Page 35 of Wicked Villain

Good. I don’t think she’d take too kindly to finding me looking through her work.

I stare at her and strangely find myself wondering what mysteries lie within her pretty little mind.

Maybe she’s dreaming up all the ways she can kill me.

Can’t blame her. I’d be doing the same if I were in her shoes.

Death is the only way out of this. For me. But for her, too.

I won’t release her from that contract until I feel vengeance is served.

And that just might be never.

Chapter

Eight

Allegra

My heart is pounding in my throat again.

Thump, thump, thump.

Thump, thump, thump.

Any moment now, it might explode.

It’s Doomsday.

Within the next hour, I’ll become Allegra Karsavin.

No. Correction—Gabrielle Karsavin.

I wonder… Could I claim that I technically didn’t marry Lev because I’m not my sister?

Not likely. Maybe just in my head, which I suppose is some comfort. But… not really.

My wedding dress is gorgeous. I’m wearing the same one my father had made for me to marry Danillo. Today, we’re just swapping out the groom and the venue.

Instead of the Catholic church where my parents got married, I’m at one of the Karsavin family’s private estates in Millbrook.

Like Lev’s home, the place reflects the enormous family wealth, making everything Papa owns look like nothing.

I’ll see him and Mama in a few minutes. That’s one good thing I’ve been looking forward to.

I’ve been waiting in this room for about ten minutes. Once I was ready, Zoya brought me here. She’s still running cold toward me, but I was grateful when she gave me this time to myself. All morning, I’ve had people around me, breathing down my neck as they prepped me to be the perfect bride. I don’t know why they were bothered with such a fuss, or why Lev was even going through with the whole wedding ordeal.

It would have been more fitting if we’d gotten married Vegas style, or something as basic as a registry office.

It doesn’t matter. That’s the least of my worries.

With the sheer number of things on my mind, I’m surprised I even slept last night. I fell asleep by the window.

I was determined not to sleep in that bed again. I woke with a stiff neck, but at least I’d drifted off somewhere of my own choosing. And I wasn’t drugged.

Once I was allowed to go back up to the room, I got dressed for bed and I drew. Drawing for me has always been better than therapy, even before I needed it.

I draw to escape and ground myself. Sometimes I allow myself to get so lost in my art it hurts when I have to bring my mind back to reality.