather my thoughts.

I was a mess every time I saw him. Now I’m a mess not for seeing him.

Over two weeks have passed now since we last saw each other.

We’re supposed to be getting married in a few days.

I know he’s been at the house, though, and this isn’t a case where he’s been away. Aleksander has been given me Mikhail’s orders. At other times, I’ve felt eyes watching me.

His eyes.

But every time I turn and look for him, he’s not there. He’s nowhere.

I know I’m not seeing him because we went too far over the line, and it disappeared.

That’s why.

If I have any sense, I’ll retreat, too, and protect my heart. What the hell do I expect from a man like Mikhail Dmitriyev?

Love?

Do I truly expect love when everything is so wild and reckless when we’re together? We’ve never actually sat down and had a conversation that didn’t end with him doing something sexual to me.

The only time might have been my first day here when he told me I was as evil as Raul.

We have nothing in common, and he’s supposed to be my enemy.

He’s just been the sensible person out of the two of us and severed the link before it could grow any stronger.

I’m pretty sure I won’t see him until our wedding day.

That sounds so weird.

We’re getting married, and we’ll have a loveless marriage.

I’m a fake, and he’s my captor.

We exist on lies and secrets.

A mockery to any vow we’ll be taking when we say, ‘I do.’

If I survive, this is what life will be like because we aren’t supposed to be.

This sham is an arranged marriage for business purposes, and I forgot that somewhere along the way. As I lay beneath him repeatedly, I forgot who he was supposed to be to me.

There was never a question of love in the mix. And since I’m not who he thinks I am and I was never supposed to be here, things are working out exactly how they’re supposed to.

At least I know he’s not going to sell me or give me to Ivan. And the only good thing to come of this time apart is seeing more of José.

He’s been working here at the house, but because Sebastian is here, too, José and I hardly have the chance to speak like we did that day over a week ago.

I still take comfort in seeing him. It’s something, and if he’s around, I know I’m safe and there’s hope in some form.

I just wish there weren’t this hole in my heart or this empty feeling in my soul when I think of Mikhail.

This coming weekend will mark one month since he’s been in my life. One month of chaos with this constant push and pull of my heart.

When I asked José more about what was going on, he said things were still the same and Mikhail just wanted more security here. Of course, that just made me curious about what else was going on to make Mikhail want additional security. I didn’t push, however, because I knew José would have told me if there was anything more to tell.

I’ve spent the day outside with Snow. The weather is getting better as it transitions to spring. It hasn’t snowed all week, and there’s a hint of warmth in the air. When you spend as much time outside as I do, you notice things like that.

When it gets dark, I head back to the house to put Snow in her room.

There I see José waiting for me.

“Just checking on you,” he says with a little smile. He crouches down to pat the dog on her head for a moment before he stands. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” I lie. “As okay as I can be.”

“I’m sorry I have no news for you.”

He says the same thing each time.

“That’s okay. At least I’m safe.”

He reaches out to pat my head the way he used to when I was little.

“When we’re free, I’ll get you an ice cream. The biggest one we can buy,” he promises, and I can’t help but chuckle. It’s been so long since I smiled it feels foreign to me.

“Ice cream, José?”

When I was little and life was normal, my parents would meet up with José nearly every weekend. We’d go to the beach, and he’d get the biggest ice cream cone for me. It was he who took that picture I have of my parents and me on the beach. That time, he came with us to see my grandmother. Those are some great memories.

“Never too old, my little chica. You will always be my little girl, and I am your second father. So, I can promise you ice cream when I get you out of this mess. That’s the first thing we’ll buy when we get our first taste of freedom. I’m sure your Papito will forgive me for giving his little girl sweet things.”

“Yes, I’m sure he will, and you can buy me anything you want. Let me take care of you, too.”

He taps my head again. “No. I promised your father I would always take care of you. That’s my job. Nothing is required of you. Only to live. You hear me?”

I nod, but I promise myself if we do get out of here, I will look after him, too.

“We just have to take each day as it comes,” he adds.

Talk of leaving has me thinking about Mikhail again, and my curiosity stirs.

“Where’s Mikhail, José? I haven’t seen him at all. I just want to know where he is, or if he said anything to you about when I might see him again.”

He looks me over without saying anything, and I think he can sense that my questions run deeper than mere curiosity.

“You have feelings for him,” he states, worry now clouding his eyes.

“It’s not that.” I run a hand over my head and try to smile past my embarrassment at being caught out.

“You can’t fool an old fool, Natalia. I can see it. You can’t give your heart to a man like that, little one. You will get hurt. I assure you, you’ll get hurt. Don’t do it. This is a means to an end and not the path any of the people who loved you would have chosen for you. Please don’t make the mistake of falling for a man who can’t give you what you need.”

He touches my cheek, and I nod, agreeing with him.

I agree. I just can’t get my heart to listen to me.

I’m still trying to get my heart to listen on Saturday as the limousine pulls up at the church.

Sophia is sitting next to me. She is my only company, and apart from José the only person who will be here for me.

She seems excited but I’m so nervous I feel like I might throw up.

I’m on autopilot as I walk in through the back entrance of the church, where I’m supposed to go in for the bridal march.

We’ve arrived just in time for the nuptials.

“You look beautiful, dear.” She fusses over me, straightening a wisp of my hair and removing an invisible piece of lint on my veil.

“Thanks.”

“Are you ready?”

I’m not sure what to say. I’m not ready. The only thing I could be ready for is running through the door we came in and jumping into the first vehicle that will get me out of here.

