Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
It doesn’t.
“He just wanted someone who’d take care of you,” she says softly. “This guy? He will.”
I nod stiffly. “Worked out well for you, didn’t it?” Her marriage to my brother.
She brushes the hair from my eyes, leans in, and kisses my temple. The gesture is small but sincere. “Yes, sweetheart. It did. It can work out, you know,” she continues, coaxing. “Especially when someone’s married to the likes of you.”
“I’ve seen it not work out,” I counter, needing to argue. To push back, just a little. To remind her that this isn’t all hearts and flowers.
Because yes, I’ve been crying. And maybe, just maybe, she’s right about why. She wouldn’t be that far off.
But she can’t know the real reason. No one can.
“All right,” she says gently, shifting back to business. “Your brother said it’s time to get this over with.”
So it’s an early wedding. He didn’t want me to have to sit with it or dwell. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? I have these little eye masks you can wear to bring down the puffiness.”
She offers me a soft smile. “All those sleepless nights with babies, I swear by these.”
We stand as she helps me to my feet, our fingers linking briefly. I do look pretty, I’ll admit that much.
And I’m glad. I don’t want to walk in there looking like a forgotten orphan.
“Look at you,” she says with a smile that feels like sunshine. “So beautiful. My god, this dress.”
It is beautiful, sleek and elegant in its simplicity.
She shakes her head slowly, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I absolutely love it. All right, show me your shoes.”
I lift my skirt just enough to reveal the rounded toe of my pearly slippers.
“Oh, they’re so pretty. Everything’s beautiful, Zoya. You’re a gorgeous bride.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“All right,” she says. “I’m going downstairs to appease your brother. He’s pacing a hole into the rug. I’ll tell him you’re getting ready and that you’ll be down soon. Do you want anything to eat? Drink?”
“I’m good.”
She smiles again. “All right. Twenty minutes, okay?” I nod.
“Okay. Thank you,” I say, looking away. There’s a lump in my throat that won’t go down. I stare at my vacant window.
She’s right. Maybe, just maybe, there’ll be something there to like. Something waiting for me.
I’m told he has a beautiful home. I haven’t seen it yet. And honestly? I don’t want to.
My gaze spins toward the window, irrationally hoping Seamus might materialize there like a phantom. He left last night. So why do I think he might come back?
He said I betrayed him. And I did—I read those texts, and I accused him of conspiring with a murderer.
What would I even do if he showed up? He didn’t come for me.
I’m here, alone.
Polina comes back, a tray in her hands with ice water and some small snacks. “Try to eat something,” she says, setting the tray down gently, her eyes full of concern.
She sits across from me.
“Can I ask you a question, Polina? Or… if I do, do you have to report everything back to Rafail?”
Her expression softens, lips curving in a knowing way. “Girls can have some secrets,” she says, lifting her chin and meeting my gaze. “What’s your question?”
Can I trust her?
I swallow hard, nerves prickling my skin. “What do you know about The Undertaker? The Irish—”
“Oh, I know who you’re talking about.” Her whole face changes. She bites her lip, turns away from me, troubled. “Why do you ask that?” she says quietly.
“Because I overheard you all that night. In the kitchen. After the bar.”
“Of course I remember,” she says. “Now why are you asking about The Undertaker?” She gently adjusts a pin in my hair.
I watch her in the mirror as she smooths one curl and straightens out the other, methodical, careful. Her fingers work fast, and she pins them in place like she’s done it a thousand times before.
“I’ve heard a lot of people talk about him,” I go on, a little too calmly. “But I want to know what he’s really like. Will you tell me? Please?”
She exhales slowly, like she’s been holding something in for a while. “I can only tell you what I know, darling,” she says gently. “And I know that one of the reasons Rafail is marrying you is because The Undertaker told Semyon he was coming for his sister.”
Her voice drops to a hush. “And we assumed,” she says, “that the sister he meant was you.”
I blink. Of course.
Yana is already married. There are no other sisters. Who else could he have meant?
“He said he was coming for me? Why didn’t anyone ever mention that? That’s… strange.”
What does Seamus think about that?
“Right,” she says with a sigh. “And Rafail didn’t want to risk that happening. The Undertaker… the things they’ve said about him. He… he can disappear in a crowd, but you feel him. They say he once made a man confess his sins just by folding his coat in front of him.”