Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
KAYLANI
Vegas didn’t look like the version from the movies, at least not for me.
There were no glittering regrets. No neon hangovers.
Heat pressed through the windows, my hair and skin begging for moisture, and the faint smell of stale smoke clung to everything. A disgusting combination of history and old money, decay dressed up as excess.
You had to experience Vegas for yourself to understand. The bright lights and sun sucked up your sins and spat you back out again. Sometimes better. Sometimes worse.
The Strip was a living entity. It knew exactly what I’d done, and not only found it entertaining, but familiar. Ours wasn’t the first marriage consummated in desperation.
Well, maybe I had been a little more theatrical than most. I’d always liked being different.
I sat on the edge of the couch with my bare feet pressed into the carpet, my dress folded neatly over the arm of one of the chairs.
It wasn’t flashy, just a simple white dress that said more about who I wanted to be and not who I really was.
I stared at it for several moments, waiting for something to twist inside my chest.
It didn’t.
I didn’t regret it. Maybe I should, but I didn’t.
Would it have been nice to have my family at my wedding, supporting me? Yes. But that had never been an option. I wasn’t about to mourn the impossible when this had been entirely my decision.
Standing, I grabbed a coffee off the room service tray and walked over to the window, not caring if it was bitter or sweet, as long as it settled my nerves.
The fight with Goran wasn’t over. He had to accept that this was the only way.
Steam drifted into the living area, carrying the clean scent of soap and announcing Goran before he stepped out of the bedroom. I caught his reflection in the tall windows, and my heart hammered. It always had. Even before it was appropriate.
Fifteen. That was how old I was when I first noticed him. Goran was nine years older, Nathaniel’s soldier, and his best friend. In a word…Untouchable.
When I came home from Wayward the summer I turned eighteen, something had shifted. I caught his subtle glances across the room. It was thrilling and dangerous. He never touched me, but I’d felt the tug, like two magnets inching closer despite themselves.
By Christmas break of senior year, I’d stopped pretending not to see it. No one had questioned when I asked him to escort me to the stables so I could check on Atlas. Everyone had been too busy with one thing or another. I remembered his skeptical look, but he hadn’t argued.
Right there in the middle of the aisle, his arms full as he held my horse’s water bucket and saddle, I’d taken full advantage and kissed him for the first time. He’d stood frozen, but his eyes had flared with heat.
I’d always been a bit too wild, too forward, and too reckless. But with him, I felt…calm and almost shy.
I’d been raised by men who took what they wanted, and somewhere along the way, I’d decided that if they were allowed to claim power without apology, then so was I. And I would find a way to claim Goran for my own.
I turned slowly, my eyes tracing his hard body from head-to-toe and back again. A towel sat low on his hips, and his dark hair was damp. His jaw was freshly shaved, and the tattoos that covered his skin stood out in the morning light.
He looked like himself now. Grounded. Dangerous. Soft, only where he allowed himself to be, which was only with me.
“I feel you staring at me,” he groaned, rubbing his hair dry.
“Haven’t you heard?” I said lightly. “It’s perfectly appropriate for a wife to stare at her husband.”
He crossed his arms, biceps flexing, and my mouth watered despite everything sitting heavy between us.
“No snappy comeback?” I taunted as I walked to the table loaded with silver domes of food. I sat down and refilled my coffee. “Nothing about how we shouldn’t be married?”
“We shouldn’t be. You know it. I know it. But my head hurts too much to fight with you about it again right now.”
I rolled my eyes. “What I know is that we’re two consenting adults who love each other and got married.”
His hands gripped the back of the dining chair so hard I heard the wood groan.
“Being drugged does not count as consensual.”
I glanced sideways at him, then leaned back, folding my arms.
“Answer me this, Goran. If I were a stripper from one of Nathaniel’s clubs, or a girl you found on a dating app, or even the barista back home who clearly has a thing for you…would you be fighting this marriage right now? Or would you be happy, pick me up, and make love to me?”
He sat down slowly, tension radiating off him.
