Page 30 of The Russian's Kidnapped Bride
“Pick something nice. You represent me now,” he says, voice still gentle enough regardless of the hardness bellying it.
I clench my jaw. “And if I don’t?”
He studies me closely, almost scrutinizing me. “Don’t push me.”
I know well enough that I shouldn’t test boundaries, but something in me still wants to while my eyes narrow.
Without another word, Mikhail leaves the room a moment later, leaving a chill in his wake.
I’m left standing near those bags and boxes full of luxury clothes, trying to find my nerve again. Trying to stomach the fact that I can’t get out of this, no matter how badly I want to.
It’s hard to say how long I stay like that, lost in disbelief and the urge to avoid anything that has to do with his family. Finally, I force myself to move, gravitating over to the mountain of new clothes.
One by one, I open up the contents and lay them out, taking stock of everything Mikhail bought for me.
There are far too many dresses for one person, along with the basics that don’t look basic at all. Every deep-toned fabric feels so intentional, as if Mikhail himself wanted me to blend in with him—emanating his own style, in a sense.
It’s all luxurious, and all tailored for someone with more confidence than I can muster in the moment.
Of course, there are even countless pairs of shoes and clutches. Everything to make the outfit of someone who hasn’t been coerced into this.
Regardless of how gorgeous the clothes are, and how ridiculously out of my league they all are, I can’t help but look at them like they’re prison uniforms.
It sounds ungrateful, but I can’t help it. That’s exactly what they are.
He wants me to fit into his world regardless of how dangerous it is, and I despise that fact.
Still, I know I have to put one on. If I don’t, then I’ll just look weak like I’m crumbling beneath the pressure. That I’m scared of them and their world.
That’s what they want me to do, surely.
Right now, I only have my resistance and stubbornness left.
After some silent deliberation with myself, I pick the simplest dress I can find. It’s black, floor-length, and more elegant than I’ll ever be able to fathom.
It’s reminiscent of the dress I wore when I met Mikhail, and somehow, I hope it haunts him.
I hope it stings.
Chapter 10 - Mikhail
It’s as clear as day that Lily wants to be anywhere but here.
I can’t entirely blame her, but I don’t enjoy it either. Not when it concerns my family.
That fact is evident in the way she walks half a step behind me, rigid with every movement. She won’t meet my gaze after exiting the car and moving beneath the restaurant lights. Her shoulders are pinched together like it hurts to even approach the building, and I know she’s doing everything in her power to keep it together.
If anything, she’s biding her time well through that nearly torturous silence.
Despite her innocence, there’s a calculation in her quiet exterior, like she’s waiting.
But either way, it doesn’t matter how she plays whatever hand she has. I have her, and she’s mine entirely.
The ring on her finger, the records in city hall, and the fact that her name reflects mine all say so, and that isn’t up for debate. I’ll be damned if anyone tries to deny it.
Lily can hate it all she wants. She can hate me and everything I am, but it won’t change the truth. She’s my wife, and I intend to make that an absolute fact.
I was never someone who saw much value in marriage aside from potential business partnerships that could be exploited, but now, there’s something satisfying about it. Something I’ve had a taste of and don’t want to be without.
