19. Maks
19
MAKS
S ighing, I rest my elbows on my desk and knead my temples. My eyes ache from the lack of moisture and sleep, and a dull throb has started just behind them. I stayed up all night making wedding arrangements—not that I need all that time to get the necessary requirements put in place. If I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I did it to avoid the bedroom, where Lindsey locked herself away as soon as she agreed to leave for New York when everything’s settled. I only bothered her once for the rest of the day—to ask if Lindsey would like to invite anyone to the wedding. But I knew the answer before I even asked it. Her mom died when she was young. She hasn’t spoken to her father in years, and she’s worked actively to keep her friends out of the picture to protect them from me. Smart girl. So, not a single soul will be there for her today—just me.
Someone taps softly on the office door, and I scrub my face back to life, then comb my hair back from my face as I straighten.
“ Da? ”
The door swings slowly inward, and Liam steps into the room, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. “I found a dress. It’s the best I could find on short notice.”
Considering it’s entirely outside his scope of responsibilities, I’m grateful he found one at all. I just hope the effort will be a small consolation for Lindsey—something to mark the day as a special occasion, even if it’s not a future she wants. “You can leave it there.” I jerk my chin toward the overstuffed leather reading chair tucked into the corner.
He does as I say and heads back toward the door, pausing with his hand on it before he steps out. “I’ll see you at the church in an hour.”
I nod, and the door shuts softly behind him. Now comes the part I’ve been dreading. Steeling my resolve, I stand and collect the dress then head to the bedroom.
“Come in,” Lindsey says when I knock.
She’s already up, her hair freshly washed, and she’s wearing a loose sweater and leggings.
“Time to get dressed,” I state, laying the garment bag and heels Liam left me across the bed.
“Right.” Licking her lips nervously, Lindsey eyes the wardrobe.
Heading to the closet, I collect my tux and dress shoes and head back to the bedroom door. “Lenka made breakfast if you want any,” I state on my way. I already showered in one of the guest bathrooms early this morning, so it doesn’t take much for me to get ready, and I pace in the foyer after a shot of coffee. It’s been cleaned up since yesterday, the shattered remains of the ceramic vase and pool of water-soaked flowers mopped up so all that’s left as evidence is the glaringly vacant table they used to occupy. I doubt Lindsey’s ever been more clear than she is now that my world is no place for her—I’m not the kind of man she wants to end up with. After losing my temper with her so completely, I can’t blame her. Thankfully, one call to my cousin is all it took to confirm she’ll have a safe place in New York.
The soft click of heels crossing the tile reaches my ears, warning me of Lindsey’s approach. But even with the heads up, when she rounds the corner a moment later, I’m unprepared for the emotions that threaten to choke me when I see her. The dress Liam found is marginally suitable for a bride. Even so, the way she wears it steals my breath away. The folded off-the-shoulder ivory silk crisscrosses her chest, molding to her perfect breasts as it hugs her trim waist. The form-fitting skirt stops just below her knees, showing off Lindsey’s calves and the pearl-studded low-cut pumps that could give a man a foot fetish.
Actively working to keep my jaw from hitting the floor, I force my eyes back to Lindsey’s. She’s trained her golden locks into a loose updo with soft curls framing her face. She’s not wearing any makeup—not that she has any here to put on—but she doesn’t need it. Her skin is flawless, her cheeks delicately flushed, her lips naturally a deep shade of pink, but her blue eyes steal the show, their deep blue like the sea after a storm. It takes me a moment to realize why they capture my attention so dominantly today—she’s not wearing her glasses.
“Am I late?” she asks, pausing awkwardly in the doorway as she smooths down her skirt.
Clearing my throat, I tug at the collar that suddenly feels too tight. “No, you’re right on time.”
Her shoulders relax, the tense lines of her collarbone dropping as she walks toward me more confidently as I press the elevator’s call button.
“Decided you’d rather not witness what’s about to happen?” I tease, trying to soften the stiffness between us—but also in case she’s anxious enough she didn’t realize she’s missing her glasses.
“Hmm? Oh.” Lindsey reaches up as if to touch the temple of her gray frames when I gesture to where they should be, then she lets her hand drop. She releases a sharp breath, and her lips curve into a smile that makes me think it was meant as a laugh. “Yeah, I just thought—I don’t know. I wanted to look nice.”
My eyebrows lift in confusion. “You always look nice.”
Color infuses her cheeks, and her breath catches before she drops her eyes. Before the silence can become too painful, the elevator arrives, and we step inside. On instinct, my hand lifts to find the small of her back and guide her, but after what happened yesterday—and the lack of resolution that followed, I don’t want to find out how she might respond if I touch her.
The air feels electric with tension as we ride down together, the short drive even more so as Lindsey keeps her fists pressed firmly in her lap on our way to the nearest church that was available and willing to perform such last-minute nuptials. Her familiar scent of jasmine and citrus is maddeningly tempting, and I’m grateful when I can escape the confined spaces with her.
