Chapter 15 Marlena
The Plaza ballroom glittered like something out of a dream.
Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over round tables draped in cream silk. Centerpieces of white roses and gold accents gleamed on every surface. A live orchestra played softly in the corner while servers in crisp uniforms circulated with champagne that probably cost more per bottle than I used to make in a month.
It was perfect.
It was suffocating.
I sat at the head table beside Nikolai, my wedding dress feeling heavier with each passing minute.
My face hurt from smiling. My chest ached from breathing shallowly, trying not to let the panic show.
Mrs. Nikolai Volkov.
The name felt like a brand on my skin.
"Smile," Nikolai murmured beside me, his hand finding mine on the table. To everyone watching, it probably looked affectionate. "You look like you're at a funeral."
"Aren't I?" I whispered back, keeping my smile fixed.
His fingers tightened on mine, as a warning, not comfort.
I pasted on a brighter smile and raised my champagne glass as someone clinked theirs, calling for a toast.
Catherine Kensington stood, elegant in silver silk, her smile warm for the cameras and cold for me.
"To the beautiful bride and groom," she said, her voice carrying across the ballroom. "May your marriage be filled with all the joy and love you both so richly deserve."
Everyone applauded. I wanted to scream. Vivienne stood next.
My stomach dropped.
She looked stunning in a deep emerald dress that hugged every perfect curve. Her blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder. Her smile was pure poison wrapped in sugar.
"I'd like to say a few words," she announced, champagne glass held high. "I've known Nikolai for many years. I watched him build his empire, seen him at his highest and lowest moments."
Her eyes found mine across the ballroom.
"And now I get to watch him embark on marriage." She paused, letting the word hang. "To Marlena, who came into his life so... unexpectedly. So suddenly. Almost like fate, really."
The way she dragged the word ‘fate’ made me sit up straighter.
"So here's to the happy couple." Vivienne's smile sharpened. "May you have everything you deserve."
She drained her glass. The ballroom erupted in applause.
But I heard the real message beneath her words: I know what you are. And you'll get exactly what's coming to you.
Nikolai's hand moved to my thigh under the table, squeezing once, hard enough to bruise.
"Breathe," he commanded quietly.
I was trying. God, I was trying.
More toasts followed. Business partners I didn't know. Society women who'd never spoken to me before today. Everyone had something lovely to say about the fairytale romance.
Every word felt like a lie piling on top of more lies.
Then someone new approached our table.
Damien Cross, looking sharp in a navy suit, his FBI badge notably absent tonight but his cop eyes missing nothing.
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Volkov." He extended his hand to Nikolai first, then to me. "Beautiful ceremony."
"Thank you for coming," Nikolai said smoothly.
"Wouldn't miss it." Damien's eyes lingered on me. "Marlena, you look absolutely radiant. Marriage suits you."
The concern in his voice felt genuine, unlike everyone else's rehearsed pleasantries.
"Thank you," I managed.
"If you'll excuse us," Nikolai stood abruptly, pulling me up with him. "They're calling for our first dance."
He practically dragged me to the dance floor before Damien could say another word.
The orchestra shifted to a slow waltz. Couples cleared space as Nikolai pulled me into his arms.
One hand circled my waist while the other held mine.
"What did Cross say to you at the gala?" Nikolai asked as we began to move.
"Nothing important."
"Don't lie to me, Marlena."
"He gave me his card. Said if I ever needed anything –"
"You threw it away."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," I lied. The card was still tucked in my jewelry box, hidden behind my mother's old locket.
Nikolai pulled me closer, until our bodies were pressed together and his mouth near my ear.
"You're trembling."
"I hate you," I whispered.
"I thought you didn't feel anything for me,”
“Most of the time,”
We danced in silence, moving through the steps like puppets. Every eye in the room was on us. Cameras flashed. People smiled.
They saw a fairytale but I felt chains tightening.
"Why did you kiss me like that?" The question escaped before I could stop it. "At the altar. You didn't have to –"
"Yes, I did." His voice was flat. "Appearances matter. A chaste kiss would have raised questions."
I scoffed, "So it was just for show."
"What else would it be?"
I didn't answer, because for a moment, it hadn't felt like show. It had felt real and that terrified me more than anything else.
The song ended. Applause erupted. Nikolai released me immediately, stepping back like I'd burned him.
"Time for more toasts," he said coldly. "Smile."
I smiled.
Nikolai
I watched from the head table as Marlena navigated the reception with surprising grace.
She laughed at appropriate moments and made small talk with guests who barely disguised their judgment.
She played the role of blushing bride with an Oscar-worthy performance but I could see the cracks.
I saw the way her smile faltered when she thought no one was looking, the tension in her shoulders.
The death grip she had on her champagne glass.
