I watch her from the corner of my eye. Arms crossed tightly over her chest, hair still tousled from sleep, and defiance gleaming in those sharp irises of hers.
Not exactly how most women imagine their wedding day, but to me, she’s the epitome of perfection. My angry little viper of a bride.
She shifts beside me, just enough to put distance between our bodies, but not enough to stop me from feeling the heat radiating off her skin. I catch her ncing at the door, probably calcting if she can outrun my men.
Of course, she can’t. That would only dy the inevitable.
“I never dreamed of getting married,” she snaps, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Let alone in a mobster’s house, dressed like I just rolled out of bed.”
I bite back a smirk, taking her hand in mine. “You’ll make it up to me on our honeymoon.”
“You wish.” She tries to pull her fingers free, but I tighten my grip, not letting her go.
Not now. Not ever.
Dmitriughs under his breath, turning to Maksim. “Dayu tri dnya, prezhde chem ona yego zarejit.” I give it three days before she stabs him.
Maksim snickers. “Pozhaluysta. On prosto poprosit yeyo sdt’ eto snova, no medlenneye.” Please. He’d just ask her to do it again, but slower.
I shoot them a look, and those smirks vanish instantly.
“What?” Dmitri flips a hand in the air. “We’re just happy for you.”
Father Pasha clears his throat as he begins the ceremony.
“We are gathered here today under the eyes of God to witness the union of this man and this woman.” Each word is thick with a Russian ent as he continues the sacred lines.
I never saw myself getting married, but if I ever did, it would be to someone like Tessa—strong, smart, capable, and utterly breathtaking too.
She exhales. I can feel the tension in her fingers, the way her body fights every spoken word.
My blood drums with possession. This may not be real, but it’s ours, and I will remind her of our vows every chance I get. Because they mean something to me, no matter how we got here.
The priest continues guiding us through the vows. When he asks me if I take this woman to be mywfully wedded wife, I answer without hesitation.
“Da.” Yes.
Tessa says nothing at first. Then, after a long pause, she mutters, “I guess.”
Gripping her jaw, I turn her face to mine. “That’s not an answer.”
She lifts her chin, ferocious as ever. “Fine. Yes.”
“Good girl,” I whisper.
She grits her teeth. Her defiance is so beautiful.
When it’s time for the rings, my cousin passes me a box, and I slide the engagement ring first, arge five-carat round stone. She stares at it, the glistening diamond noparison to the beauty of her eyes.
“This is…nice.” She nces up at me, and my smirk curls as I slowly slip the tinum band onto her finger, covered in diamonds.
This doesn’t have to be pretend.
Her hand trembles slightly, but she doesn’t pull away, her eyes wild and searching as she stares up at me.
“By the power vested in me by the Orthodox Church and thews that govern our people…” the priest says. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then he adds, “You may kiss the bride.”
I don’t hesitate.
My hand wraps around the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair as I drag her mouth to mine. The kiss is brutal, possessive. An unspoken vow sealed in hunger and fire.
I kiss her like I own her soul, like every breath she’s ever taken has led her here, to this moment. To me.
Her lips soften beneath mine, and for the briefest second, I sense her surrender.
I pull back just enough to see the wreckage I’ve left behind. Her lips are swollen, stained a deeper red, pupils dted with confusion, rage, and something darker. Something that mirrors the chaos I feel every time I look at her.
This isn’t just the beginning of her end. It’s the start of a war.
And I’ll fight to keep her. No matter the consequences.<hr>
EMILIA
I don’t remember walking out of the den. One second, I’m standing beneath that chandelier with a priest dering me married, and the next, I’m moving through the halls like a ghost in my own life.
Mrs. Marinova.
The name sits in my gut like a stone I can’t swallow.
But now I’m his—at least until I can break free.
Konstantin walks beside me, a slow, confident stride as though he’s leading me to the life he’s already nned. His hand rests lightly at the small of my back, a reminder of how much power he has over me.
“You’ll get a tour tomorrow,” he says, as if we’ve just moved into our first home instead of me having been forced into this marriage. “I’ll introduce you to my staff. Show you the grounds. And you’re free to go wherever you like on the estate, of course. Unless I tell you otherwise.”
“And why would you do that?”
His eyes cut to me, a faint smirk pulling at his mouth. “Sometimes there are…things you don’t want to see. People you don’t want to hear scream.”
Of course. As if I could forget about my new husband’s murderous escapades.
Once we reach the master bedroom, he lets me inside, revealing a massive, ck-upholstered bed that dominates the room, the kind with an oversized headboard and a mattress that looks softer than clouds. The curtains are a muted gray, the walls a rich charcoal, and everything smells faintly of cedarwood.
My luggage is already there, sitting like a quiet threat in the corner.
“Wee to your new bed,” he says, as if it’s a gift.
I don’t answer. Instead, I grab my clothes and head for the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Though I know it wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted to get in.
Quickly changing into an oversized tee and a pair of shorts, I brace myself on the edge of the sink, breathing deep. I nce down at my left hand, therge engagement ring catching the light with every slight movement. The diamond sparkles, almost mocking me, its brilliance too much to ignore. I turn it slightly, watching the way the light bounces off its facets, feeling the weight of it on my finger. The wedding band, encrusted with diamonds, sits snug against it, like an anchor and a shackle all at once.
You just have to survive this.
But I know he won’t make it easy.
When I return to the bedroom, my thoughts scatter like ashes.
Konstantin’s shirt is gone, revealing a body sculpted with lean muscle, every inch of him hard and defined. His snake tattoos slither up his arms and down his rib cage, a reminder of the power he holds. His ck boxer briefs dip low on his hips, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
Of course, he notices.
A smile pulls at his mouth. “Don’t be shy. You can look. You can touch. I’m your husband now, after all.”
“I’d rather not,” I lie, swallowing thickly and walking to the opposite side of the mattress.
“Suit yourself.” He chuckles low in his chest.
His phone is on the nightstand on his side of the bed, and I know there’s no way I can do what I need tonight. He’d wonder why I ced my phone beside his when I have a nightstand on my side.
I slip beneath the covers, trying to ignore how soft the sheets are, how good the bed feels, how much I don’t hate being here. Turning away from him, I force my eyes closed, trying to make myself forget that he’s still here.
He flicks off themp, plunging the room into darkness just as the mattress dips behind me. Then a heavy, warm arm slides around my waist, and before I can stop him, Konstantin pulls me against his chest. His bare skin brushes my back, lips lowering to the curve of my neck as he kisses me there.
“I know you don’t trust me yet,” he whispers. “But you will.”
The words sink into my skin.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Marinova.”
I lie there, staring at nothing. His breath warms the back of my neck, his hand resting heavy on my stomach.
I should hate this. I should pull away. But I don’t want to.
Because this thing between us, whatever it is, is getting harder to fight. And the longer I stay in this bed, in this house, in his life, the harder it will be to let him go.