My men are already at the church—a handful of them, who came dressed for the occasion, though they’re mainly here to ensure nothing goes sideways. Lucian’s here as well, three of his men staying close as we climb out of the car.
“You pulled it off,” Lucian says by way of greeting, his smile broad enough to be genuine as he extends his hand to shake. “And I have to say, your bride is lovely. I can see why you’d want to keep her.” His eyes shift to Lindsey, his smile never faltering as he gives her a wink.
I’ve never personally wanted to kill Lucian before, but the gesture makes me consider it—just for a second. Then his attention is back to me, his smile fading as he gets down to business.
“You have the license as well?”
Reaching into the jacket of my tux, I pull out the folded paperwork just enough to show him.
“Perfect. I can’t ask for much more than to watch you both swear before god and the law, can I?” Lucian takes a moment to study Lindsey’s face, and his expression turns contemplative. Then he gestures for us to lead the way into the church.
I glance at her sidelong to find her expression somewhere between horrified and nauseated, and my gut clenches. If we’re going to sell this marriage as proof of her loyalty, she can’t look like she’s marching to her death. Turning, I offer her my elbow, and heady relief surges through me when she takes it, her hand delicately slipping into the bend of my arm as she uses it for support. I can feel her fingers trembling through the layers of my suit, and it makes my chest tighten.
“I know this might not be your first choice, but can you at least try to look happy?” I murmur. “This plan only works if Lucian believes you’ll be loyal to me, and right now, you look like you’re going to vomit.”
Lindsey’s grip tightens on my arm, and her palm splays across her stomach. “To be honest, I think I might. Fuck, can you stall—for just a minute?”
As soon as we’re through the doorway, Lindsey takes a sharp left turn, dropping my arm, and I gesture for Liam and Alexey to follow her.
Lucian’s eyes track her as well, noting as she bursts through the swinging doors. “Everything alright?” he asks.
“She’s not going anywhere,” I state flatly, working to keep the tension from my voice.
“Oh, I know. I have men posted at all the exits.” Lucian gives me a flat smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but it’s a lot easier to trust when I don’t leave room for error.”
“She’s just—going to find the minister.”
“Mm,” he says, sounding unconvinced.
“I’ll look this way,” I state, shoving open the doors that lead into the chapel. The pews are empty, and my steps echo through the vaulted space as I make my way up the aisle.
Early-afternoon sun filters through the stained glass windows, casting a soft, colorful glow in the air. Someone’s practicing the pipe organ—a towering monstrosity that sits at the back of the choir loft.
“I think I found your priest,” Lucian says from several steps behind me as the minister opens the side door to join us.
“Welcome,” he says. “Please, take a seat.”
Lucian and his men do, taking the front pew on one side of the aisle while my men take the other. Joining the minister before the altar, I glance toward the doorway for Lindsey, and wait. I’m not sure how long she needed me to stall, but if she intends to take much longer, we’re going to have bigger problems on our hands than whether she can stomach the thought of marrying me. The organ player finishes their song, and the long, deep chords fade, stretching the moment until it feels like a painfully long time to wait. Several of our wedding guests glance over their shoulder, checking to see if Lindsey will reappear, and the longer she takes, the more certain they seem that she’s not going to show.
“Your bride is here?” the minister asks, leaning toward me to keep his voice low.
“Yes, she’s?—”
Hurried footsteps stop me from having to lie to his face, then Alexey appears, making my stomach sink.
“Sorry. She said something about flowers and it being bad luck to not have them—” He throws his hands up in an expression of exasperation as he joins the rest of my men. “She’s coming now.”
As if on cue, the organist begins their next song—a slow, mournful hymn that seems darkly fitting for the occasion, but when Lindsey appears a second later, my heart skips a solid beat. Her hand is tucked into the bend of Liam’s elbow—for support or for the sake of tradition, I don’t know—but as he walks her down the aisle, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful. Lindsey looks near angelic when the sun hits her hair, casting a golden glow off her silk dress. Somewhere in this goddamn church, she managed to find a handful of flowers, and she holds them like a bridal bouquet before her. Her big blue eyes are round, a smile carefully placed on her lips, and if I didn’t know Lindsey better, I could almost believe it’s real. She and Liam don’t bother matching the organ’s slow pace as they stride toward the altar, and he passes her off quickly to me as soon as they reach the stairs.
“You okay?” I mouth.
Her coloring looks much better at least, and when she nods, that vice grip around my chest loosens just enough that I can breathe. But as the minister begins the ceremony, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,” filtering through to me as if from far away, a deep ache settles inside me. Seeing Lindsey all dressed in white, clasping a bouquet of yellow, blue, and pink flowers as she stands across from me, makes me want this. It makes me want her in a way I never thought I could want a woman before. She deserves a proper wedding—to a proper groom. But I’m all she has right now, and it makes me realize how, even if she deserves so much better, she’s all I could ever want and more.
