Chapter 5

Elena

Is this a dream or a nightmare? I grasp Uncle Yuriy’s elbow tighter as I take the first step toward the altar. My throat is dry, and my heartbeat is so loud I can barely hear the sound of music and the whispers of the guests. I don’t know if it’s fear, anger, or excitement that fills me from within, but the combination is so overwhelming I can barely breathe.

God, I can’t pass out. Not now.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment, relying on Yuriy to guide me forward. My feet are so heavy I can barely move—but I force myself to walk there. Closer to him.

Damn it. I didn’t know that just seeing Riccardo again would affect me so much. Does he feel the same? Of course not—but I involuntarily open my eyes to see his reaction. Does he remember me at all?

As always, Riccardo’s face is a mask of calm and arrogance—but it’s as gorgeous as ever. I can’t see him clearly through the veil covering my face, but I can feel his stare in my bones. He doesn’t move and simply watches us as Yuriy and I linger by the edge of the altar.

“You’re gonna be a good girl, aren’t you?” Yuriy lowers his voice to ask me over the tender waves of violin and piano. I automatically look up at him and see that Yuriy is looking at me with a smile that sends chills down my spine. He’s not that scary at first glance—but it’s the knowledge of his power that makes me feel small in his presence.

I give him a nod, unable to move with the tension holding my body still. Yuriy smiles a little wider and pats my hand before turning to Riccardo. Their eyes meet, and a silent agreement passes between them as Yuriy nudges me to walk up to the altar.

I swallow and glance at Riccardo, gathering the fabric of my dress in cold fists. Step. Another step. It feels like my legs are frozen, but somehow I make my way up the altar without a single stutter. Only my breath doesn’t feel right, but I swallow it down and stand straight before my future husband.

For a moment, Riccardo and I simply look at each other through the thin fabric of my veil, and my heart slips into a frantic rhythm. I try to see the look in his eyes and find the answers to my questions. Does he remember me? Does he remember everything? I hold my breath despite myself while Riccardo raises his hands to my veil. Do I want him to remember?

I don’t know—but it doesn’t matter anymore. Because as soon as Riccardo lifts my veil, my heart drops. Our eyes finally meet, and I see it. I don’t know how, but I see that he knows me. He remembers me.

Oh, it’s gonna be one hell of a marriage.

“Dearly beloved, we have gathered here today, in the presence of God, to join Elena Pushkova and Riccardo Messina in holy matrimony. Despite and in celebration of our differences, we are here to share…”

The priest’s voice is muffled in my ears, reaching me like an echo from the distance, while my mind travels farther away from the present. My unfocused gaze drops to the waves of Riccardo’s black hair around his ears, his sharp cheekbones, the slight stubble on his jaw, and finally lingers on his neck.

I can’t find it in me to look him in the eyes right now. Everything about his appearance sends me back to the past—to my college years full of humiliation, misery, and heartache. All because of him.

***

“Elena! Elena, hurry up, he’s—here. Let’s go!” Rachel almost bumps into my desk, leaning on it and trying to catch her breath while I look up at her with a frown. What is she talking about? I’ve just come here to study for the biology test.

Rachel reads confusion in my eyes and groans, gesturing wildly.

“Riccardo! I saw him right there. They’re coming here.”

Oh. I blink and sit up straight. Shit. He’s supposed to have his soccer practice or whatever. What is he doing here?

I look around the classroom, trying to look calm with my heart jumping into a frantic pace. Damn it. There’s no one here except for a freshman, but what is he gonna do against the goddamn fratboy?

“Come on, Elena! You’re gonna get in trouble.”

Rachel grabs my shoulder to tug me toward the door, and I instinctively yank my arm back. Dad has taught me to never let others touch me without permission. Not that anyone would care about it in college.

Here, I’m not a princess of a Mafia family. I’m not a threat, not a fighter. I’m just nobody—at least, for most of them.

“Okay, I’m getting out of here.” Rachel crosses her arms and purses her lips, looking at me with worry and a plea. She doesn’t like it when I get hurt. “Are you coming?”

My gaze darts to the open door behind her. I hear the deep voices of Riccardo and his band laughing at someone, and a wave of adrenaline finally jolts me out of my stupor. God, what am I doing? Mom’s gonna be so mad if I show up with torn clothes again. She’s still not over the second place I took at the English olympiad last week.

“Okay, okay!”

“Finally! Hurry up.” Rachel raises her voice, running before me to the door and waving her hands for me to come closer. “I think they’re going to smoke, let’s go!”

I hastily throw all of my stuff into the bag and hurry after her, almost tripping over a chair and dropping a pen on the way. Shit. I glance at it but don’t stop. I can get a new one. I have to get out of here first. Rachel grabs my hand as soon as I reach her, and we both sneak into the hallway.

The echo of Paolo’s voice reaches me, and I lower my head and pick up my pace, grasping the straps of my bag tighter. My palms are sweaty, and my stomach is tight and aching from nerves. God, please. I really don’t want to—

“Oh, look there! Hey, baby, where are you going?”

Fuck. I feel Rachel’s hold on my hand tighten, and we both break into a run—but how can we beat the winners of every soccer competition in the state? We barely make it to the corner when I feel a sharp tug on my shoulder, a burst of pain in my back—and the next moment, I’m already pushed into a wall with Rachel’s yelp ringing from the side.

“Did you think you could run away like that?”