Or maybe they haven’t been hired at all.
Maybe they’re here because someone, somewhere made a deal with the devil and now it’s payback time.
Maybe she’s as trapped as I am.
“Please, ma’am,” Alice continues. “If you struggle, it will be harder for all of us. The Bratva are dangerous men. If you stop fighting them and just accept your fate, things will go easier for you. For everyone.”
Her tone sobers me and I find myself nodding, despite myself.
I don’t want to accept anything. It’s not in me to just accept being dealt a bad hand. I will always be searching for a way out, a means to escape.
But I know I have to be smart about it.
It may take time—but when it finally happens, I’ll need it to work.
“You can call me Esme,” I tell her softly.
She gives me a smile and leads me to the elaborate dressing table that’s been set against one of the stone walls.
Alice and two other women get to work on my makeup. I just sit there and let them do what they want.
Looks like you’re a doll after all, Esme. Nothing but a pretty little doll for men to dress up and move around as they please.
I swallow the tears bubbling up inside me and focus on Alice. She has a beautiful face, classical features, and sad, narrow eyes. She’s probably in her fifties, but she’s aged naturally and that makes her look younger.
When the other girls move to the other side of the room to do God knows what, I turn to Alice.
“What do you know about the Bratva?” I ask.
“Nothing good,” she murmurs. “They’re hardened men, ruthless and calculating. Trust me, it’s better to submit than to fight. There is no such thing as mercy where the Bratva are concerned.”
She doesn’t tell me how she knows all this. I don’t ask. Something tells me I won’t like the answer anyway.
25
Esme
An hour later, Alice stands up and looks at me with satisfaction.
“There,” she says. “You’re perfect.”
I turn back to the mirror, really looking at myself this time.
Alice has done an amazing job. She’s kept my makeup natural, matching my skin tone perfectly. She’s highlighted my eyes with bronze and charcoal eye shadow, and teased out my eyelashes so that they look much longer than usual. My lips are nude with only a slight hint of pink and my cheeks glow with just the faintest touch of rouge.
Thin braids frame my face and sweep into a delicate knot at the back of my head. The knot is clasped in place by a wreath of seed pearls that twist in and out of the bun, along with the braids.
Only a few stray locks of hair have been kept lose, a deliberate choice to frame my face and add to the romantic, dreamy feel of my bridal look.
“You’re a vision,” Alice says like a proud mother.
The funny thing is, I actually believe her.
“Now, it’s time to put on the dress.”
The moment she says those words, I go pale.
It just feels too real. Too much.
The reality of what I have to do next settles over me like a weight I can’t move.
“No,” I say softly.
“Esme, love, I know this is difficult…”
“I can’t put on a dress,” I say, dangerously close to tears. “I… can’t get married.”
Alice grabs my hands and gets ready to say something.
But before she can, the door bolts open. Alice jumps to her feet and backs away, releasing my hands as she turns to Crew Cut and Blue Eyes.
“She’s not ready yet,” she stammers.
“It doesn’t matter,” Crew Cut tells her. “The ceremony is about to start.”
“You can’t make me do this,” I say, getting to my feet.
For the first time, Crew Cut meets my eyes.
“If you don’t do it yourself,” he tells me, “we’ll be forced to get involved. Do you want us dressing you?”
My heart thuds unevenly in my chest. I know what will happen if I fight them. They’ve made that more than clear.
“Get out,” I spit at them. “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”
The moment the door closes, Alice’s team rushes forward with the dress. I try not to stare at it too much, but I can’t help but notice that it really is a beautiful gown. Made of silk and chiffon, its A-line skirt is simple and classic and its bodice is worked with the same seed pearls that have been woven into my hair.
Once the dress is on, something is attached to my head and the veil is inserted right after.
I don’t bother looking at myself in the mirror.
I don’t care anymore.
“Are you ready?” Alice asks.
“No,” I whisper. “But as everyone keeps reminding me, I don’t have a choice.”
Alice reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, love.”
That’s the last thing she says to me.
Then it’s time to go.
26
Esme
I walk out of the room and out to where Crew Cut and Blue Eyes are waiting for me.
They lead me down the corridor, up the stairs, and into a huge space that’s hundreds of feet high.
The ceiling is adorned with mosaic, tilework, and the most beautifully intricate paintings I’ve ever seen. But I allow myself only one glance before my eyes turn to what’s before me.
The pews of the church are packed. I recognize precisely none of the faces that are crowded into the pews. There are a few women here and there, but it’s mostly men—big Russian mobsters in their fine suits who look me up and down with lust.
I glance behind me but my bodyguards have disappeared into thin air. I’m standing there alone, dressed to the nines, about to walk down the aisle to…
Artem.
I see him at the very end of the aisle, standing next to a minister who doesn’t really look like a minister.
I look down instantly. My heart beats furiously. Like it is trying to tell me something.
This is really happening. You can’t escape it.
“Start walking,” someone hisses at me.
I don’t see who and I don’t turn to
