Chapter 12 #2
The following “Aw” voiced by the crowd roused conflicting feelings in me. It was sweet, and I’d never seen such a smile from Kirill; there was almost tenderness in his eyes. Was he getting that good?
I extracted my left hand with difficulty from my father and met his glassy eyes full of pleading, begging me to call this off.
“I love you, Dad,” I choked, and gave his cheek a quick peck before I turned myself over to my fate. If I’d hugged Dad, I might have dissolved into tears.
“Are you okay?” Kirill asked in my ear, voice gentle. Oh, he was turning on the charm. My hesitancy spooked him.
“I’m fine.”
“You had me worried there.”
It was time to play a role. I shot him a dazzling smile of my own. “Like you said, I’m a papa’s girl.”
The ceremony was a blur. A fever dream.
I’d never been to a wedding like this. The officiant wasn’t a priest or a minister, and the ceremony was like a pagan ritual.
There was no mention of God or any verses from the Bible.
He talked about the commitment to each other, to the family, and to the future we would build.
He talked about our mutual love, respect, and comfort.
Growing old together and cherishing each other to build a strong marriage.
I repeated vows that were merely words on paper. I didn’t feel like it was me saying those vows. Like it wasn’t me slipping the ring on Kirill’s finger.
But when it was Kirill’s turn, something happened that pulled me out of my trance. It was his deep baritone, the piercing depths of his eyes as he spoke to me directly. Like he meant the vows he was saying. Vows of commitment, and love, and respect.
He slipped the wedding band onto my finger, and then it was over.
The officiant announced to the crowd that we were Mr. Kirill Zahkarov and Mrs. Lucia Zahkarova.
Following that declaration, Kirill gave me a firm kiss.
Nothing scandalous, even respectful. It was as though he still didn’t trust me to run away.
When he raised his head, our gazes locked. His questioning, mine probably dazed.
The applause and cheering of the crowd reminded me of the role I was supposed to play. I offered him a tentative smile before we turned and faced our family.
Three hours later
When you are the bride, you have tunnel vision, but I should have trusted my gut.
The ceremony and reception went off without a hitch.
After his initial broody face, Kirill transformed into an attentive groom.
He wasn’t that much out of character. He didn’t laugh; he smirked.
Sometimes, I could even make out a genuine smile.
After we signed the marriage contracts, the tension seemed to have dissipated from both families.
For now.
Kirill and I circulated among family and associates. He even left me alone with my cousins.
“I really thought we were going to have a runaway bride,” Ivy said. “I was ready to rumble.”
I laughed. And she really would. Ivy was a practitioner of the martial arts and could kick ass.
“So there really was a getaway car?” I asked, sipping my first wine of the evening. I hadn’t eaten, and I was nibbling on a plate of food Margo ordered me to eat.
“Yes,” Matteo said. “Three SUVs are hanging around the perimeter of the property, waiting for my signal.”
I shook my head, but my heart expanded with what my family was prepared to do. “I really appreciate everything.”
“Aw, we love you.” Sera hugged me.
“Bianca is bummed Sandro wouldn’t let her come.” Sloane was sitting on Dom’s lap.
“Ugh, we don’t need to manage him,” Dom scoffed. “He’s been a growly ass since Bianca reached the last few weeks of her pregnancy.”
“He’s just a nervous first-time dad-to-be,” Sloane replied.
Margo arrived at our table. “Where’s Kirill? It’s almost the cake cutting.”
“Somewhere,” I replied nonchalantly. My feet were killing me and I didn’t want to go in search of my groom. “Can’t you send someone to look for him?”
My family around the table laughed. “Lucy’s already tired of her husband,” Sera quipped.
Margo stared at me as if saying, he’s your problem now.
“Fine.”
I left my phone at the head table, which was mostly empty. Ivan and Irina were talking to Uncle Cesar, Dad, and Paulie. Aralina was talking to Maksim.
The second I picked up my phone, a message popped up.
Do you know where your husband is?
It was from an unknown number. At first, I thought it was one of Margo’s assistants also asking me where Kirill was.
But the picture that followed soured the wine in my stomach. The image was dark and grainy, but I recognized Kirill’s unmistakable frame. In front of him was Anya. Oh, for fuck’s sake. When did she arrive? She wasn’t at the ceremony, thank God, but most of the guests had arrived for the reception.
Kirill couldn’t even stay away from Anya tonight of all nights.
When he recited those vows, I almost believed that at least we’d have respect in the marriage.
This was blatant disrespect, but maybe he meant the opposite of everything he promised me.
It took superhuman effort not to hurl my phone across the room and scream.
The surrounding chatter grew louder and pressed against my skull.
Before I lost control of my jumbled emotions—because I couldn’t identify a single one right now except self-righteous fury and a clawing pain in the center of my chest—I strode briskly towards the exit.
