He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “No. Before then.”

“When?”

“I attended one of your shows. Your parents were still alive. I saw you right then and there and knew I needed to have you.” He looks at me. “Now, you’re mine.”

“Not yet,” I blurt out.

The darkness in his eyes frightens me and yet excites me at the same time. “We’ll be married as soon as we get to Russia. Well, after I buy you an appropriate wedding dress. And then, you’ll be mine.” He turns his eyes back to the road but places his hand on my thigh. It’s so much more erotic than when Boris touched me on the knee.

I hold still, waiting to see what Mikhail will do, but he doesn’t do anything. He just keeps his hand there. My thigh. So close to another part of my body. My legs are clamped shut, both in fear and arousal. I don’t understand the reaction Mikhail stirs within my body. It’s unnatural. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.

Not for a man I don’t know. Not for a man who could hurt me and never face the consequences of it.

“What if I won’t be ready to be in your …” I gulp. “Bedroom?”

He tightens his hand just slightly on my thigh. “I won’t force you, Sofiya. But I expect certain things. And I want to show you the pleasure you can get from a man’s touch. From my touch.” He lets go of my thigh and skims his fingers down to my knee and back up, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. “I won’t be easy on you. I take what I want, and what I want is you.”

I don’t think my lungs are working properly. I can’t get air into my body. Everything feels woozy.

“Be gentle with me?” I whisper.

A smirk crosses Mikhail’s lips. He doesn’t even look at me as he responds. “I’m not a gentle man.”

I want to ask more questions, but I’m too scared. What exactly does Mikhail want to do to me? Obviously, sex. I’m not that naive. But I feel like there’s more he’s not saying.

“What if I can’t give you what you want?” I force myself to say.

“You will. I know you will.”

Mikhail’s confidence is astounding because I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out in his car at any moment.

I don’t say anything more as we drive to the airport. I don’t think I can speak even if I wanted to.

MILA

Vik and I go home after she’s discharged from the hospital. I’m glad to see she’s able to use crutches to get around. A bedridden Vik would not have been a fun thing to deal with.

“I’ll get your pillows all set for you,” I say as I help Vik up the stairs to her room. “If you need anything, just let me know. I’m here to take care of you.”

“I can walk on my own, Mila,” Vik grumbles, pulling away from me. She’s slow going on her crutches but still somehow manages to look graceful—something I’ve seriously lacked. My father always thought it was cute how I would stumble around, but I can still stumble, even though I’ve become sturdier since I began ballet.

“Here you go,” I say, pulling back the covers of her bed so she can get in. “I can bring you some food. Do you want food?”

“Mila, it’s almost midnight. I’m tired. I just want to sleep. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I say sadly before leaving Vik’s room. I take a moment to lean against the wall. Vik doesn’t need my help, and Sofiya is gone. I wonder if she’s in Russia yet with her scary, new husband.

I’ve always dreamed of my wedding. I can picture my prince charming—tan and blond with a sweet smile. My heart melts at the thought.

The doorbell rings.

Strange. Who would be visiting so late at night?

I walk downstairs and peer through the peephole. It’s Boris.

I open the door but make sure to keep it partly closed. “Hello.”

“Mila, hello! I wanted to talk with you about something.”

“Oh. Well, let me just go get my sister.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He leans in closer to me, and I sway back slightly. “What I want to talk about is between you and me.”

“What?”

He grabs a gun from his jacket and points it at my head. “You and me—we’re going to get married.”

I’m frozen. Sofiya told me to stay away from Boris, but I never thought he’d try something like this.

The sad part is, all I can think about is that Boris is nothing like the prince charming of my dreams. The image of my prince charming is already shrinking as I stare down the barrel of Boris’s gun.

SOFIYA

Mikhail takes us to a private airstrip where a private jet is waiting to take me to Russia.

“That’s a large plane,” I say. I feel dumb, but Mikhail seems pleased. He gets out of the car and comes around my side to open my door. He offers me his hand.

Mikhail guides me onto the plane, which is decorated in creams and browns. It’s only us two, a flight attendant, and the pilot. “This is Elizabeth,” he tells me, nodding at the flight attendant. “And the pilot is Thomas.”

Before I can say hello, Mikhail walks me toward the back of the plane and into a seat. “More privacy back here.” He says it as if it’s a good thing, but I’m not sure I want more privacy. I’m a little worried Mikhail will try something with me once we’re alone.

But he doesn’t. In fact, he picks up a book on the seat next to him and starts reading. We’re across from each other. Our knees slightly touch. I keep trying to angle away from him, but every time I do, he finds a way to make our legs touch again. I have nothing to do to pass the time, and Mikhail seems intent on ignoring me.

I look outside as the plane takes off, and then we’re in the air, leaving New York behind. I keep my eyes on the tiny scraps of New York until I can’t see it at all anymore. It’s just the night sky and stars.

“I need to use the restroom,” I whisper to Mikhail. I have no idea why I’m whispering. We’re the only two people on the plane.

He nods without looking up from his book.

The moment I’m alone in the tiny restroom, I feel like I can breathe again. How am I going to get out of this? Everything feels so out of my control. Mikhail wants me, so I’m his now. I never got any say.

And now that I’m heading to Russia, I’ll have even less say.

I step out of the restroom and bump into Elizabeth. “Sorry,” I say.

“It’s all right.” She looks me up and down and sniffs. “You’re pretty.”

“Uh, thank you.”