Episode 4

Naomi

A wedding dress. The words echoed in my head as blood pounded in my ears. It was as if someone yanked out the world from under my feet. I wanted to vomit on the buffed wooden floors.

Those should’ve been the happiest words I could hear. But instead, all I felt was cold reality gripping its iron fist around my heart.

“The wedding is tomorrow,” Gavril replied, clasping his hands behind his back. “And you need a dress.”

Tomorrow.

My head spun. I was having trouble breathing.

I clenched my hands into fists, taking his emotionless expression head on. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I wasn’t Sveta, that he could marry me and gain nothing. I could already picture his eyes growing dark with rage, his expression hardening before his hands tightened around my throat to squeeze the life out of me.

For one maddening moment, I imagined myself smiling through the pain and spitting in his face as my final act of defiance.

It would be easy. Oh, goodness, it would be too easy to make that a reality. All I had to do was tell him the truth about what he had already lost without realizing. And then it would be over.

But I couldn’t force the words past my lips.

Call me a coward, but I didn’t want to die.

I did, however, want to get out of this wedding.

“This isn’t what my father wants,” I finally said, my voice shaking. “He will never agree to this.”

Gavril looked at me curiously before a short laugh escaped him. “Agree? Don’t you know?”

“Know what?” I asked in a small voice.

His eyes sparkled with glee, and my skin crawled. “Your father is dead, Sveta,” he said in a flat tone, with no warmth or emotion attached to his news. “It doesn’t matter what he planned or what he wants.”

I gasped, and tears sprang to my eyes. I already knew about the death of Stanislav Orlov. But it was the cold and callous way that Gavril would have told Sveta had she been standing here in my place. She might not have cared about her father like a seventeen-year-old would, but to be told the news by a man with a cruel smile on his face…

“You are evil,” I said softly, my heart going out to the dead girl.

He didn’t respond, instead moving closer to me until he had me pressed against the wall. His hand reached out and I waited for him to hit me, but Gavril only grabbed my chin and forced me to meet his gaze.

“You know,” he said, the woodsy scent of his cologne overwhelming my senses. “You aren’t what I expected.”

I was tongue tied. Up close, I could see the small lines around his eyes, the flecks of gold there that were just as hard as the rest of him. His cheeks and jaw were covered with a dusting of a beard.

He looked like he should be on the middle of the runway and not a cruel master intent on marrying an innocent woman against her will.

“What did you expect?” I asked lightly, deciding to challenge him instead of remaining silent. “A meek girl who is afraid of you? Who’ll just roll over at your command?”

His eyes widened just a little, and his fingers tightened on my chin. Clearly I had surprised him.

But then he leaned in until his lips were mere inches from mine. “That was exactly what I expected you to be, Sveta.”

I was fixated on his lips, marveling at how lush and full they were. My breath caught at the sensual way each Russian word dripped off his tongue like a teasing caress. There was an air of danger in his exterior, but underneath the danger, there was a wicked attractiveness that made me ache at my core.

I looked back up at his eyes and saw that he was staring. His lips parted, and a surge of panic rose up. Was he about to kiss me? No. No, he can’t! I felt my own traitorous lips starting to part, and I imagined him pushing me against the wall, his rough hands tearing at my clothes as punishment for not being afraid of him. His thumb brushed against the bottom of my lip, and I felt a warm tremor slowly move from my stomach to the space between my thighs. My breath quickened, and I felt my chin tilting up to meet his lips.

Suddenly, Gavril released my chin and stepped back, straightening the cuffs of his coat.

“Oh,” he answered with a dark chuckle. “I like that anger about you, Sveta. But it will do you no good to fight me. I will get what I want. And in time, you will beg me for it.”

His stare penetrated me to my core. My hands slowly rose up to cover my chest, even though I was fully clothed. The smirk on his lips curled up even further, and I clenched my thighs together, shamefully aware of the slickness that was pooling between them.

“Take off your clothes,” he finally said. “I don’t have all morning.”

