I stare long and hard, willing him to look at me. To fucking see me. To step up and call this off.
Color begins to creep up his neck, staining his droopy jowls.
He knows I’m looking to him for salvation, he has to know…
The priest clears his throat nervously and asks, “Who gives this bride in marriage?”
Coward.
Impatient, or simply aware that I’m about to make a scene, Alexei takes a step forward as my father answers, “I do.”
Silence falls across the church as my father’s arm slips from mine and Alexei grabs my hands.
With a little tug, he forces me to turn, facing him.
Fingers squeezing around mine, he holds me tight as the priest tries to lead everyone into prayer.
“Remember, I already own you, zaika,” Alexei whispers softly as the priest’s wheezy, old voice drones on and on. “This is merely a formality.”
My gaze jerks up to peer at his smirking face.
“Nothing you do or say during this ceremony will change the outcome. It’s already been predetermined.”
I know he’s trying to scare me into not embarrassing him, but it’s actually having the opposite effect. If everything is already predetermined, if nothing I say or do will change the outcome, then there’s really no reason to hope for the best and bite my tongue.
My lips curving to mirror his own smirk, I ask softly, “What kind of loser forces a woman to marry him against her will?”
Alexei’s hands suddenly squeeze painfully around mine and I let out a little yelp just as the priest finishes his prayer.
The priest glances at me in alarm and a few angry murmurs and grumbles from my side of the church reach my ears.
“Carry on,” Alexei growls.
Glancing down at our hands, for a moment the priest looks like he’s going to protest. Then Alexei shoots him a dark look.
“Yes… yes… where was I?” the priest nervously stammers and looks away.
He begins to start up the same prayer again only to stop abruptly.
With a look of frustration, Alexei snaps, “Just get to the vows.”
“Of course,” the priest grumbles and begins to flip through his book.
Returning his attention to me, Alexei stares into my tear-filled eyes.
Thumbs stroking against my hands, he says, “My patience is limited. The next time you insult me, I won’t be so gentle. Do you understand?”
Fearing he might hurt me again, I have no choice but to nod my head.
Pleased by my answer, Alexei smiles and gives my hands another squeeze. “Good.”
Pain suddenly shoots straight up my bad arm, and I can’t tell if he did it intentionally or unintentionally.
“This marriage can be quite pleasant for you, if you allow it. Or you can be completely miserable. The choice is yours…”
Before I can even think of how to respond to that, the priest begins to recite our vows.
“Alexei Rastov,” the priest stammers. “Do you take Meghan Fiona Callahan 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?
Grinning like he’s the cat that ate the canary, Alexei stares into my eyes as he says, “I do.”
The priest nods and looks back down at his book. I know he’s purposely avoiding looking at me.
“Meghan Fiona Callahan, do you take Alexei Rastov for your 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 you part?”
Alexei squeezes my hands, his grip becoming tighter and tighter until I cry out, “I do.”
The priest smiles, a look of relief settling over his wizened face. “What God joins together, let no man—”
A gun shot rings out, echoing off the rafters in the nearly empty church.
At first, I think my ears must be playing tricks on me. But then another one rings out, and another. Chaos erupts around me, so sudden, so unexpected, I can’t help but wonder if this is real.
Seriously, is this shit really happening?
“Meghan!” my father cries out, and I spin to face him. Clutching at his arm, he orders me to, “Get down!”
Before I can act on his order, Alexei gives me a shove toward the nearest pews. “Igor, protect her!”
Igor appears out of nowhere and grabs me roughly by my bad arm, dragging me and shoving me down behind the pews.
More gun shots ring out and shouts go up, a mixture of Russian and English.
I try to pop my head up to see what the hell is going on only to have Igor shove me back down.
“Stay,” he grunts as he aims a pistol and fires at the front of the church.
Knowing it’s probably in my best interest to follow his command and make myself as small of a target as possible, I twist around and drag my legs in as far as my big fluffy white skirt will allow me.