The photographer laughed. “With how much you’re paying me, I’m motivated enough to do it all in a few minutes.”
We change clothes and hair between shots, which is when Theo gets the most upset. It is hard to convince him to get dressed once every day, so costume changes aren’t going well. He breaks down between every shoot and has to be tickled into happy tears by Viktor before we continue.
Finally, however, we are done with the family shots and the photographer’s assistant takes Theo to a play area in the middle of the room. Of course, they’ve prepared for the likely possibility that kids will need to be occupied during the photo shoots. While he is busy, Viktor and I are sent into back rooms to change into our final outfits.
The wedding dress Viktor got for me is the same silhouette as the one I wore on our actual (fake) wedding day, but one hundred times more extravagant. Bits of crystal are stitched all across a lacy material, and it hangs from my body like it was made specifically for me. The only difference is that the plunging neckline shows a bit more of my cleavage now that my breasts are larger due to pregnancy hormones. So, when I step out of the room and find Viktor standing in the hallway, his eyes go wide when he sees me.
I can feel his gaze like a physical touch, but I’m too busy devouring the sight of him in his navy-blue suit and crisp white shirt to feel flushed or embarrassed. All I feel is a bottomless kind of warmth deep in my stomach. He looks incredible.
“Beautiful,” Viktor whispers, holding out his hand. When I grab it, his fingers whisper over my skin like I’m something precious, and in this moment, I do feel precious. Cherished.
The photographer selects a set with fake flowers dripping from an archway and a pale pink sunset in the background. It feels like the background you’d stand in front of for cruise ship photos, but I am too focused on Viktor to care at all.
There are pictures taken of us holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. Pictures of Viktor standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my body. He presses his palms against my stomach, caressing me and our unborn baby in a way that, no matter what happens, I’ll always treasure.
Then, before I can react, Viktor spins me around and dips me backwards. I let out a yelp, but it is lost when his lips press over mine, stealing my breath. My hand holding the bouquet drops back, limp, as my ability to move my own limbs is kissed out of me.
He nibbles my lower lip and tilts his mouth against mine in a way that is intimate and private and sensual … except, it isn’t.
After a while, the photographer clears his throat, and Viktor pulls away from me. I curl my free hand in his hair to keep him close, and he laughs, his breath warm over my mouth. “I think we got carried away.”
“Carry me away,” I say, giving him permission. “Far away. Right now.”
“Family shots,” the photographer says, clapping his hands and clearing away the sensual haze that had me almost letting Viktor ravage me in front of a camera. “You two look too good not to have the little guy in there with you.
Theo had on a pair of gray pants and suspenders for the last shot, so they are able to help him shrug on a small jacket and have him ready for these family shots.
“Go stand with your dad,” the photographer says.
Viktor opens his mouth to correct him. We’ve never formally discussed his role in Theo’s life, and we’ve certainly never told Theo Viktor is his dad. But before Viktor can say anything, Theo runs straight towards him, arms outstretched. When Viktor scoops him up, Theo yells, “Dada!”
I see the stunned joy on Viktor’s face, and I’m sure my expression is much the same.
Viktor kisses his cheek and then wraps his arm around me.
“This feels real,” Viktor says, repeating my words from our argument the other day. Then, he says it again, squeezing me closer to him. “This feels real.”
I’m still swimming in the confusing feelings and joy and desire inside of me when there is a loud banging noise from the front of the studio.
The photographer frowns and turns towards the sound. I’m so wrapped up in my little family and the illusion of us standing in front of the fake backgrounds that I don’t turn towards the noise until the banging happens again, this time closer.
I look at the double front doors just as they burst open and a group of black-clad men comes pouring through them.
Instinctively, I reach for Theo. He is in Viktor’s arms, but Viktor gives him to me immediately, and then moves to stand in front of both of us, his arms outstretched.
“What—?” the photographer asks, backing away slowly. When he notices the men have guns, he turns and full-on sprints across the studio and behind the fake carousel. I don’t blame him. I’m tempted to do the same, but I know these men are here for us.
The men rush forward, guns first, and surround us. Each of the ten weapons that I can count is pointed directly at Viktor. At us. I know Viktor has a weapon strapped to his side, but it isn’t enough to take on ten or more men. And I’m sure Viktor would have had guards keeping watch outside, but they’ve apparently been overpowered as well, otherwise there would have been more of a fight out front.
“Who are you?” Viktor growls. We are outnumbered and outmatched, but his deep voice still sends goose bumps down my arms. It sounds like the voice of death himself. “What do you want?”
“Easy, brother.”
Viktor stiffens at the voice, and I recognize it immediately.
Fedor.
I peek around Viktor’s arm while trying to keep Theo hidden from view. Surely, Fedor knows Theo is here. That is why he is here at all, after all. For Theo. Still, I don’t want him to lay a hand or his eyes on my son. On Viktor’s son.
“Nobody needs to get hurt,” Fedor says. He lifts his hands as though he is the rational one. As though he is trying to keep the situation from escalating, like he didn’t just barge into the room with a small army.
“Nobody will get hurt,” Viktor says. “Leave. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Haven’t you learned by now, Vik? I can be wherever I want.” Fedor folds his hands behind his back and begins pacing back and forth. He looks thinner than the last time I saw him. His cheeks are sunken in and there are dark circles under his eyes. If anything, he looks more dangerous than before. It is obvious his physical health is failing with his mental health, which only makes him more dangerous. He truly has nothing left to lose.
“Or, have you missed all of my little gifts?”
I wonder what he means, but I can tell Viktor understands. His shoulders lift defensively. “You’ve made your point clear. You are willing to destroy everything Dad and I built. And for what? Vengeance? Does it make you feel good to kill innocent men and ruin my front businesses?”
“It’s justice,” Fedor snaps, his top lip pulled back in a scowl. Immediately, he seems to regret his loss of control and smooths a hand down his button-down shirt. It is slim but still hangs from his small frame. “You’ve built yourself a pedestal to stand on. A place where you can feel powerful and in control. I’m simply trying to show you that a big throne makes an easy target.”
“What is this about?” Viktor sounds bored, but I can feel the tension behind his words. He is pulled taut, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. “Why are you here?”