Page 15 of Vows of Blood
Mr. Mechnikov looks like he’s about to explode. “There is still the matter of a debt that must be paid. This marriage was supposed to be a union of good faith between our families. What does that say that your own daughter chose to run instead of standing up for her own bloodline?”
“Calm down, Maxim,” my father says. He walks over to the drink caddy on the other side of the room and starts making himself a whiskey on the rocks. “My men are looking for her as we speak. They’ll find her.”
“And if they don’t? How do you plan on settling this debt? The amount of money your son stole from us?—”
“He didn’t steal anything from you,” my father said, pointing a finger at him. “He didn’t need to steal. He had money.”
“If that were true, your family wouldn’t be going broke.”
My father glances at me and I turn away. I’m not supposed to be hearing any of this. I look across the room at Alexei. He doesn’t even look like he’s paying attention. His eyes are on the patterns of the wall he’s standing next to. He’s like Maxim Mechnikov’s guard dog, rather than his son.
“We’ll figure something out,” Dad says.
“How can we trust you now? How do we know you didn’t plan for your daughter to escape in the first place?”
They’re bickering, and all I want to do right now is leave, just walk away and go back to my own house and let them handle it. After all, what do I have to do with any of this, anyway? If only I could walk out of here without hearing my father’s voice.
“This is ridiculous,” I hear Dad say, and I zone back into the conversation. “They’re not trading cards. You can’t just switch one out for the other.”
“Why not? I have no guarantees that you’re not involved with your daughter’s disappearance. This way, our alliance stands and trust can be rebuilt between us.”
Alarms are going off in my head. I look over at Alexei and suddenly, he’s watching the back of his father’s head, his eyes wide with alarm.
“You have two daughters,” Mr. Mechnikov says. “It doesn’t matter to me which one you choose. All that matters is the union between our families.”
Oh, God. I turn to my father. “No. You can’t. Dad?—”
“Shut up, Isabella. You can’t understand how important this is.”
“What are you talking about? This… this is about me! You can’t be seriously thinking?—”
He throws his drink and the glass smashes against the wall. Then he grabs me by my shoulders and shakes me. “YOU WILL DO WHAT I TELL YOU!” He yells. “WHATEVER I TELL YOU, BECAUSE I AM YOUR FATHER!”
Tears start burning in my eyes. I feel like I’m being punished like a little kid. “Daddy,” I whimper. “Please… please don’t do this.”
He pushes me away and I almost fall over. I catch myself, but I’m standing on knees that feel like they’re going to buckle.
“This isn’t about you,” he says as he makes another drink. “This is about our family. You’re going to marry Alexei and that’s the end of it. Now, go upstairs and try on your sister’s dress. Now, so we can call the shop and have it altered if we need to.”
I don’t know what to do. I just stand there, wobbling back and forth for a minute, until he turns and stares me down.
I will myself to move. I get halfway up the stairs before my stomach lurches. I rush quickly up the stairs as the bile rises in my throat. I just barely make it to the upstairs bathroom.
6
ALEXEI
Ithink Pavel has had too much to drink already.
It’s the night before my ‘marriage’ and Pavel has elected to take me out to celebrate. Given the circumstances surrounding my situation, I find it odd that we’re even going through this stupid ritual. Outside of keeping up appearances from those outside our inner circle, I think he is just using this as an excuse to go out and drink.
And see naked women. We’re at one of the strip bars that I manage, sitting in a corner booth in our special section. Security stands a few feet away from us and velvet ropes keep us separated from the unwashed masses. I suppose this setup is designed to make us feel like kings, but right now, I don’t feel much of anything.
I look out at the bar. The colored strobe lights and loud music. The topless women in tiny G-strings dancing on the poles in the center of the room and the patrons all watching them from the chairs around the stage. ‘Sniffer’s row’, Pavel calls it.
I look around, and I’m reminded of the wisdom of not being boots on the ground at one of these places. Every single one I’ve ever been in is basically the same. The same customers, the same girls, the same problems. These places never really change over time. All these hopeful saps throw their money away to women wouldn’t piss on them to put them out if they were on fire.
And this is where my brother thinks to bring me for my ‘last night out as a free man’. I don’t even know what that means, really. I’m getting into a fake marriage for the good of my family. Was I ever really free to begin with?