I didn’t know what the hell I was feeling, so I trusted my feet in their desire for escape.
I passed a couple of guests, forcing a smile when all I wanted was to destroy all the artwork and sculptures that decorated the hallway.
When I found a quiet corner, I tried to assemble and sort through my emotions, but another message came.
This time with a video.
Their heads were close together, and Kirill had his arms around Anya. They weren’t kissing, but obviously they were in an intimate conversation.
I concentrated on identifying their surroundings. They were at the portico where we had our pictures taken earlier. It was a gorgeous structure comprising a row of Roman columns. The wisteria vines that wrapped around the columns made a beautiful backdrop of purple and green.
Those pictures were now ruined and tainted.
I approached the French doors that led to the portico. It was already wide open, and I could see my new husband. And what did I even call Anya?
His mistress. His sidepiece. I had no proof. They could be talking innocently.
Why was I still so blind? The signs were all there. This was the last straw.
I stepped out of my shoes and shifted to stealth mode. I’d done my share of breaking and entering, and creeping up to them was child’s play. I traversed the outside of the columns until I came upon the couple.
“Anya, control yourself.”
“I can’t, Kirill!” she sobbed. “I can’t stand the fact that you married her. It should have been me.”
“Davenport is barely in the ground,” he sighed.
“How long do I have to wait?”
“Anya. I never promised you—”
“You did! You told me you would take care of me…that I would always have you. That I will always come first before anyone else.”
Silence from Kirill. He didn’t deny it. Anya continued to cry.
“I need to head back.” Kirill’s voice was gentle but firm.
“Stay with me a few minutes more…”
“Anya…”
I steeled myself and stepped out from the shadows. I’d heard more than enough, and I doubted Kirill was going to say more. What I couldn’t risk was someone else finding them like this.
Both of them turned rigid. I couldn’t explain the satisfaction I felt even when my marriage was crumbling in front of me before it even had a chance to start.
In the three weeks leading up to the wedding, I psyched myself up to believe that I was going to be okay. I knew the score. That Kirill could be his agenda-driven cold self and use me to further his ambitions because he didn’t deny that I was a suitable wife for his purposes.
What I couldn’t accept was him running to comfort another woman when the ink was barely dry on our marriage contract.
“Sorry to interrupt this intimate interlude,” I said, proud that my voice was steady and clear. I stared at Kirill. “Margo wants us for the cake cutting.” I gave a disgusted huff. “Afterwards, I don’t care if you two fuck each other’s brains out.”
I spun around and stalked back to where I had come from.
I heard brief, harsh arguing, but I was busy staring ahead, glancing briefly at the slatted roof of the portico to prevent tears from falling, but blazing fury burned them dry.
I was stepping into my shoes when Kirill caught up with me. I didn’t acknowledge him.
“Eavesdropping never—”
“Save it,” I snapped and spun around and poked him in the chest. “Eavesdropping on you has saved me from your lies.”
“Lies?” His brows drew together. “You'd better have proof before accusing me of lying.”
I laughed sarcastically. “The lunch after the cake tasting. You didn’t have to go that far to find out my favorite things when all you needed was a cover to meet with an associate.”
For once, Kirill was stunned into silence. He regarded me not as the woman he had just married, but as an adversary who had backed him into a corner—exposed his lies—and he was re-strategizing ways to get out of it.
“You heard,” he rasped.
“Unfortunately, I didn’t hear anything damning to put you in jail,” I taunted.
“Just that I’m a perfect cover to anyone following you, and that I’m gullible to all your manipulations.
Well, if you think all my sweet smiles and compliance since then were me falling in line, then you’re the gullible one, not me. ”
When my revelation continued to rob him of speech, I sneered. “What, no comeback?”
“You’re an excellent actress.”
I made an elaborate wave to acknowledge his conclusion.
“Now what have I gotten myself into?” he muttered.
I leaned in. “Your worst nightmare.”
His eyes gleamed. “Looking forward to it.”
“What the hell are you two doing there!” Margo’s voice broke through our locked stares.
Behind her was Sato. Belatedly, I wondered where Sato had been, that no one had stopped me from discovering Kirill with Anya.
Maybe Kirill had intended for me to find them.
I wasn’t going to break. “And where the hell were you, Kirill?”
“He never passes up an opportunity to do business,” I said sweetly. “Come on.” I tucked my hand in his even when the contents of my stomach threatened upheaval for merely touching this treacherous prick. If I vomited on his shoes, it was nothing less than this fucker deserved.
I wanted to be as far away from this asshole and leave with my family, so it was a struggle to say, “Let’s have some cake.”
“Should I be worried?” he drawled.
I glanced up at him. “That I would smash cake in your face? No, that would be a waste of cake. Besides, that would also mean I give a damn.”