circular, matching the length of the veil.
The dress has a jewel neckline with a lace V-back that shows my skin. It’s elegant and fits me to perfection, as if it’s been specially made for me—which I wouldn’t put past Adrian.
“Is this tailored?” I ask Emily, who’s fussing with the veil.
“Yes, miss.” She beams. “We’re so glad we had it made in such a short time.”
“How long?”
“About a month.”
Since before I found out about the engagement. Adrian ordered for this dress to be made while he was engaged to Kristina. He’s intended to marry me since then.
I don’t know what to think about that. Should I be flattered? Angry? Both?
Emily says I should stay in my flat shoe since it’ll keep me comfortable. Besides, it’s covered by the dress, anyway. After finalizing the look, she retrieves a camera and grins. “Smile.”
I don’t know if I do as she takes the picture. I stare at my reflection in the long mirror and it’s like I don’t recognize myself. I look beautiful with slightly red cheeks, like a blushing bride.
But it’s the exact opposite.
That red is for anger, for the way Adrian is taking everything away and not giving me a choice.
Though he did give me one—being his wife or his mistress—but that’s merely another way of manipulating me. He never intended to go with my decision, not after he spent nearly a month preparing me a wedding dress.
Or maybe he would’ve thrown it away and had another one made for Kristina.
One thing’s for certain, I now know he’ll never let me go.
“You’re good to go, miss.” Emily smiles. “Want me to help you?”
“No, thanks.”
I lean on my crutch, head held high as I step out of the room. If I’m going to sacrifice myself, I’m not doing it with tears in my eyes or like a damsel in distress.
Because there are no knights in shining armor. What waits for me at the end of the aisle is a monster.
One I willingly let into my body and nearly allowed to destroy my soul.
Not anymore.
Adrian has added a black jacket to his outfit and stands in front of a sleepy-looking priest, with Kolya and Yan by his side. Other than that, the church is empty.
I hobble toward him and refuse to stare at the slight awe in his eyes, at how his expression lights for a bit before it completely closes off like the rest of him.
The moment I’m within reach, he squeezes my waist, and in spite of my crutch, he carefully pulls me close so his chest nearly crashes against mine.
The stormy winter skies in his eyes bore into mine as he orders the priest, “Start.”
I don’t want to look at his eyes or get caught in the lack of empathy there. Sometimes, they’re too apathetic, too black. Like now.
However, there’s something else in there, something akin to carnal possession.
I rip my gaze from his to focus on the priest, an old man with a half-bald head who speaks with a thick Russian accent.
“Skip that,” Adrian orders again when he starts to talk about marriage and its values.
“Do you, Adrian Volkov, take Lia Morelli as your wedded wife, to be with you always, in wealth and in poverty, in disease and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death do you part?”
“I do,” Adrian says with so much conviction, I want to stab him for taking such vows so recklessly.
The priest turns toward me. “Do you, Lia Morelli, take Adrian Volkov as your wedded husband, to be with you always, in wealth and in poverty, in disease and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death do you part?”
I stare at Adrian, at the promise of retaliation in his closed off features if I don’t say the words he wants me to.
He really shouldn’t have threatened me, because now, I’ll be completely on board with Luca’s plan. If not for anything else, then to get rid of him and the negative influence he has on my life.
Ever since he walked into it, I’ve lost complete control and I need to get it back.
During the past few weeks, I was planning to tell Luca I wouldn’t spy on the man who’s taking care of me, but Adrian showed me his true colors tonight.
“I do,” I say meekly, with no emotions at all.
“Are you sure, miss?” the priest asks, and Adrian stares at him as if contemplating whether or not he should chop his head off.
“I