Page 70 of The Enemy Protector

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Maybe we both are.

Nelson is near the door, looking uncomfortable in his suit. He catches my eye and gives me a small, encouraging smile. Like this is all perfectly normal.

If I allowed myself to think about it, I would be sad. Sad that I’m getting married with no family or friends to witness it. Nelson is the closest thing to a friend I have here.

And that is most definitely sad.

A priest sits on the couch. I think he’s a priest. I honestly don’t know. He’s older, gray-haired and wearing traditional vestments. He looks bored. I wonder how much Sergei paid him to come here and perform this ceremony without asking questions.

Probably a lot.

Sergei turns when he hears my footsteps. His eyes sweep over me, taking in the black dress. I see something flash across his face—surprise? Disapproval? I wait for his reaction.

Instead, his expression smooths into that infuriating neutral mask he wears so well.

“Sofia,” he says. Just my name. Nothing else.

I stop a few feet away from him. “Sergei.”

We stare at each other. A silent standoff.

I see the determination in his eyes. Control. A man who’s made up his mind and won’t be swayed.

I see myself reflected back at me.

“We should begin,” the priest says, clearly wanting to get this over with.

I don’t move. Neither does Sergei.

“Did you tell your father?” he asks quietly.

“No. We agreed not to.”

“Good.”

I hate that he approves. I don’t trust my father. I don’t trust that he wouldn’t tell Yuri. I don’t think he would allow the marriage to happen. He would kill me to stop it.

My father made it clear I’m on my own. So, I’m on my own.

“Ready?” Sergei asks.

No. I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready for this.

“Yes,” I lie.

We move to stand in front of the priest. Sergei is on my right, close enough that I can smell his cologne. For a second, I’m back in that alley.

Why?

It’s his cologne.

I turn to look at him. I remember the faces of my attackers. They used to haunt me at night. Now, they only show up after a stressful day.

“Sofia,” he says my name, low and deep.

I can’t catch my breath.

“Sofia.”

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