Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Katya…”
“I mean it. You still have time to stop it. To call it off. To tell them you changed your mind.”
He exhales, his eyes softening. “And what would that solve?”
“I wouldn’t belong to him.”
“You don’t belong to anyone.”
I blink at his reflection, stunned.
He steps closer, his voice gentler now. “I didn’t choose this path to control you. I chose it because I know your strength and I know what you can do. This isn’t a punishment, Katya. With this marriage you’ll build a solid foundation.”
“A foundation for you,” I snap. “For your empire. Not for me.”
His smile turns wistful, and I know he’s about to fire the big guns. “Your mother would be so proud of you.”
The words cut deeper than I’d expected. I turn my face away, but it’s too late. Tears are already burning my eyes.
“I can feel her here with us,” he murmurs. “She’s watching over you. She’d be fussing with your hair. Crying into a tissue. Telling me not to smudge your makeup when I kiss your cheek.”
I blink rapidly, fighting the sting. “I miss her,” I whisper.
“I know.” His voice softens, and for a moment I see his armor crack. He misses her too. “She believed in this. In peace, in progress, and in you.”
He presses a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
“Your marriage to Isaac will do wonders for both families. You’ll understand that someday.”
He pats my shoulder and turns away, ending the conversation. That’s it, then. I really do have to go through with this.
I’m alone for mere seconds before Maude steps back in and unzips the garment bag. I can’t see her face as she takes in the dress, but the quick tension in her shoulders gives her away. Still, she says nothing. She drapes the gown over the shower rod and faces me, hands planted on her hips.
“It’s time, Miss Katya,” she says in her brisk, businesslike tone. “All that’s left is to get you dressed, and then you’ll be mistress of the house.”
I draw a deep breath and push to my feet, willing my shaky knees not to betray me. If she notices, she says nothing. That restraint is what I appreciate about her.
I stand in the middle of the bathroom like a doll while she lowers the dress and pools it at my feet. She guides me into the fabric, then pulls it up and cinches the corset, her fingers flying over the laces.
I watch her work, admiring my final act of defiance. With any luck, Isaac will take one look at me in this dress and walk straight out of the ceremony.
Maude lets out a quiet breath as she settles the veil. “You look breathtaking.”
“Thank you,” I say sincerely, though stunning wasn’t exactly what I was going for.
She guides me to the garden doors, now closed and curtained for a dramatic entrance. Music drifts down the hallway, mingling with the excited chatter of guests. I don’t even know who’s here, but I resent every last person who showed up to witness my execution.
Maude peeks through the drape, then turns and gives me a thumbs-up. It was showtime. She swings the doors open, and I step to the threshold, finally seeing my wedding venue.
The garden is drenched in soft, glowing sunlight. It was the kind of flawless weather photographers pray for. Golden rays sift through tall hedges, scattering dappled patterns across the aisle. White chairs flank the stone path, and beneath a rose-covered trellis a string quartet plays something soft and hopeful. Everything is pristine, which only makes me want to ruin it.
At Maude’s cue, I start down the aisle alone. No escort, no bouquet. The crowd gasps the moment I round the hedge and step into view. I hear the reaction ripple, starting with one sharp breath, then another, then an inflow of soft whispers of confusion.
Somewhere from the front, Evie catches my eye and winks at me.
My gown is a simple sheath of silk, molded to my curves and flaunting far more cleavage than any wedding planner would sanction. But the color, a striking jet black, is the real showstopper. It’s my final stand, a public declaration that this ceremony feels like a death sentence. Their shock is exactly what I wanted, exactly what I needed.
I keep moving, slow and steady, heels clicking on the stone, silk whispering around my legs like smoke. I nodded and smile at the horrified guests, savoring every flinch of judgment. Let them judge. This wedding is a farce.
When I finally look at Isaac, disappointment punches me. I had hoped for a disastrous fury, for him to take one look and storm off. At the very least I wanted disapproval, but his face showed none of that.
Instead, he’s smiling. Really smiling. It isn’t the thin grin of a man masking anger, it’s genuine and brighter than the sun. His ice-blue eyes dance with delight, as though he expected nothing less from me.