9. Luna
Iwanted to leave this reception the moment I walked in.
I glance over to where Nikolai is standing with several of his Bratva brothers; one being the man with the eerie smile I noticed at my house weeks ago. Nikolai’s shoulders shake with laughter, capturing the attention of everyone around him. He’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met with his short blond hair and hazel eyes, and a trimmed beard that doesn’t hide his dimple when he smiles. Although, he hasn’t smiled at me.
After the ceremony, and after my mother required me to touch up my makeup since I was sweating so much at the altar, we arrived at the country club venue separately. It was a neutral location selected by both leaders. My mother wasn’t thrilled about it—preferred the private botanical gardens at some other place—but the expansive ballroom is beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the farm side display lush greenery, and several doors open up to the gardens, including a charming gazebo as the focal point.
I’ve been seated alone at the two-person wedding table for twenty minutes. Hors d’oeuvres are being served and drinks are flowing from the bar. My eyes wander to the armed men, ten on each side of the room, then over to where my father is speaking with Luka Morozov.
I slouch, slinking down into my chair as tears threaten to fall. I wrap my arms around my middle, keeping my head down. I don’t need a room full of mafia men to realize I’m about to lose it. Dizziness makes everything spin and I try to signal a waiter for some water. Unfortunately, every time they pass, the words won’t come out. The pit in my stomach grows with each passing minute—I need to get out of here.
A glass of water is placed in front of me, and I glance up to see Luka’s fiancée standing in front of me. Her smile is infectious. I can’t help but offer a small one back.
“Figured you could use this.” She motions to the extra seat at the table, and I nod, effectively giving her permission to sit down. “I’m Kate,” she says, extending her hand.
“Luna,” I croak, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I snatch the water off the table and drain half, instant relief flooding my mouth. “Thank you, I needed that.”
“Have you talked to him yet?” she asks, her gaze going to Nikolai, who has moved on to talk with several young women, all of whom are fawning over him. I lower my head again, not wanting Kate to see my embarrassment.
“No, I haven’t.”
My hand shakes as I go to lift my glass again, but Kate snags my wrist before I reach it. She offers a gentle squeeze.
“I’m sorry this happened to you, Luna.”
There’s a soothing quality to her voice, and I appreciate her words. She’s the only person who has offered condolences to me. The only person to see through the cheap distraction of what this truly is.
The ache in my chest grows as I catch Nikolai out of the corner of my eye. His hand runs through his hair, and he takes another drink from his tumbler while handing a flute of champagne to a redhead. This guy is something else. Probably never been in a committed relationship in his life.
“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” Kate says.
I offer Kate a quick nod as she stands and makes her way over to the table where my family and Luka are seated together. I’ve been so easily discarded by my family. I served my purpose, and now I’m left to crumble into pieces.
The ballroom quiets as dinner service begins. Dishes of lamb and risotto are delivered to the tables. Nikolai glances in my direction, and our eyes meet for a moment before I jerk mine away, a plate of risotto having been placed in front of me. I don’t touch it. I typically have to wait for my father to start eating. Glancing at their table, I see they’ve already been served. Hunger is the last thing on my mind.
The fork to my right sparkles under the chandelier lights. I pick it up and push the risotto around on my plate. Anxiety over this evening, of leaving here with a man I don’t know, crashes into me, and I need air. Now.
My chair groans as I push back from the table, the scrape against the floor short and loud, but no one bothers to look. They’re too taken with their own conversations and filling their bellies on my family’s dime.
I hurry to the closest double doors. The terrace is a seamless blend of natural beauty and comforting indoor amenities. My heels click over the polished stone, past plush seating beneath a pergola and dimly lit lanterns. I trek to the stone banisters that flank grand-looking steps leading down into the gardens and the rolling hills beyond.
The music from inside is barely audible now, the silence giving my mind room to think—although, entertaining my predicament only causes more pain. Several tears trickle down my face. I try to take steadying breaths.
“Are you all right?”
A voice, full of raw texture and alluring charm causes me to jump, and I turn, eyes widening when I find Nikolai standing behind me. It’s the first words he’s spoken to me, besides the spoon-fed vows we spit out, and I don’t know how to respond. Am I all right?
Absolutely not.
Why does it feel like he’s handling this better than me? His expression is calm; he seems unfazed by this morbid scenario of us now being married. He just stands there, hands in his pockets, head tilted to the side as if he’s trying to figure out what my problem is.
“Just needed some air,” I stumble out.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a second, then down to where I’m spinning my family’s ring on my finger. The awkward silence perpetuates between us. The evening air is chilly, but it offers a gloriousnumbing, and I start to turn back toward the hills, ready for him to leave and go back inside.
“You didn’t eat.”
My gaze snaps to him. His lips have pulled into a thin line. He noticed I didn’t eat?
“I wasn’t hungry.” More like I couldn’t stomach the food.
He glances back to the ballroom. Servers are refilling drinks, and aside from Luka and my father, each group is keeping to themselves.
“We should probably speak with your father about arranging your items to be moved …” Nikolai’s words trail off when he sees my head shake.
“I have a bag with me. I don’t need anything else.”
I packed last night, choosing some of the clothes I thought would be appropriate to wear for … whatever I’m going to be doing as this man’s wife. A few of my favorite thrillers line the bottom of my suitcase, and I have my personal toiletry items. That’s it. Nothing else from my room was me, so I saw no reason to take it.
An expression of confusion on his handsome face threatens a smile from my own, but I snuff it out.
“Look, Luna …” My name on his lips draws my gaze directly to his. “This isn’t what either of us want, I know. I don’t expect a real marriage from you, and you shouldn’t expect that from me. Contractually, I’m bound to you only because it binds our organizations together.”
His words cut deep. I didn’t want this, far from it, but knowing I’m a contract to him—not a person—means I’ll live the rest of my life alone. And what if this could work? He’s murdered the option before we’ve even started.
Everyone knows most mafia men aren’t even loyal to the women they choose to marry. But the double standard remains. If a man seeks pleasure elsewhere, it’s normal. If a woman in our world does, she’s ruined.
“I understand,” I say, turning back to the gardens, the spring chill seeping into my bones.
The moon hangs low, glowing bright, and I focus there, swatting away the tears dripping down my face. The faint sound of Nikolai’s footsteps gradually fades, leaving only my unsteady breaths for company.
Yeah, I really want to leave this reception.