Page 41 of His Darkest Obsession
"I'll walk you down the aisle," Svetlana offers suddenly, her usually impassive face softening. "Since you have no one else here."
She didn't intend to hurt me with her words, but they hurt all the same. I'm alone and I have no idea for how much longer I'll continue to be alone in this place.
I wonder how Amara is doing without me in the last two days. Has she been texting? Has Anatoly replied to her in my place, or has he simply left her messages unread?
Is she scared that I left her? Or is she scared that I've somehow shared the same fate as our parents?
Bitter guilt twists inside me, and I do my best to swallow it back.
"Thank you for the offer," I tell Svetlana, trying to smile. "But I can manage the walk well enough on my own."
"Look at me, Indigo Malcolmovna," Svetlana says.
Hazel eyes meet blue.
"You may not believe this, but there's a part of Tolya that cares about you. Truly cares."
"I know."
But somehow, that doesn't make me feel better about what's about to happen. Maybe it's because of what happened yesterday when we picked this dress. Maybe it's the knowledge that he can get past my defenses without trying.
Maybe it's the thought that I might not want to keep him out.
Or maybe, it's the thought that when the time comes for this arrangement to end, I won't want it to.
I asked him just how convincing this marriage needs to be when he first brought me here and he never gave me an answer. At least, not one that sated my curiosity. But now that I've caught a glimpse of the fire in his eyes in that mirror, I have a feeling that maybe being convincing is going to be the easy part.
A slow warmth fills my chest and it doesn't stop until it reaches the tips of my fingers and the roots of my hair.
"You're blushing," Svetlana notes with a knowing smile. "Thinking about your fiancé?"
I look away. "I'm thinking about getting through this day."
But I can't deny the flutter in my stomach at the thought of seeing Anatoly waiting for me at that beautiful ocean-side arch.
"Actually," I turn to look at Svetlana again. "I change my mind. You should walk me down the aisle."
"Gladly." Grinning, she offers me her arm and I slip easily enough into it.
The dress swishesaround my ankles as Svetlana and I descend the grand staircase. My hand clings to her arm, not because I need the support, but because I need something to anchor me.
Count your breaths. One. Two. Three.Left foot first. Don't trip.
The scene before me is stark in its simplicity. No rows of chairs filled with guests. No musicians. Just Roma, standing slightlyapart from his brother, and an older man in priestly attire between them.
And at the end of the white flower arch, Anatoly waits. His broad shoulders fill out his tux perfectly, and for a second, I forget all the reasons I should be keeping my distance instead of noticing how good he looks standing there waiting for me.
His expression is neutral. No happiness. No concern. And definitely not love.
I didn't offer him my love, and he's not demanding it.
The air is thick with the scent of roses mixing with the salt breeze coming off the sea. I take small shallow breaths as I walk. Beyond the cliffs, waves crash against rocks as if in muffled warning.
"Why do you call him Tolya?" I ask Svetlana as we come closer. "Shouldn't you address him more formally? Like you do with me?"
Her steps don’t falter as we approach, but something shifts on her face. A shadow of amusement passes, and something that almost looks like a wistful sadness trails in its wake. The breeze catches an errant strand of my hair, and pulls it loose.
Svetlana tucks it back into place with her free hand and offers me a cryptic smile.
