Page 137 of Fierce Pursuit

“He took care of everything,” she went on, her voice softer now. “And by making me an Ivanov, he kept me safe. My father was involved in some very bad deals, and Gregor made sure I was untouchable.”

Silence settled over the room, the only sound the slight rustle my dress made when I turned, meeting her eyes directly. “Samara, sweetie,” I said flatly. “Blink twice if you need me to get you out of here.”

The women threw their heads back and laughed.

I stood frozen in place, my stomach churning as Nadia strolled past, effortlessly pouring four glasses of champagne. The soft pop of the bottle, the clinking of crystal, it was all so normal.

Like this was some celebration.

Like I hadn’t just woken up in a gilded cage I had no idea how to escape from.

“Look,” Yelena said, handing me a glass, apparently unaware I was considering hurling it across the room. “They’re not always the best at communicating what they want.” She took a slow sip, her dark lashes lowering as shestudied me. “But you have to believe Kostya is going to be a good husband.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh.

“I’m sure he’ll be a fantastic husband. To someone else.” I set the champagne aside, crossing my arms. The delicate lace of the dress shifted with the movement, reminding me that I was still trapped in this ridiculous fantasy none of these women seemed to question.

“I am not getting married today.”

I’d lost count of how many times I had said those words since I woke up, and yet, every single one of them refused to hear me.

Samara tilted her head, contemplating me. “Do you know why Kostya wants to marry you?”

A bitter smile curled my lips.

“Well,” I muttered, “last night, he couldn’t stop talking about how he’d get to fuck me whenever he wants and keep me pregnant.”

Yelena smirked.

Samara’s knowing gaze didn’t falter.

And Nadia simply sipped her champagne and said, “That sounds about right.”

My pulse pounded in my ears.

The room suddenly felt too small, the tight bodice of the dress pressing in on me, stealing my air.

The mirrors surrounding me reflected back the image of a woman dressed in white, perfectly styled, perfectly poised. A bride.

But beneath the lace and silk, my heart was pounding like a trapped animal’s.

I was trapped in a fucking waking nightmare…a white-silk-and-champagne-drenched nightmare.

CHAPTER 39

MARINA

Ihad to get out of here before it was too late.

The girls laughed again as if I had just told the funniest joke they had ever heard.

If someone looked in through the boutique’s large windows, they would see a picture-perfect moment. A beautiful woman in white, surrounded by friends sipping champagne, laughter spilling effortlessly into the air. They would see a bride preparing for the happiest day of her life, glowing with excitement, her friends celebrating with her.

They wouldn’t see the truth.

They wouldn’t see the smothering weight pressing against my ribs, the dread curling in my stomach like a living thing, the way my fingers trembled as I smoothed the skirt of the gown.

I looked like a blushing bride.

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