The Unwelcome Guest

Katya

New emotions rushed through me when I woke up, I felt happy, and excited.

But all that came to a halt the moment I reached for the dark  prince who had woken these feelings in me, and found the bed cold and empty.

My eyes snapped open, and I took in the empty luxurious bedroom, expecting him to appear any minute smelling fresh from the shower.

But instead, what my eyes registered was the giant wall clock which announced that it was eight o'clock in the morning.

Shit! It's my wedding day!

I dashed out of bed and pulled the duvet with me, my heart racing in fear as I picked my lingerie and dress littered on the floors.

Wearing them quickly, I cursed when I saw my reflection in the giant mirror of the bathroom, the evidence of last night bringing a blush to my cheeks.

The delicate skin of my neck was red with hickeys, and my cheeks scuffed with the rough stubbles of his chiseled jaw, when he had kissed me thoroughly before going down on me...

I forced my thoughts away from the magic of his delicious touch and quickly searched the drawer. Minutes later, I had written a short note with a heart and left it on the nightstand.

It was a strong gut in my feelings that told me that this was the one, and I knew he would save me from this forced marriage.

He had probably stepped out to get us breakfast, and I regretted that I wouldn't be able to stay to enjoy it. With one last look at the room which had opened my heart to possibilities, I stepped into the hallway.

Something was wrong.

It was more crowded this morning, and strange men in suits who looked dangerous in an off-putting manner stared at me with disgust.

I lowered my face to the floors and managed to make it past the elevator, but as soon as the doors slid open, I came face to face with my father's head of security, looking pissed and uglier than he always did.

"You fucking slut, you tried to run away?"

Before I could open my mouth, a large hand had smacked my face and rough hands grabbed hold of me, pulling me out of the vicinity of the casino and forcing me into the black van I recognized so well.

It was the same van that my mum and I had been forced into when she dared run away with me. I hadn't seen her for days after that, and later, she had worn a bandage for weeks.

Fear chilled me to the bones, stars dancing in my eyes from the impact of that slap. When I realized myself, the van was pulling into the mansion where I had felt like a prisoner, and other luxurious cars were parked in the lot.

I was dragged out of the car, my cheeks still hurting terribly and muscles sore for another pleasurable reason. The front door opened and my dad's furious face came into view, his mighty frame towering over me and chilling me to the bones.

And as soon as he was in a heating distance, he lifted my face, examined me carefully, and slapped me.

"A whore, like your mother. Fucking disgrace. If you have sullied any part of your body and reduced the value of the amount Boris is willing to pay on your head, I will sell you to the slave market, do you understand?"

It hurt like a bitch, so so much, but I nodded, my teeth trembling in fear. Where is mother? Had he beaten her for not keeping an eye on me?

He tightened his hold on my jaw, his ice blue eyes flaring,

"Shouldn't have fucking married an American woman. Whores, all of them. Go upstairs and dress up for the wedding, and if you try anything, I will cut off your legs for sneaking out last night."

He pushed me after he had spoken, and I fell on the floors, the sands digging harshly into my reddened face as though to mock me.

His security forced me upwards and pushed me towards the back doors, my tears falling quietly against the marble stairs.

My mother was the first person I saw when I entered my room, her swollen eyes and split lips staring back at me. Guilt slammed into me for causing this for her, and I wrapped my hands around her small frame, sobbing quietly against her warmth.

"It's... It's okay, dress up, okay? I...I'll do your makeup."

Sadness and fear enveloped me with each layer of makeup my mother put on my face. And when I wore the dress, panic attack threatened to grip hold of me.

Ferrara... Ferrara...

I chanted the name in a whisper, each memory of him calming me down, filling my empty heart with hope.

But soon, my face was covered in a long lace veil, and I was walking down our spacious mansion which felt like a prison, my fingers trembling as I held the bouquet.

Each step would bring me closer to being Don Boris' wife, and no doubt, the old man would use me as a slave and force me to perform disgusting acts with him. I wouldn't be able to attend college or fulfill my dream of becoming a dancer...

I shivered in fear.

My heart was racing, tears rolling down my cheeks. I had gotten to our living room where different clans gathered to witness the marriage, and Boris was in the middle of the aisle, his protruding stomach, bald head and brown teeth staring back at me.

He was assessing me like a piece of meat, the stench of weed oozing all over the room.

I wanted to throw up.

Please, please, someone save me.

My feet and fingers were shaking, and my father gripped hold of me and tightened his palm around my wrist, squeezing till I gasped sharply in pain.

"Don't attempt to embarrass me, Boris has paid a lot to make you his wife and you will smile and serve him in every way, or I will stop you from seeing your mother."

More tears rolled down my cheeks, my fingers sweaty and cold at the same time. I nodded with trembling lips and forced my feet to reach the end of the room, where I stood facing Don Boris.

The middle aged man who was to be my husband pushed himself upwards and handed his weed over to one of his guards.

I tried not to focus on the ugly scar running down the corner of his eye where it seemed like his face had been split open, and the minister's words hovered in my ears like a background horror music.

"Do you, Katya Petrov, take this man..."

I shut my eyes, sweat and tears competing on which would drive me insane faster.

And just when I parted my lips, knowing that my words would be the end of my happiness, the doors opened.

Like everyone in the room, my eyes were drawn to the door, and my heart stopped beating, my brain ceasing to work.

Because walking into the room was none other than my mystery man, Ferrara, looking perfect to none in a suit, and surrounding him were tons of security officers carrying weapons.

Hope flashed like a beam of light in my cold dark deserted world.

Ferrara had come for me, to save me.