My face flushed, and my heart jumped to my throat. Take my clothes off? In front of him?

“Why?”

Gavril arched a brow. “While you look very delectable this morning, you can’t try on wedding dresses in that outfit. Vera has gone to the trouble of procuring a team of seamstresses to make adjustments on what you picked out. I tried to give them the best size I could, but the dresses must fit perfectly.”

I was horrified. He really had thought about everything.

“Take your clothes off, Sveta,” he finished, voice thick and hard. “This is not a request.”

Of course, he wasn’t. There wasn’t a dress in this room that I wanted on my body. Especially not one that was bought and paid for by the man who was going to trap Sveta in marriage and use her for his plans.

Well, he wasn’t staring at Sveta Orlov but Naomi Spencer, who was used to being pushed around and could fight back just as well.

Fuck him and his plans. I wasn’t going to just go with them.

“No.”

The cruel playfulness disappeared from his eyes. “What did you say?”

I raised my chin in defiance, wishing I had worn my pajamas now just to spite him. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest in defiance, but I was going to stand my ground.

“I said no.”

Bracing myself, I waited. Was he going to hit me? Shoot me? Strangle me? It didn’t matter.

Finally, he said, “Only Stanislav’s daughter would have the balls to talk back like this.”

No, she wouldn’t, but he didn’t know that. “You can always let me go.”

Gavril shook his head, the hint of a hard smile playing on his lips. “Let me lay this out for you, Sveta. If you do not agree to pick out a fucking dress and play the role of blushing bride, I will give you to my guards. You put up quite a fight against them. And I’m sure they’d be happy to repay that favor and fuck you until you bleed.”

Fear swirled in my stomach, but I didn’t show it outwardly. “I will kill you before you get the chance.”

Gavril’s laugh was grating, almost bordering on disbelief.

“Oh, I like you, Sveta,” he replied, reaching into his coat. I watched as he pulled out a shiny, slim knife, and my heart stuttered in my chest.

Here it was, my death. I’d pushed him too far, and now he had no choice but to kill me since I wasn’t going to be a willing participant in his plan.

Quickly I sent up words of thanks and apologies to the man upstairs, asking him to forgive me of my transgressions and find my soul a home wherever he thought was appropriate. I whispered my apologies to Ilsa, knowing she would be confused as to what had happened and why, but I hoped that my best friend knew I had gone down fighting, just like she had taught me to.

To my surprise, Gavril didn’t raise the knife in the air. Instead, he spun it in his hand and pointed it at me, handle first.

“Do you really think you can kill me?” he asked lightly. “Then give it your best shot, Sveta. Vera will be a witness, so that my guards will not exact vengeance upon you should you succeed. And if you’re lucky enough to kill me, then you will be allowed to leave.”

I glanced over to Vera, and she gave me a small nod, her expression almost bored at what was going on between us. What had she seen in her lifetime? Was she used to this horrible person and what he did to people? I had the sneaking suspicion that if I did end up killing Gavril, she would kill me and step over my corpse without a second thought.

Still, this was likely the only chance I would have. I could get my freedom by just killing him. It would be my last chance to take back my life and get out of this mess.

Besides, I held no special feelings for the man before me. If I killed him, a lot of people would likely cheer me on for doing so. He must have ruined a lot of people’s lives. And if we were being honest, the world was probably better off without him.

So, I took the knife, the slim metal not as heavy as I thought it would be. My palms were sweaty as I gripped it tightly, searching for the way I wanted to attack him.

One shot.

That was all I would get.

It had to be the right one.

When I started toward him, Gavril’s eyes widened as if he expected me to fall apart and throw the knife on the floor. My heart thundered against my rib cage. With each boom-doom of my heart, my anger grew. I thought about what he would have done to Sveta, to me.

He might not realize that he had the wrong woman. But he was going to pay a price for it.

With a snarl I launched at his chest, the knife primed and ready to plunge into his black heart.