She was breaking, which was good. Broken things were easier to control.
Except – watching her laugh genuinely at something Richard Kensington said, her whole face transforming, I felt something uncomfortable twist in my chest.
She was beautiful when she wasn't guarded and that sharp intelligence showed through instead of fear.
I caught myself staring and forced my attention elsewhere. She was a means to an end. Nothing more.
My eyes scanned the ballroom, taking note of faces, noting connections.
Three of Viktor's known associates were in attendance. They were low-level players, but connected enough to report back. They'd watched the ceremony with too much interest.
They'd photographed Marlena too many times.
The bait was working.
Damien Cross stood near the bar, nursing a whiskey and watching everything with those sharp cop eyes. The FBI investigation was heating up. I'd received subpoenas for financial records just last week.
They were circling and tting closer but they wouldn't find anything. I'd been too careful.
Then my eyes found Marcus.
He was talking to Marlena, standing too close with his hand on her arm. She was laughing at something he'd said, genuinely amused.
Something cold and sharp moved through me.
Marcus was my CFO. My friend, as much as I had friends. I trusted him.
So why did watching him touch my wife make me want to break his fingers?
Wife.
The word still felt foreign.
Marcus caught my gaze and raised his glass in a salute, that easy smile on his face but something about it felt off.
I couldn't pinpoint what it was.
I made a mental note to review his recent activities. Just in case.
A toast was called. Marcus stood, commanding the room with ease.
"I've known Nikolai for eight years," he began, his voice warm and genuine. "Watched him build an empire from nothing. Seen him face impossible odds and come out stronger every time."
He turned to look at me, then at Marlena.
"But I've never seen him happier than he is today. Marlena, you've done something I thought impossible – you've made this man smile."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"So here's to Nikolai and Marlena. May your partnership be as strong as your love. May you always find in each other what the rest of the world cannot provide."
Partnership. Interesting word choice.
The applause was thunderous. Marcus sat, catching my eye with a look I couldn't quite read.
My attention drifted back to Marlena. She was smiling at guests, playing her role, but her eyes looked hollow.
She looked exhausted.
Mine.
Marlena
By midnight, I was barely holding it together.
The reception finally ended. Guests departed in waves of air kisses and congratulations. The photographer took final shots of us cutting the cake, feeding each other like we actually loved each other.
Every moment felt like drowning.
Finally Anton drove us back to the penthouse.
The ride was silent. Nikolai stared out the window, his jaw tight. I focused on breathing.
The elevator ride up felt like ascending to my execution.
When the doors opened, I stopped dead.
The penthouse had been transformed.
Rose petals covered every surface. Candles flickered on tables. Champagne chilled in a silver bucket. Soft music played from hidden speakers.
Romance. Seduction. Everything a wedding night should be.
It made me want to vomit.
"The staff wanted to surprise you," Nikolai said flatly, stepping past me. "I'll have them clean it up –"
"No." My voice came out stronger than I felt. "Leave it."
He turned, surprise flickering in his eyes.
I moved deeper into the penthouse, my wedding dress rustling around me. The roses smelled too sweet. The candlelight cast shadows that felt like ghosts.
My mind went to the terms of the contract.
The marriage will be consummated on the wedding night to ensure legal validity.
I'd known this was coming. I had prepared myself emotionally, built walls around the parts of me that still felt things.
This was just another transaction. Another price to pay.
I could do this.
Nikolai poured two glasses of scotch from the bar, his movements precise. He'd removed his jacket, loosened his tie. In the candlelight, he looked almost human.
Almost.
He handed me a glass. "We need to talk about tonight."
"Do we?" I drained the scotch in one burning gulp. "The contract is very clear about what's required."
His jaw tightened. "Marlena –"
"Let's just get it over with." I set down my glass before he could see how badly my hands were shaking. "You've bought everything else. Might as well complete the transaction."
Something flashed in his eyes. Anger? Hurt? I couldn't tell.
"That's what you think this is?" His voice was dangerously soft. "A transaction?"
"Isn't it?" I met his gaze, forcing steel into my spine. "You made the terms very clear when you blackmailed me into this marriage. Tonight is just another box to check."
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Then explain it to me." My voice rose despite my best efforts. "Tell me what tonight is supposed to be if not just another way you own me."
He stepped closer, and I forced myself not to retreat.
"You think I want this?" His voice was rough now, emotion bleeding through the cracks. "You think I want to –" He stopped, jaw clenching. "You have no fucking idea."
"Then tell me!" I was yelling now, months of fear and rage finally breaking free. "Tell me
what you want, Nikolai, because I'm so tired of trying to figure out what game you're playing!"
We stood there, breathing hard, surrounded by roses and candlelight and lies.
"I want—" He stopped, then started again. "We need to talk about tonight.”