“You know that’s not a fair question.”
“Why not?” I snapped, gesturing toward the window. “Why don’t I get to have what I want? What we want? Why does my father decide who I love just because my last name is Mikhailov?”
“Because this life isn’t built on fairness,” he growled back. “We are not normal people.”
Tears burned my eyes. “Then, isn’t it about time a woman evened the playing field?”
Silence followed, and the two of us were left staring at one another.
Goran looked away first, his hazel eyes catching the gold in the sunlight.
“Lani… if this is truly what you want, I won’t fight you.
I’ll accept whatever punishment comes for me because I love you enough to die for you.
But understand this…your father will retaliate.
He will take everything you love away from you.
Not just money, but all the dreams you’ve worked so hard for.
I’ve never deserved you, and I never will.
Dimitri will never be okay with you marrying a lowly soldier who has nothing to offer.
One day, you’re going to see that. I just hope you don’t regret this moment or me when you do. ”
Goran’s words landed like a blade between my ribs. He stood, turning toward the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m not hungry,” he said, closing the door behind him.
The tears quietly slid down my cheek. Not because I regretted marrying him, but because for the first time, I was afraid he might regret marrying me.
The jet hummed beneath my feet as we lifted into the dark.
I’d decided it was best if we left, rather than staying another night.
Vegas fell away in a wash of lights, the city shrinking until it was nothing more than a glittering lie against the desert.
I watched it disappear through the small window, my reflection faint against the glass.
Goran sat across from me, seatbelt fastened, posture rigid. He hadn’t touched me since he woke up in the suite. Not my hand. Not my knee. Not even by accident.
The distance felt deliberate, and I told myself it was temporary, but I quietly feared that I’d broken us by forcing this marriage.
The cabin lights were low, the interior all leather and quiet power, and my thoughts ran wild. We were jetting back to a life that would look at us differently, one that would try to pull us apart and destroy us.
“Can I see the marriage certificate,” Goran asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Are you going to burn it?” I cocked a brow as I opened my purse.
“No…never.”
Those two words made my heart jump. I handed over the folded paper, and Goran opened it slowly, staring for a long time before looking up at me.
“You changed my name to Mikhailov.”
“I did,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Goran pinched the bridge of his nose, and I bristled.
“We can take your name if it means that much to you,” I huffed, crossing my arms.
“It’s not that…it’s just…never mind.” Goran refolded the paper and handed it back. “When we land, we act normal. I need time to figure out how to talk to Nathaniel about this, before anyone else finds out,” he said, voice steady like he flipped a switch and was once more all business.
I nodded.
“No announcements, posts, or suddenly grabbing my hand at dinner and making a proclamation,” he ordered, locking eyes with me. “I mean it, Lani…if we have any chance of making this work, and me not getting killed, you can’t go off script because your father pissed you off that day.”
“Yes, I know,” I said with a sigh.
“And no telling your friends, Fawn, Fiona, no one. No mistakes.”
I almost smiled. “I don’t make those.”
His gaze held something unreadable.
“And one more thing.”
Goran held up his hand, tugging off his wedding ring.
My heart lurched, but then he put it on his right instead. Nodding, I looked down and slowly slipped the gold band off my finger. I felt the ache of its loss deep in my bones. Unclipping my necklace, I added it beside the gold horse charm of Atlas’s head.
I tucked the chain into my shirt, and rubbed at my bare finger. I might have only worn it for two days, but he’d placed a ring on my heart long ago.
Goran shifted over to the seat beside me. He didn’t say anything but held open his hand. Linking our fingers, I squeezed, drawing strength and conviction from his touch.
I’d crossed a line and taken something that could not be given back. And I’d do it again if it meant we could be together.
The jet cut through the night sky, taking us home to California, where my family and my father waited. A life where we were forced to pretend nothing had changed, though something had. And I knew one thing with brutal certainty.
Dimitri Mikhailov would eventually learn the truth. And when he did, he wouldn’t be facing a reckless daughter. He would face a woman who was strong enough to choose her own future.