I don’t want to go through the doors in front of me. Those doors will lead to my groom.

I don’t want to see him and face the rejection on his face.

I don’t want to have these strong feelings for him I never asked for, only to feel like I’m nothing but a business deal.

I don’t want to feel that thing inside me luring me to love him because that will push me to accept the lie I always was to him.

So, no, I’m not ready.

But saying no was never an option.

“Yes,” I tell her, and she smiles.

“Then God speed.” She opens the door, and I take a peek inside at the people waiting for me.

This part should be simple.

I have no father to walk me down the aisle and no one here for me.

Our vows are simple, too. Two paragraphs of a handful of words.

As I look inside the church and see his guests, nothing about this feels simple.

The pews to the left hold the cartel heads and some of their families. The pews to the right are filled with Mikhail’s guests. The Bratva.

When the organist starts playing the traditional wedding march song, I move and look straight ahead, neither to the left nor the right, and I walk.

When I get to the middle of the church, I look at my groom, and he watches me, too.

His father is standing next to him, and he is next to the priest.

Our eyes lock and I want to look away, but I can’t.

I feel his brother’s eyes on me as I walk by, but I don’t look in his direction. I just note his existence from my periphery.

Who I’m focused on is the man ahead of me who stole me away and stole my heart, too. A man I know I mustn’t love.

I’m still so confused, because I think I do.

If I didn’t fall for him, I don’t think I would feel like this, and my heart wouldn’t yearn for him.

That last time we were together, I gave him everything. Everything I said I wouldn’t give. He never had to take it. I all but handed it to him on a platter so he could have it. Have me.

So, the only person to blame here is me.

When I reach him, my legs shake and my hands tremble so much the lilies in the bouquet shudder.

In the bright sunlight, those honey-colored eyes greet me, taking me in. When he looks at me in that way, it’s hard to forget the way we were when we were last together.

Mikhail’s eyes bore into me as I study his handsome face.

Is he thinking of that last time, too?

If he is, does he feel anything, or nothing?

Maybe what I thought I got from him is all in my head.

The priest is talking, but I don’t hear. Mikhail breaks eye contact with me and looks at him, so I assume it must be time to start the ceremony.

I met Father Gabriel once in the last week when he came by the house to go over the vows with me. He’s a tall man with lily-white hair and dark green eyes. He looks at both of us fondly with a smile. When we first met, I got the impression he was accustomed to Mikhail.

I have the same impression now.

“You may now say your vows,” Father Gabriel says.

Mikhail turns to me and fixes his gaze to mine. I wonder how he’ll speak his vows without meaning them.

“I, Mikhail Yevgeny Dmitriyev, take you, Adriana Maria Alvarez, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

Adriana Maria Alvarez.

A wave of nausea hits me at the mention of her name, and the stab of jealousy. Even in death, on my wedding day, she still mocks me. She still takes from me. I am the joke because I’m not real. This man I shouldn’t have feelings for isn’t speaking his vows to me. He’s vowing to her. She is who he wants. Not Natalia Lily de Leon.

I glance at José, who I glimpsed to our far left. I’m not sure if he can see the sadness in my eyes from all the way over here, but he nods, and I return my focus to Mikhail.

It’s my turn to say my vows. and he’s looking at me with expectancy.

“I, Adriana Maria Alvarez, take you, Mikhail Yevgeny Dmitriyev, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” I say the words and feel numb.

We look at Father Gabriel again. It’s time to marry us. Time to seal the bond.

He addresses Mikhail first. “Mikhail Yevgeny Dmitriyev, do you take Adriana Maria Alvarez for your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do,” Mikhail replies.

Father Gabriel then turns to me and asks me the same question.

“I do,” I reply.

“What God joins together, let no one pull asunder,” Father Gabriel declares. I zone out from there, getting lost in my thoughts.

He blesses our marriage, and when we exchange rings, I can’t take my eyes off Mikhail’s.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Father Gabriel declares proudly, and I realize we did it. I did it. I got married.

Weeks ago, I was destined for an auction block to be sold as a sex slave. Now I’m the wife of Mikhail Dmitriyev.

“You may now kiss the bride,” Father Gabriel adds.

Mikhail leans forward and kisses me, but not even close to the kisses we’ve shared.

This kiss is empty and hollow, just like this feeling in my soul.

It feels as wrong as we do.

Aleksander approaches us, and I don’t know why, but I find myself staring at Mikhail’s father, Sergei, as if my mind somehow thinks he can fix this.

At least he doesn’t look at me in that coldhearted manner his son is. His son I just married.

“Aleksander, please take my wife home. I have business to attend to,” Mikhail says, and I cut my gaze back to his.

He’s not even coming home with me?

Of course not. The business is the cartel. The men sitting on the entire side of my right reminds me of that and what I am.

Whatever we had is over. It’s clear it’s done and there’s no trace of it left in either of us.

It’s over, and we just said ‘I do.’

“Mrs. Dmitriyev,” Aleksander calls me by my new name. “Come with me.”

I don’t embarrass myself any further by saying anything.

I just do as I’m told, look away, and follow Aleksander’s lead when he ushers me away.

I manage to hold it together but find myself looking over my shoulder before we leave. I’m looking back at Mikhail, but he’s not watching me. His eyes are on his brother, who is staring at me like the predator who just set his sight on his prey.

There is no mistake in the interest I detect in Ivan’s eyes, nor the fury in my husband’s stony gaze. It means trouble.

More trouble than I’m already in.