Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
When it’s time to exchange vows, Lev takes my hand. His grip is firm. Possessive. “I, Lev, take you, Isabella, to be my lawfully wedded wife,” he says, his voice steady and unwavering. “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’ll remember that, Mr. Romanov.
I swallow hard, fighting back the scream rising in my throat. I never thought I’d be here. Here goes nothing.
“I, Isabella, take you, Lev, to be my lawfully wedded husband,” I say, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “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.”
The rings are exchanged, cold metal slipping onto my finger. I stare at the physical reminder I’m shackled to him.
D’aw. How sweet. A mini handcuff.
When the officiant pronounces us husband and wife, Lev leans in, his lips brushing mine in a chaste kiss. I brace myself. I remind myself to stay aloof, not to allow him to have any power over me at all, but the touch sends a shiver down my spine. He’s hot, and I’m not dead. And now that we’re married… there’s no telling what he’ll do to me next.
When the ceremony ends and we turn to face the crowd, the applause is deafening. When I glance at Lev, his expression is inscrutable.
This is just the beginning, I remind myself. The game has only just begun.
His hand grazes my elbow. I stifle a shiver at his touch, even as my body tingles and my heart beats faster. I swallow, quickly scanning the room to anchor myself. I catch Polina’s gaze, and she winks at me. I wink back, take in a deep breath, and march forward beside my husband.
Means to an end. Means to an end, I chant in my head. I can do this.
As we walk down the aisle together, side by side, I vow silently to myself that I will find a way out. Lev may think he’s won, but he doesn’t know what I’m capable of. I will bide my time, gather intel and strength… and when the moment is right, I will make my move.
“Phew,” I mutter under my breath. “Something about being held captive and being forced to marry a Russian gives a girl an appetite, I guess.”
Lev’s large, rough, warm hand squeezes mine just a bit. His eyes spark at me. “I get it. There’s something about keeping a Colombian firecracker princess hostage that’s made me a bit peckish, too.”
I can’t help it. A corner of my lip twitches. He’s told me we’re in this together, but I am not so sure about that. I need cold, hard evidence before I will believe it.
I’m more than a little pleased, though. It’s nice to know I haven’t been the easiest to keep prisoner. I haven’t lost my touch. Maybe he isn’t quite as hard to read as he thinks he is.
“You shine up nice,” I say appreciatively when he shrugs out of his suit coat and leads me into the dining room. I can throw him a bone.
The room is set up with large vases of flowers in deep reds and oranges. The air is filled with the warm scents of cinnamon and clove, making my heart ache just a little. I don't miss my family, but I do love my homeland. The colors and scents remind me of the markets in Colombia.
I’ll get back there.
There’s a small table set for two a bit apart from the rest, and he leads me over to it.
“I shine up nice?” he says with a smirk. “I’d say the same for you, but you never lost your luster. Even when you’re angry, you’re beautiful.” He sighs. “Especially when you’re angry. You’re glowing, but it doesn’t take much to spark your eyes, does it?”
I stare at him before responding. There’s no hint of foul play or sarcasm in his tone.
He pulls out a chair for me while I stand frozen. “Did you just pay me a compliment?”
“Definitely not,” he says, shaking his head. I unfreeze and fold myself into the chair, giving him a curious look. “Just an observation,” he finishes.
“Right,” I say, remembering how my father would rant about my looks and scream about keeping me away from predators and men who would use me. I wasn’t allowed to wear anything tight or remotely appealing. I couldn’t wear makeup or two-piece bathing suits, and the day he caught me trying on lip gloss, he gave me a fat lip. His “protection” had nothing to do with me and everything to do with his own pride.
On the surface, it might seem Lev’s appreciation of me is something I would want. But I know better.