Till Death Saves Me (Forced Mafia Marriages)

4. Ginny

4

GINNY

I scan the opulent ballroom, my eyes darting from one unfamiliar face to another. The chandelier's light catches on diamond necklaces and gold watches, a dazzling display of wealth and power. But beneath the glitter, I sense an undercurrent of danger.

"Mrs. Kozlov, congratulations," a heavyset man with a thick accent says, grasping my hand. His meaty fingers linger too long, and I fight the urge to pull away.

"Thank you," I manage, forcing a smile that feels brittle on my face.

As soon as he moves on, another takes his place. And another. And another. Each greeting, each false smile, each thinly veiled threat disguised as a compliment chips away at my composure.

I catch sight of Ivan across the room, effortlessly charming a group of men I vaguely recognize from my father's business dealings. His easy confidence only serves to highlight how out of place I feel.

The air grows thick, stifling. Sweat prickles along my spine, dampening the delicate lace of my wedding gown. My chest tightens, each breath becoming more labored than the last.

I need to get out. Now.

My eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape. There—a small door partially hidden behind a thick velvet curtain. Heart pounding, I wait for a lull in the constant stream of well-wishers.

When it comes, I don't hesitate. I slip away from the crowd, my steps quick but measured. Can't draw attention. Can't let them see how desperately I need to flee.

The click of my heels on the marble floor seems deafening. Surely someone will notice. Surely Ivan will materialize, his strong hand clamping down on my arm, dragging me back to play my part in this farce.

But no one stops me. I reach the curtain, my fingers trembling as I push it aside. The door handle is cool beneath my palm. I turn it, praying it's not locked.

It gives way, but I don't get the chance to step through.

I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat as Ivan's hand closes around my arm. His touch sends an electricity shooting through me, a mix of fear and something else I don't want to examine too closely.

"And where do you think you're going, Virginia?" His voice is low, meant only for my ears.

I turn slowly, meeting his piercing gaze. The usual coldness is there, but there's something else, too. A flicker of... understanding?

"I... I just needed some air," I stammer, hating how weak I sound. "It's a bit overwhelming in there."

Ivan's eyes narrow, searching my face. I expect him to drag me back inside, to berate me for abandoning our guests. Instead, he releases my arm and takes a step back.

"Five minutes," he says, his tone clipped. "Then you return to the ballroom. Understood?"

I blink, caught off guard by his unexpected allowance. "Yes, of course."

He nods once, then turns to stand guard by the door. I hesitate for a moment before slipping outside.

The cool night air hits my heated skin, and I take a deep, shuddering breath. The garden stretches out before me, a dark oasis away from the glittering chaos inside. I move further from the house, desperate to put some distance between myself and the suffocating reality of my new life.

But Ivan's presence lingers, a palpable weight even out here. His momentary flash of empathy replays in my mind. It doesn't erase years of contempt, but it cracks the image I've built of him as a heartless monster.

I close my eyes, willing my racing thoughts to slow. When I open them again, I'm startled to find Ivan standing beside me.

"Your five minutes are up," he says, his voice softer than I've ever heard it. "Let's get back inside, Virginia."

I turn to face Ivan, squaring my shoulders despite the tremor in my hands. "You can call me Ginny." He stares at me like he has no clue what I'm talking about, so I add, "Ginny. Not Virginia."

Ivan raises an eyebrow. "Your name is Virginia. That's what's on our marriage certificate, and that's what I'll call you."

His dismissive tone ignites a spark of defiance in my chest. "Everyone calls me Ginny. It's not a difficult request."

"I'm not everyone," Ivan says, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "You'd do well to remember that, Virginia."

The way he emphasizes my full name sends a chill down my spine. It's a reminder of his control, of how little say I have in this arrangement.

"Look," I try again, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I understand there's a lot about this... situation that we can't change. But surely something as simple as my name-"

"Enough." Ivan cuts me off, his patience clearly wearing thin. "This discussion is over. You will answer to Virginia, and that's final."

