Chapter 4 - Feliks
The air in the room hung heavy with the scent of cigars and my simmering frustration. The mahogany chessboard gleamed under the harsh overhead light. Across the table, Kirill, my cousin, and confidant, surveyed the game with a predatory glint I knew all too well dancing in his eyes.
I tapped my finger against the rim of the glass of vodka in my hand, but the coolness of the glass did nothing to help with the burning storm brewing within me.
Kirill captured another pawn with a satisfied smirk, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. The man had been incredibly annoying since the news of my marriage had circulated.
I took a swig of vodka before concentrating on the board before me, trying to calculate my next move.
I moved a pawn forward, and Kirill wasted no time making his next move.
“Looks like your king’s about to be checkmated, Feliks.” Kirill chuckled, the sound like gravel underfoot. “Just like the Pakhan’s little arrangement has checkmated you,” he said in a sing-song voice that almost had me lunging at him.
This time, Kirill let out a loud laugh, and I scowled, fighting the urge to squeeze the life out of him. The mention of my forced marriage to Daniel’s daughter, Veronica, was scraping against my already-frayed nerves, and Kirill’s mockery was adding salt to the injury.
I had yet to meet this woman, but Kirill’s disdainful description of her—they’d met once before at an event—wasn’t exactly painting a flattering picture. Kirill had a knack for reading people; no matter how good of a pretense one put up, Kirill was the guy to see through it.
He was so good that, over time, I’d come to respect his ability; he was never wrong. He saw people for who they truly were, and with his description of Veronica, it was safe to say that this entire arrangement would be a much bigger problem than I had initially anticipated.
“She’s probably got more plastic on her than a surgeon’s convention,” Kirill continued, his eyes glittering. “Trust me, Feliks, you won’t last a week with that girl.” Kirill guffawed.
“I’m sure she can’t be that bad, Kirill,” I said calmly, capturing his knight as I spoke, but the action didn’t deter him because he continued.
“Exactly, because she’s worse . Spoiled brat.” Kirill scoffed, making a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Daddy’s little princess, with a trust fund bigger than her brain. I’m telling you, she’s the typical socialite Barbie.”
I winced. The image Kirill conjured was not exactly a turn-on, especially since I’d seen a picture of my bride; it was too easy to picture her in the light my cousin was painting. The whole arranged marriage left a bitter taste in my mouth that I hadn’t been able to get rid of for days. Marriage had never been on my agenda; commitment—in that aspect—wasn’t a word I was comfortable using.
But defying the Pakhan? Even more unthinkable.
“Orders are orders, Kirill,” I growled, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “The Pakhan has instructed it to happen, and there’s hardly a thing you and I can do about it. If there were, I would never be seen with that blondie. In truth, I doubt I would have gotten into a relationship with anyone . Left to me, I’ll die on this hill of bachelorhood, but life has other plans.”
I took another swig of my drink as I spoke, hissing when it warmed my throat on its way down.
“You should meet her, at least once, before the wedding—you know, to melt away the ice so things are a little... easier. It might be a good idea to get acquainted. There’s no telling how long you’ll be stuck together, and it might help if the foundation is not so shaky.
“You might also want to put away big, bad, scary Feliks when you meet her—some ladies like the appeal, but not a woman like Veronica. You don’t want her running in tears back to her Daddy at the first sight of you. You never know—maybe she’s changed, maybe she’s less of a spoiled brat now. You might even end up falling in love and have a successful and happy marriage.” Kirill’s words held a hint of seriousness for the first time that night, causing a slight smirk to form across my lips.
Love was one of the most significant vulnerabilities a man had. It was a sham that I’d uncovered at an early age. Plus, there was no love for men like me. Maybe sometimes we got lucky, like Dominik. Sometimes, even men like me managed to escape from the claws of death, blood, and revenge and find the other halves of our souls. However, that was only a handful—very, very few. The majority of us haven’t experienced that in our lifetime.
I was a man of the darkness. It’s who I’d always been, what I’d always known. I’d seen and experienced too much to be able to fall under the control of a woman in the name of love. It just wasn’t for me.
The notification light on my phone caught my eye, indicating I had a text.
New information regarding your wedding .
The message burned a hole in my vision, but I resolutely refused to acknowledge it. I turned my attention to Kirill, who had his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the chessboard.
“It doesn’t matter if we have to spend a lifetime together. This union will have no friendship, and I plan to make that known as soon as possible. It’s strictly business, and we’ll treat it as such.”
Kirill raised his eyes to meet mine. I could see the disapproval and protest in his gaze, but I slowly shook my head.
“It is business, Kirill, and that’s it.” My voice was cold, but I wasn’t interested in this wedding or its preparations, and I would make that clear to her.
Just then, another notification made my phone vibrate, and I moved to pick it up, intending to dismiss it and put my phone on Do Not Disturb. However, the sender of this message was unknown, which sparked my curiosity.
Unknown - 3:16 pm: Hello, hubby to be, fingers crossed you’re not in the middle of some nasty shit, and this message gets to you in time. Your future wife, or perhaps a future headache, would like a word. So, whenever you’re done with your nasty shit, kindly reach out to me .
Kindly? I didn’t know Barbie could be polite.
My scowl melted, replaced by a slow, surprised grin. My fingers danced over the touchscreen as I tried to think of a response. This was quite an interesting turn. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage wouldn’t be entirely as joyless and annoying as I’d anticipated. She seems to have a good sense of humor.
Kirill’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, at my sudden change in demeanor. He looked at me with an expectation that made me chuckle.
“Well,” I drawled, a hint of amusement dancing in my voice, “perhaps meeting her wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.”
I typed a response to my bride.