28
CORA
I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom and try my hardest to recognize the woman staring back at me.
The dress Alexander chose for me to wear tonight is a ruffled eyesore. I look like a pastel piñata. It’s really fitting, actually. They don’t physically hurt me, but I’m taking an emotional beating from every side.
I reach up and grab the gold locket around my neck. I squeeze the metal until it’s warm in my palm. I can’t tell where I stop and it begins.
Mikhail will look at it and think it’s the one he bought me. I was pleasantly surprised at how close of a dupe I was able to find at the random jewelry store we stopped off at after leaving the restaurant.
But the moment I got to my room, I hid Mikhail’s locket behind the loose piece of trim in my closet and swapped it with Ivan’s.
Wear this and I will always find you.
God, I hope he’s right.
I still have my hand wrapped around the necklace when my door explodes open. “Are you ready?” my stepfather barks.
I slowly drop the necklace and lower my hand. The last thing I want is to look guiltier than I already feel.
It’s hard because Alexander has been especially keyed-up today. He isn’t ever pleasant, but he’s been on the warpath all afternoon.
“Is anyone ever truly ready to meet their in-laws?” I drawl.
He jabs a finger at me. “None of that smart mouth at dinner. You smile. You nod. You look pretty.”
“Hard to do in this dress.”
His eyes narrow. “If you can’t handle—”
“Just getting it all out of my system.” I lower myself into a deep curtsy. “I’ll be on my best behavior, Master.”
He sneers and opens his mouth to say more. But before he can unleash his nerves on me, my mother moves behind him and places a hand on his shoulder.
“She knows what to do, Alex. It will all be okay.”
He shrugs her hand away. “I remember a similar sentiment the night before she ran away. Maybe you don’t know your daughter as well as you think you do.”
Alexander tosses one final glare in my direction before he storms into the hallway to snarl at the temporary staff he’s hired for the evening. He’s brought in at least ten new hires to fill out the decor. God forbid Konstantin Sokolov see that this house runs with only two permanent indentured servants.
“You really should try to cooperate, Cordelia,” my mother says softly.
I almost forgot she was standing in the doorway. I’ve gotten good at tuning her out. Survival instinct has me dividing everyone into friends or foes. Who is here to hurt me and who is here to help me? My mother is doing neither, so as far as I’m concerned, she might as well not exist.
“I’m in the dress. I’m going to dinner. I don’t know what more he wants from me.”
She sighs. “He’s stressed. If you could not talk back, then it would make things easier.”
“Easier for me or for you?”
A crease forms between her brows. She looks older than I remember. Like she’s aged ten years in the last three. “Why can’t it be both?”
“They’re here!” Alexander roars up the stairs at us. “Get down here. Now!”
She half-turns towards the command, but then stops and looks back at me, waiting.
I don’t let Alexander’s order rush me. I consider her question seriously. “Maybe it used to be possible. At one point, you and I could both benefit from the same outcome. But now… I can’t win if my enemy succeeds. And you’re with the enemy.”
She blinks like I physically hit her. Her mouth falls open. Before she can gather the words for whatever lie she is about to tell, I brush past her and head towards the stairwell.
If I’m going to make it through tonight, I need to focus my energy on the players that matter.
Just as I reach the foyer, my mother not far behind me, Alexander reaches for the doorknob. His eyes sharpen on me. One silent final warning to behave.
I take a deep breath as he pulls the door open.
Let the games begin.
* * *
Before the appetizers can even hit the table, Konstantin Sokolov has offended me in every way that matters.
“If things had happened like they ought to have,” Konstantin says, referring for the fifth time to me running away to avoid marrying his son, “then I wouldn’t be worried. But she’s past her prime. If we want healthy offspring, they need to get married and get started as soon as possible.”
Past my prime? I’m twenty-four, for fuck’s sake!
Then again, I don’t want to be in my prime. Not for Mikhail Sokolov. Not for being used as a breeding cow for his psychopath babies.
So I bite my tongue and drown the words. I wish I could literally drown them, but Alexander already silently warned me off of any more water. When the maid refilled my glass for the third time, Alexander glanced over and shook his head. But I think he’d rather I drink than say what is on my mind.
Which is that Konstantin Sokolov is going to need more than a woman in her prime to have sex with Mikhail if he wants grandchildren. Because as it is, one look at his mean, pasty son has me dryer than the Sahara. I can practically feel my ovaries shriveling up. Nine out of ten fertility doctors recommend against trying to reproduce with men you despise on a visceral, physical level.
“We announced the engagement today, but left the wedding date unspecified since the situation is… unfolding.” Mikhail looks down at me and I realize I am “the situation.”
“‘Unwilling’ is more like it,” I mutter.
No one seems to hear me because, right as I speak, the kitchen doors open. Four women I don’t recognize and one I do march out carrying baskets of bread and salads. There’s one server for each person at the table. Because that isn’t ostentatious and obnoxious in the least, right?
If Mikhail and Konstantin are impressed by Alexander’s show of wealth, they hide it well. Better yet, everyone is so focused on the food being placed in front of them that no one notices a small phone being dropped into my lap.
The young maid doesn’t look at me or signal to me in any way. She simply places my starter course on the table and then drapes a cloth napkin in my lap, discreetly covering the phone. Then, without breaking rank, she disappears into the kitchen with the others.
“That’s why we’re here,” Alexander says to the table. “To hammer out the details of our families becoming one. I’m sure we can handle that over four courses.”
Four more courses? I can’t sit here for four more courses! Not with this bomb in my lap.
My heart is thundering. I take a bite of bread, but it turns to cement in my dry mouth.
Is the phone from Ivan?
Or is it a trap?