I open my mouth to argue further, but the cold steel in his gaze stops me short. This isn't a battle I can win, at least not tonight.

"Fine," I concede, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "If that's how you want to play it... Ivan."

A muscle twitches in his cheek at my pointed use of his name, albeit it's what he goes by so it doesn't really land like I wish I did, but he doesn't rise to the bait. Instead, he gestures towards the ballroom door.

"Our guests are waiting," he says, his tone brooking no further argument. "Let's not keep them any longer."

As I move past him, head held high despite the sting of defeat, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the first of many battles to come. And if Ivan thinks I'll roll over and play the docile wife, he's in for a rude awakening.

I stiffen as Ivan's hand presses against my lower back, his touch both commanding and oddly gentle. The warmth of his palm seeps through the delicate fabric of my wedding dress, sending an unwelcome heat through my body. My breath catches in my throat, and I silently curse my body's betrayal.

"Ready to face the wolves again?" Ivan murmurs, his lips close to my ear.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way his low voice makes my skin prickle. "As I'll ever be," I manage, hating how breathless I sound.

We step back into the ballroom, the cacophony of voices and clinking glasses washing over us. Ivan's hand remains firmly on my back, steering me through the crowd. Each step brings a fresh wave of awareness - the heat of his touch, the solid presence of him beside me.

"Smile, Virginia," he commands softly. "You look like you're headed to your execution."

I plaster on a fake smile, gritting my teeth behind it. "Feels like it," I mutter.

Ivan's fingers flex against my spine, a subtle warning. "Play your part," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

We stop to chat with a group of Ivan's associates, their eyes gleaming with barely concealed interest as they look me over. I force myself to laugh at their jokes, to nod and smile in all the right places. All the while, Ivan's hand remains on my back, a constant reminder of my new reality.

As we move on to the next group, I can't help but notice how effortlessly Ivan navigates these social waters. He's charming and confident, his smile never wavering. It's a stark contrast to the cold, dismissive man I've known for years.

"Not letting me out of your sight?" I say through clenched teeth as he keeps pushing me.

A smirk — a real fucking smirk — plays on his lips. "Not a chance."

I hate how much I'm noticing about him tonight. The strong line of his jaw, the way his suit fits his broad shoulders perfectly, the subtle scent of his cologne. It's like my senses have gone into overdrive, hyper-aware of every little detail.

As we make our way through another round of congratulations, Ivan leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. "I know this isn't ideal," he says, and his voice is softer than I've ever heard it. It's still gruff, but I can admit he's trying. "I know this isn't easy for you. It's not exactly a walk in the park for me either."

I blink, caught off guard by this unexpected show of... what? Empathy? Understanding?

He continues, pulling me back until my back hits his front and it looks intimate. Like we are playing the part of husband and wife so well. "I want you to understand something. Our marriage had to happen. That doesn't mean you'll be miserable. I'll uphold my bargain and keep you safe, provided for, and you'll give me sons."

I'm stunned. I hadn't really thought about it, but I had to sleep with this man. Oh fuck.

"But escape isn't an option. Not for you, not for me. We're in this together now, regardless of our personal feelings." His voice carries a note of shared burden, a weariness I've never noticed before.

I swallow hard, unsure how to respond. This glimpse of vulnerability from Ivan throws me off balance. It's so at odds with the cold, dismissive man I thought I knew.

"I... I understand," I manage, giving him a stiff nod.

His hand, now resting on my hip, gives a gentle squeeze. The gesture, meant to be reassuring, only makes my body jolt.

I may be a virgin but I'm not a fucking nun. And my husband…he is too fine. The anxiety of this whole wedding has already worked me up, and I can't stop the bloom of heat that spreads through my body as the lust creeps in.

I swallow it back, though. He said he won't make me miserable. But he doesn't want this. I can't let my mind get confused. This is an arranged marriage.

One I'm just trying to survive.