This was … humiliating.

A week married and my husband couldn’t even be bothered to stand with me. Not that it came as any surprise. I wasn’t beautiful. All my life I’d been told I was the ugly one. The ugly, fat sister no one wanted. I had long, brown hair, the tips of which touched the curve of my ass, which again was another issue. I had a weight problem. On a good day, I fit into a size eighteen. I had huge tits, massive hips, a somewhat slender stomach in comparison, and chunky thighs. Even when I dieted and exercised, the curves stayed. It was something I had to live with.

Was it polite to fold my arms across my chest?

It was so hard to not show boredom when that was exactly what I was.

When the woman, whoever she was, seemed to be kissing my husband’s neck, I’d had enough of the spectacle and decided to make my way outside. The doors were wide open, and the moment I was out in the fresh air, I took a deep, calming breath.

Tilting my head up to the sky, I saw it was a clear night, which explained the cold. The chill made me realize I was very much alive. Not a single part of me was dead, even though people seemed to pray for my death.

The idea of my marriage being a peace treaty was so fucking lame and stupid. They thought it was going to bring peace. The truth was it now made more people hate me because they couldn’t continue their bloodshed.

“It’s a nice night out, isn’t it?”

The deep rumble of a voice startled me, and I turned around to see none other than Ivan Volkov smoking a cigarette in the shadowed corner, slightly hidden away by the door. I hadn’t known anyone else was out here.

“Do you speak?”

“Y-yes, sorry. You startled me.”

He chuckled. “The party is not to your liking?”

I quickly glanced at the doors. Everything was an act of survival now. If I said the wrong thing, he’d kill me. If he wanted some entertainment with my screams, he’d kill me. There was no way to win.

“It’s wonderful.”

“And yet you escape to the cold outdoors.” He tutted. His accent was rather nice.

“I just needed some air.”

“Oh, please, I saw you in there.” He chuckled. “I would have thought Slavik would have known better by now.”

Crap! Was I going to get my husband in trouble? Did I care? He had another woman hanging off his arm. Girlfriends, mistresses, they weren’t exactly unheard of in our circles. For many, it meant the husbands had other places to go for them to sate their appetite. For others, they were a pest and destroyers of loving relationships.

Love.

I didn’t have love.

“He’s perfect,” I said. Internally, I cringed. I’d long ago developed the mask I wore now. Passive verging on submissive. They didn’t know I had my thoughts. How I spoke my own mind. Staring at Ivan, though, I didn’t like how he looked at me. It took every single ounce of control not to react.