Chapter 14 Marlena
The wedding dress felt like a cage. It was a stunning dress but I hated every inch of it.
I stood in the bridal suite at St. Patrick's Cathedral, staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror while a team of people fluttered around me like anxious birds.
“You look absolutely breathtaking,” Colette said as she adjusted my veil for the hundredth time.
But when I looked at the mirror, I looked like a stranger.
The girl staring back at me in the mirror had perfect make up, perfect hair swept up in an elegant chignon, perfect diamond earrings that Nikolai had sent over this morning with no note.
She looked like a bride but I felt like I was standing in my own funeral.
"Five minutes, Miss Rousseau," someone called from the doorway.
Mrs. Volkov, I corrected silently. In five minutes, I'd be Mrs. Volkov.
My stomach churned, threatening to reject the nothing I'd managed to eat this morning.
My phone buzzed on the vanity. It was a video call from Luka.
My hands shook as I answered and turned away from the fussing team.
Luka’s face filled the screen and my breath caught. He looked better.
The hollows under his eyes had filled out slightly. His skin had color instead of that awful grey pallor. He was sitting up in bed without looking like it cost him everything.
The Swiss treatment was working.
"Mar!" His smile was the brightest thing I'd seen in weeks. "Oh my God, you look beautiful!”
I forced a smile at the compliment while guilt ate me up.
“Hey,” I managed to say, “You look really good too,”
“I feel good,” He said, “The doctors said the treatments are working better than expected,” He leaned closer to the camera, his eyes shining. "They're saying I might actually beat this thing, Mar.”
My throat closed up, “That's…that's amazing, Luka,”
"It's because of you." His voice cracked.
"Everything you've done, everything you've sacrificed – I'm going to be okay because of you."
I wanted to tell him the truth: that I'd sold myself to a man who saw me as bait, I was marrying someone who'd blackmailed me, and every smile was a lie and every touch felt like chains tightening.
Instead, I said, "I'm just glad you're getting better."
"I wish I could be there." He looked genuinely sad. "But the doctors won't let me travel yet. I'm so sorry.”
“Don't apologise. You just focus on getting better,” I blinked back tears, hoping that the camera did not catch them, “That’s all I need,”
"Nikolai better treat you right, or I'll –" He tried for threatening but ended up coughing.
"He treats me fine," I lied. "He's... he's good to me."
"He better be. You deserve to be happy, Mar. After everything –" His voice broke. "You deserve someone who loves you as much as you love them."
The words drove like knives into my chest.
"I'll visit soon," I promised, desperate to end this before I broke completely. "Once things settle down.”
“I'll hold you to that,” He said, smiling, “I love you, sis,”
“I love you too,”
The call ended and I sat there staring at the blank screen while my heart shattered into smaller and smaller pieces.
He looked happy and healthy and so full of hope and I was the reason.
All this pretence and captivity was worth it if it meant that Luka loved.
Wasn't it?
"Miss Rousseau?" Colette touched my shoulder gently. "It's time."
I stood on numb legs, letting them adjust my dress one final time, fix my veil and hand me the bouquet of white roses that smelled like death.
The corridor outside the bridal suite was endless. I could hear the organ playing and the murmur of five hundred guests which were waiting to watch me marry the man I barely knew.
A man who'd bought me like property.
The cathedral door loomed ahead. I had no father to walk me down the aisle, no mother to hold my hand and look at me with love filled eyes.
I had no one who knew the truth about what this truly was.
The music swelled. "Pachelbel's Canon in D." A classic wedding march.
Now, it sounded like a death toll.
The doors opened and five hundred faces turned toward me.
Camera flashes exploded like lightning and at the end of that impossibly long aisle, standing at the altar in a black tuxedo that fit him like it was painted on, was Nikolai.
He looked devastating.
Dark hair perfectly styled. Sharp jawline. Those grey eyes that could freeze or burn depending on his mood.
He looked like every woman's fantasy and he was my nightmare.
I forced my feet to move.
As I walked down the aisle, my heart hammered so hard, I thought everyone could hear it.
Halfway down, my eyes met his.
His eyes held no warmth or coldness. Just that blank, perfect mask he wore so well.
Looking at him felt like drowning. By the time I reached the altar, the bouquet was shaking in my hands. Nikolai extended his hand to mine and I took it because I had no choice.
The officiant began speaking. Words about love and commitment and holy matrimony that felt like mockery.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."
My vision blurred at the edges and the cathedral spun slightly.
Breathe, Marlena, just breathe.
"Marriage is a sacred bond, not to be entered into lightly..."
Nikolai's thumb moved across my knuckles. Once. Twice.
Was that supposed to be comforting? It only felt like ownership.
"Do you, Nikolai Aleksandr Volkov, take this woman..."
His voice was steady, clear, perfect. "I do."
Two words that sealed my fate.
"And do you, Marlena Isabel Rousseau, take this man..."
The words stuck in my throat. Everyone was waiting, staring.
Nikolai's hand tightened on mine. It was a warning.
"I do."
"The rings?"
Someone handed them over.
Nikolai slid mine on with ease, his eyes never leaving my face.
Then it was my turn. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the ring. Nikolai caught it, his fingers wrapping around mine, guiding the band onto his finger.
"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The officiant smiled. "You may kiss the bride."
This was supposed to be chaste – quick press of lips for the cameras.
That's what we'd discussed but Nikolai's hand cupped the back of my neck, pulling me closer than necessary.
His other hand found my waist, gripping me possessively.
"Play along," he murmured against my lips, too quiet for anyone else to hear.
Then he kissed me and it was anything but gentle.
His mouth claimed mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.
I gasped against his lips, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss until everything else disappeared.
The cathedral. The guests. The cameras.
All of it faded until there was only this: his mouth on mine, his hands holding me like he'd never let go, the way my traitorous body melted into him despite everything.
When he finally pulled back, I couldn't breathe.
My lips were swollen. My heart raced. My whole body trembled.
Nikolai's eyes had gone dark. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear.
"Mine now," he whispered.