Chapter 12 – Karik
I stood at the altar, dressed in a white tuxedo, a black bow tie, and tailored black pants. It was the day of the wedding: a private ceremony, controlled and efficient.
The crowd was small. Just a few close friends and family members. My Uncle Pavel had called two days ago, apologizing in advance because he wasn’t going to make it.
He was in Ukraine on a secret Bratva mission that would keep him there for the next few weeks. Part of me wished he were here today, to witness this union, to behold the beauty I was settling down with.
But he wasn’t, and that was fine.
Sergei and five of my most experienced men mounted both sides of the altar, their watchful eyes roaming the church’s interior. A few others were positioned outside at strategic points, making sure no unauthorized personnel had access to the building.
The wedding was strictly by invitation because it wasn’t a celebration. It was a confirmation: one that needed only witnesses. Not guests.
I turned toward the entrance as the front door opened and she stepped inside. Dressed in an ivory gown that swept the floor behind her, she walked down the aisle.
The dress hugged her in all the right places, accentuating her figure as she moved. Heads turned toward her, glances exchanged in awe. Her heels clicked softly against the floor, almost rhythmically, her eyes sparkling with something I couldn’t name. Yet.
She gazed across the aisle, a faint grin tugging at her lips. Plastic. Fake. Yet beautiful nonetheless.
Her makeup matched the tone of her skin, making her glow in the light. Her hair was tied in a neat bun on her head, with a few stray strands framing her face.
My eyes swept over her body as she approached the altar, drinking in every detail I could catch. The nearer she drew, the more her perfume filled the air around me. Sweet. Intoxicating.
She looked even prettier than she had on the night of the gala. And deep down, I was proud. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was.
The girl might not have come from a powerful family, nor did she have any political affiliations. But she was smart, more so than most people realized.
Beyond the physical attraction, there was something about the potential she had that pulled me in. I couldn’t explain it, even if I tried. It was just there.
She joined me at the altar and stood by my side. Without saying a word, we both faced each other, and the ceremony began.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest’s voice echoed off the high walls. “We are gathered here….”
When it was time for the vows, she went first. Her voice was steady as she spoke them. Quietly. Precisely. The expression on her face was flat, the gentle rise and fall of her chest hinting at the anxiety she tried to hide.
The words came out in the correct order, but without inflection, without any weight.
When it was my turn, I said them once, meaning every word in a way that applied to my world.
Before the priest joined us finally, I saw something flash in her eyes. Defeat.
“With the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
She swallowed hard, a bead of cold sweat trickling down the side of her head.
“You now kiss the bride.”
Her breath hitched, and her body stiffened reflexively. She looked into my eyes, as if begging me to keep the physical contact to a minimum.
I placed my hand around her waist, gently pulling her into my arms. She held my gaze, her red lips parted and slightly trembling. I leaned in, about to seal our union with a kiss, when she closed her eyes.
Instead of kissing her lips, I went for her forehead. Soft. Gentle.
By the time she opened her eyes again, I’d backed away and was already facing the small crowd. Scattered applause filled the air, and all eyes were on the newlyweds.
I caught her staring at me out of the corner of my eye. Perhaps she was shocked that I went for her forehead instead of her lips. She probably didn’t expect me to be sensitive enough to pull a stunt like that.
Good.
I liked to be unpredictable.
***
Later that night, I stood on the balcony outside Ellie’s bedroom, swirling a glass of red wine. I’d shed my jacket, leaving my crisp white undershirt, untucked and loose.
The top three buttons were undone, and my now unknotted bowtie drooped around my neck, its two ends hanging unevenly. I drew a deep breath, fingers curling around the steel railing as I sipped from my glass.
Below, the city sprawled indifferently, alive and still buzzing with activities. The air carried the scent of fresh flowers from the garden nearby, the moonlight silvering everything it touched.
I stood under the cold, distant stars, my mind reeling with a thousand thoughts. My bride was in the bathroom; she’d been in there for over an hour now.
She wasn’t going to hide in there forever. Sooner or later, she’d step out and face her new reality. And I’d be here. Waiting.
I drained the rest of the wine down my throat and set the glass down. When I turned around, about to go back into the room for a refill, our eyes locked.
She was already out, standing beside her bed. The white robe she wore clung to the damp warmth of her skin, the belt tied but not tight. The fabric settled softly against her curves, her wet hair catching the light.
A single droplet traced a slow path down the side of her neck before disappearing into the collar of her robe.
I stepped forward, unable to take my eyes off her, a flutter rising in my chest. She braced herself as I closed the distance between us, her gaze darting to the floor.
“Now what?” she asked when I was close enough, her voice barely above a whisper.
I halted in front of her, watching her steel herself for my response. I reached for the bedside table, set the empty glass on it, then faced her again.
“It’s our wedding night,” I replied, watching her closely. “I believe you know what couples do on their wedding night.”
She went silent, unable to meet my gaze for some reason. Ellie was tense and guarded, but uncertainty was etched on her face. The fire in her eyes seemed to have fizzled out, and she wasn’t as defiant as before.
She looked helpless. Defeated. Vulnerable.
A part of me didn’t like that. I preferred the fiercer version of her.
She finally raised her head, managing to look right at me. “What’re you waiting for?”
A pause.
She added, “I’m yours now, am I not?”
“You are.”
“Once again, you got what you wanted,” she whispered. “You must be really proud of yourself.”
Her words stung in ways they shouldn’t, but I kept a straight face. She flinched as I reached out and pulled her closer, my hands on her waist. She didn’t resist, didn’t push me away.
In that proximity, her breasts were soft against my chest, her head tilted upward. Her eyes bore into mine for the next few seconds as the silence stretched. Tension hung in the air, and I could almost hear the sound of her racing heart.
Her lips trembled as they had earlier on the altar, and her breath hitched. She wasn’t ready. And I wasn’t about to force her.
“You think so lowly of me, milaya,” I whispered, my fingers brushing against her wet hair.
Her gaze was unwavering, her lips still quivering subtly.
“Perhaps with time, you’ll learn to see me differently.” My eyes discreetly traced the perfect curve of her mouth, feeling her shudder beneath my grip.
Her breath was warm against my skin, her chest heaving slowly. The look in her eyes and her lack of resistance told me she was willing to surrender her body. But I wasn’t willing to take what she wasn’t ready to give.
I let go and pulled back. Not far. Just enough to see her flushed face and unfocused eyes. She blinked, releasing a quiet sigh that seemed an awful lot like relief.
“Don’t worry,” I said, a smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “I won’t take you until you beg for it.”
She hesitated. “And what if I don’t beg for it?”
I leaned in, whispering in her ear, “Don’t overestimate your strength…Ellie.” I paused slightly as I straightened again.
She said nothing.
Quietly, I walked away, leaving her standing there alone. It took everything in me to exercise that much restraint tonight. But for how long was I going to keep this up?
How long until I lost control?