Captured by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #3)

Chapter Sixteen - Kirill

The day has arrived, and the church is a flurry of activity. The ornate decorations, the vibrant flowers, the soft hum of conversation—all set the stage for what is supposed to be a grand celebration. I stand on the stage, dressed in a sharp, black suit, waiting for my bride.

My men are scattered among the guests, their presence both a security measure and a statement of power. They’re all in high spirits, chatting and laughing, ready to welcome Violet into our world. On the other side, the bride’s side, the atmosphere is starkly different. There’s a palpable sense of discontent, especially from one particular individual— fucking Caleb.

Caleb stands near the front, his expression carefully blank. According to Violet, no one on her side is happy about this marriage. They don’t know it’s fake, and Caleb has been the most vocal opponent. The way he looks at Violet, the longing in his eyes, makes my blood boil. It’s clear he wants her, and the thought infuriates me. Even if this is a fake marriage, Violet is my bride now.

Caleb’s presence, however, is a thorn in my side. His disapproving glares and clenched fists only add to my irritation. He doesn’t understand the world she’s entering, the dangers she faces. Only I can keep her safe.

The music shifts, signaling the start of the ceremony. I straighten up, my gaze fixed on the entrance. The double doors open, and Violet appears, escorted by her reluctant grandmother. Caleb refused to walk her down the aisle himself, a small mercy.

She looks stunning, her white dress flowing gracefully around her. Her eyes, however, betray her nervousness. She glances around the room, taking in the mixed reactions.

As she walks down the aisle, my eyes remain locked on her. She’s walking into this with bravery, despite the fear I know she feels. I admire that about her. When she finally reaches the stage, she takes her place beside me. I offer her a small, reassuring smile, and she nods, her resolve strengthening.

The officiant begins the ceremony, his voice steady. I can feel Caleb’s gaze burning into me, his disapproval almost tangible. I want to punch that look off his face, but I restrain myself. This is not the time for such displays.

“Do you, Kirill Sharov, take Violet Harrison to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks, his voice echoing through the room.

“I do,” I reply firmly, my gaze never leaving Violet’s.

“Do you, Violet Harrison, take Kirill Sharov to be your lawfully wedded husband?” he continues.

Violet hesitates for a moment, then glances at me. I give her a slight nod, urging her on. “I do,” she says softly, voice wavering.

As the officiant declares us husband and wife, the room fills with applause from my side, while Violet’s side remains mostly silent. I turn to face Violet, my arm around her waist, feeling the tension between us. The moment has arrived to seal this union with a kiss.

I lean in slowly, our eyes locked. Her lips are soft and inviting, and for a moment, I let the kiss remain innocent, a gentle brush of our mouths. The electricity between us is undeniable, and I can feel the heat rising.

What starts as a simple, symbolic gesture quickly intensifies. I press my lips more firmly against hers, deepening the kiss. I feel her hesitate for a heartbeat, then she responds, her lips parting slightly. I take the opportunity to explore further, our breaths mingling as the kiss becomes more passionate.

The room around us fades away. All I can think about is the way her body feels against mine, the way she tastes, the soft sound of her breath catching as the kiss deepens. I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, and she leans into me, her fingers clutching the front of my suit.

Despite the circumstances, there’s a raw, undeniable connection between us. I can feel her desire matching my own, and it fuels the intensity of the moment.

After what feels like an eternity, I pull back, both of us breathless. I search her eyes for any sign of regret, but all I see is a mixture of confusion and desire. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips are slightly swollen from the kiss.

The applause grows louder, bringing us back to the reality of the situation. I turn to face the guests, my arm still around her waist. Caleb’s face is a mask of barely contained rage, but I push that aside. This moment is about Violet and me, fuck everybody else.

We make our way down the aisle, greeted by well-wishers and congratulations. My men slap me on the back, their smiles wide and genuine. They’re happy for me, happy for the alliance this marriage represents. Violet’s side offers polite, subdued congratulations, their discontent still evident.

Caleb approaches us, his jaw clenched. “Congratulations,” he says, his tone flat and forced.

“Thank you,” I reply, my grip on Violet tightening slightly. “I appreciate your support.”

His eyes flicker to Violet, then back to me. “I hope you understand what you’re getting into, Kirill,” he says, his voice low. “Violet deserves better than to be a pawn in your games.”

My anger flares, but I keep my expression neutral. “Violet is under my protection now. That’s all you need to know.”

Caleb’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing more. He turns and walks away, leaving us standing there. Violet’s hand trembles slightly in mine, and I squeeze it gently, reassuring her.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You’re safe with me.”

She nods, though her eyes still betray her uncertainty.

The ceremony is over, but the reality of our situation is just beginning to sink in for her. The tension is thick as we make our way through the crowd of well-wishers and into the waiting car.

As the car pulls away from the church, the atmosphere inside is thick with unspoken words. Violet sits next to me, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her eyes flickering nervously between me and the window. The silence stretches out, heavy and uncomfortable.

Finally, she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is a fake marriage, so we don’t have to share a bed or anything, right?”

I chuckle softly, the sound almost mocking in the confined space of the car. “You’re my bride, Violet. That’s what everyone thinks. Of course we will share the same room.”

Her eyes widen in shock, and I can see the panic rising in them. “Isn’t it enough that we’re married on paper? Why do we have to pretend like this?”

I turn to her, my expression serious. “I don’t want my staff or anyone else to get suspicious. Separate bedrooms would raise questions, and questions are the last thing we need. We need everyone to believe this marriage is real.”

