Page 35 of Kidnapped Bride

And it wasn't like Nikolai was so horrible. I honestly thought the more time I spent around him, the more he was growing on me. The man I fell for, who had swept me off my feet, was in there still, hiding behind the monster. But I had to refuse and resist him on purpose, according to principle.

I went back to watching the rain and thought of how Nikolai had slept with me in bed every night since that first time. And every time he did, I pretended to be sleeping, but it was impossible to sleep through him wrapping his body around mine. We never had conversations because he never started one and I was getting good at feigning sleep, but I had learned a lot about him, like the fact that he snored. And he talked in his sleepsometimes too—random things and violent things. And once, he was mumbling nonsense in a frightened tone.

But he forced me to have dinners with him in his dining room, and twice since that first night when I locked myself in the bathroom, he'd brought up the idea of my marrying him again. It sickened me, and I told him no, but I got the sense he wasn't asking. He was telling.

The rain started to let up a little, and I heard a car door shut out front, but I didn't get up to see who had arrived. Then the bedroom door opened again but it wasn't Anya this time. It was Vlad, standing in the doorway with his shoulders squared. After so long of living around here, I was finally starting to learn all their names, and Vlad was the one I felt most comfortable with. That didn't mean I liked him.

"Boss wants you downstairs," Vlad rumbled, but I didn't move from my perch and I let my eyes shift back to the window.

"Tell him I'm busy."

"He's not asking. He's telling." Vlad stalked a few steps into the room and I looked up at him. I considered telling him exactly where his boss could shove his request, but there was something different about the way he was standing there. He looked stiff, almost uncomfortable, like whatever was waiting for me downstairs wasn't the usual dinner summons.

I would always get sick of being ordered around, but fighting him would only make things worse. I'd end up being carried down there or tied up or something. Or worse—if Niko came up here to get me, I'd have to deal with his nasty attitude and he'd get handsy with me again. Which only ended up turning me on instead of making me mad at him.

In order to preserve my dignity, I uncurled myself from the foot of the bed and followed him out. The jeans felt strange after weeks of wearing nothing but Niko's boxers, and the sweater was a little too warm. I felt myself starting to sweat as I followed the guard down the stairs.

But Vlad didn't take me toward the dining room. He turned left at the bottom of the staircase and led me down the hallway toward the back of the house, past the kitchen, to a room I'd never been inside, where he opened the door and stepped aside and I walked in.

Niko stood behind a desk wearing a dark suit, with his hair combed back, and a bright blue tie. He was devastatingly handsome, and it made my stomach drop before I even registered the other man in the room.

He was older, maybe sixty, with thinning gray hair and a less fancy dark suit that was faded at the elbows. He held a small leather-bound book in his hands and had a sadness in his eyes, which I felt was directed at me for some reason. I felt confused as my eyes traveled from the older man's face to Niko's.

"Kira," Niko said. "This is Father Albert. He's a friend of mine."

My brain connected those dots so fast, I felt the blood drain from my face and my ears started to ring. There was no way in hell I was letting this happen. I turned and started to walk away, but Vlad was planted in my path toward the door, glaring at me.

"No."

"Kira—"

"Absolutely not. No. You're insane." My hands were up as I spun around, glaring at Nikolai with all the hatred I could muster.

He came around the desk, and I backed up until I hit a bookshelf and was forced to stop. He stopped a few feet from me and put his hands in his pockets like we were having a casual conversation.

"Kira, this is happening today," he said calmly. "It's already been arranged."

"I won't do it. You can't force me to marry you," I blurted out, frantically looking to Vlad or this priest for help. But Vlad might as well have been a statue, and the priest's head hung. He clearly knew this was wrong but had no choice either. Maybe Nikolai had threatened him or something.

"I can and you will…" When Nikolai reached for me, I jerked out of his way, not allowing him to get ahold of me. "I need you to cooperate."

"Fuck you," I hissed, but this time when he reached out for me, I couldn't dodge him. What I did do was double my fist and punch him in the gut, which was futile. His abs were rock hard and I was weak from not eating. He wrangled me over to the center of the room by his desk and nodded at Vlad.

When I saw the gun come out, I reeled around and glared at Nikolai in sheer terror.

"You wouldn't," I said to Niko, but my voice came out as a squeak.

"I don't want to. I'd rather you just saw things my way. But one way or another, this is happening."

Father Albert was staring at the floor and I could see his discomfort. He knew this was wrong. Everyone in this room knew it was wrong, and they were going to do it anyway.

"It won't hold up," I said desperately. "No court will recognize a marriage performed under duress."

"Oh, I have credible witnesses, right, Albert?" Nikolai's words made the priest's head rise and he nodded in agreement.

My battle with emotion was lost and the tears spilled down my cheeks. I wiped them away angrily with the sleeve of my sweater, but more kept coming. I felt so powerless, so completely and utterly trapped, and worse than that, I felt abandoned by my own blood. My father wasn’t even trying to save me from this. He had all but given me to Nikolai, so it didn’t matter where I looked for help. There was none.

Father Albert spoke to Nikolai more than me, talking quietly but hastily, like he'd been paid to truncate the entire ceremony. There was no warmth or compassion in any of his words or his tone, and twice I tried to turn and barge out but was quickly reminded of Vlad and his gun pointed at me.