Page 7 of Velvet Chains
I stare at him, my jaw clenching.
Fuck. Laur, don’t expect anything from him.
I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm the rage bubbling up inside me. Of course he doesn’t care about my safety or wellbeing.
When has he ever?
This is the man who made my mother’s life a living hell, who crushed her spirit until she couldn’t take it anymore. The man who didn’t shed a single tear at her funeral.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, steeling myself against the pain. I should have known better than to hope for anything different.
Ksenia sighs heavily, her patience wearing thin. “As entertaining as this is, we really need to get moving. The ceremony starts in ten minutes.”
She turns to my father, her eyes narrowing. “Just remember, you’re here to walk her down the aisle and nothing more. Don’t try anything funny.”
He swallows hard, nodding vigorously. “Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“But Victor…” I start, my voice trembling. “What about him? Is he okay? Where is he?”
“Don’t ask any stupid questions,” she snaps, striding back over to us. “It’s time.”
She grabs my arm in a vice-like grip, her fingers digging into my flesh through the delicate fabric of my dress. I wince but don’t resist as she starts hauling me toward the door.
My father falls into step beside us, straightening his tie with a self-satisfied smirk.
Ksenia flings open the door and we step out into the hallway. The sudden brightness makes me squint, my eyes adjusting to the light after the dimness of the waiting room.
I try to catch my father’s eye, searching for some hint of reassurance or comfort, but he’s already walking ahead, his back straight and his head held high. Like he’s proud to be here, proud to be selling his only daughter to the highest bidder.
Ksenia falls into step beside me, her grip on my arm never loosening. She leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear.
“Better pray hard that you have a husband to marry,” she whispers, her voice as cold as ice.
Chapter 3
Laura
THE WOODEN doors creak open, and the first notes of the wedding march float through the air. My stomach churns, bile rising in the back of my throat, but I force myself to take my father’s arm, my fingers digging into his sleeve.
“Smile,” he hisses through clenched teeth, patting my hand. “You’re a lucky girl, Laur. Don’t forget it.”
I want to tear myself away from him and run, but I can’t. Not with all these eyes on me, watching, judging. So, I paste on a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as brittle as it feels.
Slowly, we start down the aisle, the train of my dress whispering against the ancient stone. The church is packed, every pew filled with faces I don’t recognize. Men in sharp suits, women dripping with jewels, all of them turning to stare at me like I’m some prize on display.
I keep my eyes focused straight ahead, searching for him. For Victor. He should be there, waiting for me at the altar. But as we draw closer, my heart sinks.
He’s not there.
The spot where he should be standing is empty, a gaping void that sends a chill down my spine.
Where is he?
Panic claws at my insides, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I can’t do this. I can’t go through with this, not without him. He’s the only thing keeping me tethered, the only thing stopping me from losing my mind completely.
I scan the crowd desperately, looking for a friendly face, for someone who might help me. But all I see are strangers, their expressions ranging from boredom to outright hostility.
A man with a jagged scar bisecting his cheek leans forward, his eyes raking over me like I’m a piece of meat. Next to him, a woman with a diamond choker that probably costs more than my entire bookstore sips champagne, her lips curled in a sneer.