“Do you, Lindsey Payne, take Maksim Yashkov to be your husband, to have and to hold…?”
My ears ring with the minister’s words, like my hearing is just returning after a concussive trauma, but when Lindsey speaks, it all comes back into sharp focus. Somewhere along the line, the organ stopped playing, and the silence in the church only emphasizes the slight tremor in her voice.
“I do.”
“And do you, Maksim Yashkov, take Lindsey Payne to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
I hadn’t picked the ceremonial words. I let the minister use whatever must be standard, but each line feels like a punch to the gut as I say them—to have and to hold, to love and to cherish until death parts us.
In my experience, that death could be much sooner than expected. It’s the reason I never wanted to do this in the first place, but for Lindsey, her death would come a lot sooner if we didn’t get married. The rest of it, though? Fuck, I want to have and hold her more than I want my next breath, and against all my wishes and despite my better judgment, regardless of the massive effort I’ve put into convincing myself otherwise, I’m dangerously close to falling in love with her. I already cherish her. It’s the reason I’ve gone to such lengths to keep her alive—why I’ve tried to keep her safe and happy. I might be failing miserably, but that doesn’t make it any less true, and that makes the words taste like acid as I say them.
“I do.”
“Do you have the rings?” the minister asks.
Lindsey’s lips part, a soft “Oh” rushing past them, as if she hadn’t even thought about that part. Thankfully, I did, and I dig into my pocket to pull out the three carat diamond ring that belonged to my mother along with a simple gold band for me. Lindsey gasps as I open my fist, holding the rings out to her, and her hands shake as she turns to set her bouquet aside before plucking the gold band from my palm.
The minister tells us to repeat after him, and I go first this time, taking Lindsey’s trembling fingers as I slide the ring onto her left hand. It fits well for such a last-minute solution, sliding over her knuckle and onto her ring finger like it was made for her. My pulse quickens at the sight of Lindsey wearing my mother’s wedding ring. I shouldn’t like it as much as I do, and an unexpected sense of satisfaction swells in my chest before I crush it down. This is temporary, and I can’t lose sight of that.
Lindsey sounds breathless as she holds my gold band near my ring finger, and her nerves make the meaning behind her words stand out all the more. “I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage, for today and tomorrow, and for all the days to come. It is a symbol of the vows I have made to you and a reminder that our lives are forever joined together.”
Her hand twitches as our fingers brush, and I shift quickly to snag the ring with the appropriate fingertip before it falls. Lindsey licks her lips and swallows hard, her eyes flicking up to look gratefully past her thick lashes before she slides the wedding band the rest of the way onto my hand.
The minister clasps his hands, a smile spreading across his face in genuine joy. “With this ring exchange, you have given your consent in marriage. Before your friends and family, you are now joined together in this most sacred commitment. May you be blessed with a lifetime of health, wealth, love, success, and happiness as you continue to support one another. May your love and connection grow exponentially over the years, and may your life together flourish as you walk the journey of it hand in hand. By the power vested in me by the State of Chicago, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Heat crackles up my spine as I take Lindsey’s hand, pulling her close. Our eyes lock, her lips parting as her back bows, and our bodies mold together. My cock swells against my thigh, eager for her even if this marriage is just a smokescreen to pacify Lucian. One arm wrapped around her waist, I cup the back of Lindsey’s head, her silky hair soft against my fingers, and I lean in slowly to press a chaste kiss to her lips. Someone wolf whistles as Lindsey’s grip tightens around my biceps, and I tear myself away from her before I lose control.
Reluctantly releasing her, I pull the paperwork from the inner pocket of my coat.“We have a license to sign as well.”
“Of course,” the minister says, gesturing toward the podium just left of the altar. “I keep a pen here?—”
Unfolding the paperwork, I smooth it onto the podium then hold it flat for Lindsey to sign. She does it quickly, her hand jerking through the motion of her signature. Lucian’s there to watch as I take the pen and sign my name beside hers. Lucian and the officiant sign as witnesses, then the minister collects the papers, folding them carefully along their original lines.
“I’ll submit this today,” he confirms, then offers his hand to me and Lindsey. “Congratulations, Mr. And Mrs. Yashkov.”
With a nod, the minister departs, leaving us with Lucian.
“Yes, congratulations,” the Italian says, his lips twitching at the corners as he extends his hand as well, taking Lindsey’s first before grasping mine. As we shake, he pulls me closer, grasping my elbow and leaning forward so only I can hear. “This marriage better last, Yashkov,” he warns. “All our fates ride on your new wife staying silent.”
With a final nod, he releases me, he and his men departing abruptly. His final words were a veiled threat, but Lucian has a point—if I’m wrong and Lindsey betrays us, he and his men could quite literally lose their heads.