Bratva Lullaby : An enemies to lovers, mafia romance (Zarkov Bratva Book 1)

1. Brooke

I stare at my reflection in the mirror and smooth down the front of my dress. The dress is everything I dreamed about as a little girl when I used to watch all the brides come and go from my mom’s bridal boutique. The softest Italian silk. White and encrusted with the tiniest crystals. A strange sensation tingles in my stomach. Back then, I also dreamed of a handsome prince who would whisk me away and make me his wife. But I’m definitely not marrying a prince today. More like a reformed bad boy. The man in a suit who used to make all the girls at the club swoon. The rapacious flirt who changed his ways for me. You tamed me, Brooke; I’m a changed man.

I met him when I started working at the club he managed. I was the marketing manager, and he was the gorgeous boss I knew I should stay away from. But his boyish charm and dimples eventually wore me down, and before I realized it, we were a couple, and moving in together.

I take a deep breath and let it go slowly to steady my nerves. This is what I want, right? I love Wilson. We’ve been together for two years, and it’s been… great.

I push a stray curl behind my ear.

It’s just nerves.

“Are you ready?” my best friend Elsa asks. Dressed in a champagne-colored silk dress, she gives me an affectionate look. “The limousine is out front.”

I blow out another nervous breath and nod. I want this.

As I walk past Elsa, she stops me. Seven months pregnant, she takes my hand. “It doesn’t need to take you to the church, you know. Just say the word, and the driver will take us anywhere you want to go.”

I know she has her reservations about Wilson. After all, she’s my best friend, so she’s the one I turn to whenever I need to vent because Wilson is being overly flirtatious with another employee again, or Wilson is being distant and is too preoccupied to remember my birthday, or the anniversary of my parents’ death, or insert any important date he missed here. She’s also the one who knows that I haven’t been laid in almost a month because Wilson has been too busy with the club to come home and fuck me.

I give her a confident smile, but it’s all smoke and mirrors. Because behind it, I’m suffering a bad case of cold feet.

I nervously play with the owl charm hanging from the bracelet on my wrist. A gift from my mother I never take off.

The door opens, and my other two bridesmaids, Chloe and Samantha, walk in and immediately begin to gush about my dress. Chloe hands me a glass of champagne, and Samantha passes a champagne glass of juice to Elsa.

I take a sip and hope it helps calm my nerves. I want this.

There’s another tap on the door, and Henry walks in. Henry is my brother from another mother.

While I’ve known Elsa, Chloe, and Samantha since high school, I met Henry when he moved into the apartment across the hall from mine three years ago. One day, he knocked on my door asking to borrow a phone charger, and when he saw my Gucci slippers, he promptly declared us to be best friends, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Even when he moved across town to a fancy loft with his producer boyfriend, we still managed to keep up our cocktail dates.

Today, he’s giving me away. Since my parents are dead and I have no other living relatives, this little group has become my family, and when Wilson asked me to marry him, Henry was the only person I wanted walking me down the aisle.

“Am I too late for the toast?” he asks.

He isn’t carrying a glass of champagne. He’s carrying the open bottle.

“Wow!” Samantha says, her eyes sweeping over his purple herringbone suit and cravat.

“I know, I’m gorgeous,” he says with a little curtsy and a bright twinkle in his eye.

Trust Henry to go completely untraditional at a traditional wedding. His suit is a showstopper, and he looks utterly fabulous.

“Henry, would you like to do the toast?” Chloe asks.

Henry gives me a wink. “To the most beautiful bride in the world. I hope you are blessed with a beautiful wedding and a wonderful marriage.” He raises the bottle. “And may all your ups and downs only be in the bedroom.”

Chloe raises her glass. “Yes, cheers to a great marriage.”

“And great sex,” Samantha adds.

The sound of crystal chinking echoes in the hotel room.

Despite feeling sick with nerves, I take a sip of my champagne and pray for it to stay down. Maybe the alcohol will calm the butterflies and keep my nerves steady. It’s nice champagne, so I take another mouthful and enjoy the warmth spreading through me. But it does nothing to fix that tight feeling in my gut.

Get a grip. This is what you want.

“Hell, we’d better get a move on, or we’ll be late,” Henry says, putting down the bottle and offering me his arm. “Let’s roll, Cinderella.”

I force a smile and accept his arm, grateful for it because I’m not sure I’m going to be able to do this by myself.

How am I going to walk down the aisle?

When all I really want to do is run.