She bites her lip, looking down at her hands. “I don’t know if I can do this, Kirill. It’s too much.”

I reach over, placing a hand on hers. The contact is brief, but it’s enough to make her look up at me. “Six months is hardly forever. Find a way to deal with it.”

She nods again, though the fear in her eyes is still there. “Alright,” she whispers. “I’ll try.”

The rest of the drive is silent, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I can sense her anxiety, her fear, but there’s also a steely determination beneath it. She’s resolved to see this through, and I respect that.

When we finally arrive at my penthouse, I step out first, offering her my hand. She takes it hesitantly, her grip firm despite her nervousness. We walk inside together, greeted by the staff who have gathered to welcome us.

“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Sharov,” the head housekeeper says with a warm smile. “Your room is ready.”

I nod in acknowledgment, leading Violet upstairs. The penthouse is grand, its opulence a stark contrast to the tension between us. When we reach the master bedroom, I push the door open and step inside, gesturing for her to follow.

She steps into the room, her eyes widening as she takes in the luxurious surroundings. The bed is large and ornate, dominating the room with its presence. She glances at it, then at me, her apprehension clear.

“This is where we’ll be staying,” I say, my tone matter-of-fact. “It’s important that we keep up appearances, even here. If anyone suspects anything, it could jeopardize everything.”

She nods slowly, her expression one of resignation. “I understand,” she says softly.

“Trust me.”

She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “I’m trying,” she admits. “It’s just… a lot to take in.”

I hum in agreement. Does she think this is easy for me?

She nods again, taking a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll try my best.”

“That’s all I ask,” I reply, stepping back to give her some space. “We’ll figure this out as we go.”

As she perches on the end of the bed, I watch her from the corner of my eye. There’s a vulnerability about her, but also a strength that I can’t help but admire. This marriage may be fake, but the challenges we face are very real.

I watch as Violet hesitantly sits there, still in her wedding dress. The weight of the day has clearly taken its toll on her, and I can see the tension in her every movement.

“You should take a shower,” I suggest, my tone more matter-of-fact than gentle. “It’s been a long day.”

She turns to me, her eyes flashing with offense. “Are you coming on to me?” she snaps, her voice filled with indignation.

I laugh, a deep, genuine sound that fills the room. “No, Malyshka. I’m not coming on to you. You look exhausted, and a shower might help you relax.”

She narrows her eyes at me, suspicion still evident. “I don’t need your suggestions.”

I shrug, unfazed by her anger. “Suit yourself. I have spare clothes in the laundry cupboard until you move your own stuff in. You can use them if you want.”

I walk over to the bed and sit down, unbuttoning my suit jacket. As I do, my thoughts wander. I can’t deny the attraction I feel for her, the way my mind fills with steamy thoughts every time I look at her. The wedding dress clings to her curves, and the idea of her undressing in the next room is enough to make my blood boil.

I’m not going to take advantage of her. Not now, and not ever.

She hesitates for a moment, then sighs, clearly deciding that a shower is a good idea after all. “Fine. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Through that door,” I say, pointing to an adjoining room. “Towels are in the cupboard. You’ll find everything you need.”

She gives me a wary look before heading to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The sound of running water soon fills the room, and I can’t help but imagine her undressing, the dress falling to the floor, her body exposed to the steam and warmth.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts. This is not the time for such fantasies. I need to stay focused, to keep my mind on the task at hand: protecting her.

Still, I can’t resist listening to the sounds of her shower. The gentle patter of water, the faint rustle of fabric as she moves, the soft sighs of relaxation. It’s almost intoxicating, the way she invades my senses even when she’s not in the room.

After a few minutes, I hear her step out of the shower, the soft rustling of a towel as she dries herself off. My imagination runs wild, but I force myself to stay put, not to peek in on her.

The sounds of her moving around in the bathroom continue, but she doesn’t come out.

I listen intently, straining to catch any indication of what’s taking her so long. I hear the faintest sound of her clothes shifting, the zipper of her dress, and then a soft, muffled sob. Concerned, I call out, “Malyshka?”

“I’m fine!” she snaps, but her voice is choked with tears.

I feel a pang of guilt mixed with frustration. She’s clearly upset, and while part of me feels bad for her, another part wishes she would toughen up. “You don’t sound fine,” I say, my tone a bit softer.

“I just… need a moment,” she replies, her voice wavering.

I sigh, knowing that pushing her won’t help. “Sure. Take your time.”

Leaning back on the bed, I let out a breath. This is going to be a long six months if she doesn’t find some inner strength soon. I understand that everything is overwhelming, but she needs to learn to cope with it.

Just then, my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen and see Dimitri’s name. Perfect timing. “Hey, Dimitri,” I answer, keeping my voice low.

“Hey, Boss! Just wanted to congratulate you again. How’s the marriage bed treating you?” he jokes, a raunchy laugh following his words.

I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “Dimitri, you have no idea. Let’s just say it’s a work in progress.”

“Ah, I see,” he says, still laughing. “Well, enjoy it while you can. The honeymoon period doesn’t last forever.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot more to this arrangement than you realize,” I reply, glancing toward the bathroom door. “Thanks for the well-wishes.”

“You got it, Boss. Anything you need, you just let me know,” Dimitri says, his tone turning serious.

“Will do. Keep things under control while I’m away,” I say, ending the call.

I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. My thoughts drift back to Violet.