Maybe Alexander and the Sokolovs are testing my commitment. Maybe they are testing me to see what I’ll do when presented with a way out. Will I take it or will I obey?
“I don’t want to wait four courses; I’ve waited long enough,” Konstantin says. “I don’t see what we’re doing with this dinner in the first place. It’s a waste of time. It should be a wedding rehearsal.”
“If we rush it, it looks like we’re scared,” Mikhail offers.
He looks down the table at me for only a moment. Does he know what’s hiding in my lap? He has to know. He can see right through me. He sees the terror burning under my skin.
Then I see it. The ghost of what he felt in the restaurant is written all over his face. The panic at seeing Ivan there. The fear that I am slipping through his fingers.
What would he think if he knew he’d never had me in his grasp in the first place?
Konstantin sighs. “I suppose. But the wedding should happen as soon as propriety allows.”
Alexander mulls over the thought. “We could fast track things a few weeks. The main concern would be the investment. Putting a rush on some of these things will be costly and the benefit I’m expected to get out of it—”
“The cost is of no concern to me,” Konstantin snaps.
Great. Glad we got that settled. Now that money isn’t a concern, maybe they can be concerned about the abduction and forced marriage.
I can’t even be bothered about that right now, though. Not with this cell phone of unknown origin burning a hole in my lap.
They ramble on, talking about wedding dates and optimal times for me to be impregnated, but I’m so distracted I can’t be as disgusted as I should be.
I need to get out of here.
I need to see what is on this phone.
I finish my salad in record time, shifting the phone towards the built-in pockets of my dress each time I reach down to wipe my fingers on the napkin. By the time the salad is gone, the phone is safely tucked away. The three glasses of water I chugged before the starters arrived are also sitting heavy in my bladder.
“Are there any hereditary conditions we should know about?” Konstantin asks. He looks at my mom, studying her. “Her mother looks fine enough, but what do you make of her father? Is he unwell? I don’t want to invite any disorders or diseases into our family line.”
Yes, what a shame it would be to tarnish their long history of sociopathy with a dose of sanity. Can’t have anyone with a conscience breaking into the fold.
“Our genes are strong enough that I’m not concerned.” Mikhail smirks. “Impregnating her won’t be a worry, but whether she can carry a Sokolov baby full term is. Sokolov mothers tend towards anemia. We suck our mothers dry, apparently.”
I want to throw up in my mouth. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with the entire family. They are all parasites. If I’m not careful, Mikhail will latch onto me.
Alexander laughs like Mikhail just said something funny. Like making a crack about how the women in the Sokolov family get ill and die while Alexander is actively marrying me into that family isn’t cause for concern.
I guess, for him, it isn’t.
“We can schedule a physical if you need, but there has never been anything out of the ordinary with Cordelia’s health. Has there, Evaline?”
My mother shakes her head. “No. She’s healthy as a horse.”
“I can pee like one, too,” I interrupt.
It’s the first time I’ve spoken the entire meal. All eyes turn to me. My mother’s face is bright red and Alexander looks livid.
Apparently, a sense of humor is not a welcome quality in a bride. Ah, well, nevertheless. He told me to be on my best behavior. This is the best I’ve got.
“I need to use the restroom,” I correct, my voice meek and dainty. “If you could all excuse me.”
The phone sits against my thigh like a brick. I feel the weight of it bringing my skirt down on the right hip. I shift that side away from the table as I slide out of my chair and make for the door.
“Cordelia.” Konstantin Sokolov’s voice rings out across the dining room. “Stop. Turn around.”
My heart gallops uncomfortably in my chest, but I turn slowly.
Oh, fuck.
I chose wrong. This was a test and I failed it. What comes next? How bad will it hurt?
Four sets of venomous eyes are locked on me. I can feel sweat dripping down my spine.
“Yes?” I croak through a dry throat.
Konstantin’s eyes narrow. His gaze sweeps me up and down slowly. Finally, he turns back to Alexander. “She’s too thin. See to it that you fix this before she carries a Sokolov.”
Relief mingles with disgust as they all turn their attention back to the table and each other, looking away as though I don’t even exist.
It’s a good thing. It means I can slip out of this room and to the bathroom with the contraband in tow without being noticed.
But it still makes me feel small. Insignificant.
I’m thin because humans don’t usually fare too well in captivity. We need joy and sunlight and hope to thrive. None of which are available in the McAllister household. And I have a feeling the Sokolov estate is even bleaker.
By the time I get to the bathroom, I’m shaking with adrenaline and fear and anger. So much anger.
At first, I wanted them all to ignore me. Now, the way they talk around me, planning my future, arranging when I’ll have children… It makes me sick.
I don’t know how much more of it I can take.
I take a moment to pee—I really did have to go after three cups of water—before I pull the phone out of my pocket and finally dare to look at it.
There’s a text message from an unknown number.
It’s me. Use this phone if you need it. I’m here.
Ivan. He smuggled a cell phone to me through another one of the maids. But he’s never felt farther away.
Before I can decide what to text back, there’s a knock on the door. I lock the screen and shove the phone in my pocket.
“Hello?” I call.
“Just checking on you,” my mother says softly through the door. “We’re waiting on you for the next course.”
I haven’t been gone for more than ninety seconds. Was she listening to my flow from the outside of the door? She finished peeing and flushed, so only twenty more seconds for washing hands, which means…
I want to cling to the promises Ivan has made me. I want to believe that he is coming for me and that this will all end.
But that’s hard when my world is no bigger than this beige half-bath. As much as I want to deny it, this feels like my future.
Not Ivan, but Mikhail.
Not hope, but hate.
Not love, but fear and pain and being forced to give birth to a new generation of people who will grow up in this toxic cycle and suck me dry from the womb and then drop-kick me into an early grave.
I blink back tears and open the bathroom door.