The least I can do is protect her from everything else she’ll have to face, living with a man like me.
As we drive the three-hour trip to Brighton Beach, I notice Cassie nodding off to sleep in the silence. I personally enjoy the quiet the trip affords, being used to the city noise and the thrum of clubs as I do my work, and I hope Cassie can take some solace in gathering her thoughts in relative privacy.
But the thought of what will happen when we reach my apartment keeps coming back to me. Cassie has curled up into the seat, sleeping gracefully with her arms wrapped around herself as she dozes.
I can’t deny that I desire her. Even as my impulse was to protect her, I desire her. But I know she expects me to take her as my property, to use her however I please the moment we step into the bedroom. With such an upbringing, it’s doubtful she was even told that she has the ability to say ‘no’ to such things.
So what will she think when we reach my home — our home? I think for a wild moment that I could just give her some money and send her on her own way, to be independent, but I realize that would only send her back home. She doesn’t know how to take care of herself out there.
I will have to be her protector, no matter what she desires.
Somehow, I feel a hint of warmth at the idea in my heart. I don’t know what her desires will be when we cross our marriage threshold, but that doesn’t change the fact that this lovely young woman is my responsibility, regardless of how I’d like to claim her as mine with all the hot-blooded passion she’s been able to stir up in my heart in such a short time.
What have I gotten myself into?
6
Cassie
The moon is high in the velvety black sky when I am gently prodded awake. At first, I am confused and disoriented, thinking that I must still be in my bed at home. Is it really six o’clock already? I have to hurry downstairs to start making eggs and sausage for Daddy and Isaiah, my mother must be annoyed with me for oversleeping...
I sit up with a jolt when it dawns on me where I actually am: the passenger seat of my new husband’s luxurious Corvette. I blink my bleary eyes rapidly, taking in my chrome and leather surroundings, my puffy white dress, my hair starting to fray loose from my French braid. There’s a hand on my shoulder, and for once it isn’t my father’s. It’s lighter, gentler, yet it still feels commanding. Maybe even more so, since it won’t leave a harsh bruise beneath my pale skin.
My eyes follow the hand up the arm to the broad shoulder of Andrei Petrov, the man I am now married to, forevermore, for better or for worse. I bite my lip and avert my gaze demurely, suddenly ashamed. I can’t believe I fell asleep in the car. On my wedding night. My father would be furious with me for being so rude.
“Sorry to wake you,” he says gruffly, a faint Russian accent sneaking through.
I shake my head and offer a weak smile, trying to remember that I must be a perfect wife and partner. I must be docile and sweet and pretty. No matter how frightened I am, it is of the utmost importance that I maintain my willing, humble service to my husband.
It’s what God intends for me.
“No, no, I am sorry for falling asleep. Couldn’t have been great conversation on the ride here, with me unconscious,” I reply, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“I’m glad you were able to get some rest. You may need it.”
My heart skips at his words. I suddenly feel very warm and tingly, a strange sensation tickling between my thighs. Curiosity tinged with fear works its way through my body. I don’t quite know exactly what he means, but I have an inkling that it might not be very wholesome.
Andrei gets out of the car and rushes to open my door before I even get the chance to reach for the lever. He offers a big, calloused hand and after a second’s hesitation, I gingerly place my tiny hand in his. The rough texture of his fingers wrapped around my smooth, pale hand sends a tremble down my back. He gently pulls me up out of the Corvette and guides me to the sidewalk. Looking around, it hits me that we are in the city.
Staring up at the massive brick building in front of us, I stammer, “Is th-this really where you live?” I can hear distant sirens and horns honking, even though it’s the middle of the night. Back home, everything is silent at night. In fact, even during the day I rarely ever heard anything but chirping birds and the sounds of children playing outside.
“Yes. I imagine it will be an adjustment for you,” Andrei replies simply.
I turn to look at him, more than a little fearful. “I’ve never been to the city before.”
He raises both eyebrows in genuine surprise as he holds open the lobby door for me and I walk through into a beautifully furnished lobby, with dark wood paneling and sleek black chairs and couches. “You’ve really never seen the city before?”