Chapter 6 Nikolai
I’m sulking. No point in pretending otherwise.
My mood has been circling the drain since last night, and now it’s just sitting there at the bottom, dark and ugly.
Fluorescent lights in the courthouse lobby hum overhead as we walk in.
The building smells of dust, paper, and regret.
The latter of which is fitting, since I’m apparently here to sign my life away.
My boots echo against the polished tile, every step feeling heavier than the last. Enzo is keeping pace beside me, looking way too smug for someone about to watch me commit legal suicide. Cillian is a few steps ahead, like he’s leading a damn funeral procession. Which, in a way, he is. Mine.
“I could just put a bullet in his head,” I whisper under my breath, burying my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Pretty sure that would also fix this problem.”
“That’ll fix one problem,” Enzo sighs, not bothering to hide his growing annoyance, “but it’ll give you twenty others. Like, you know, us ending up in matching prison jumpsuits.”
“This assures our safety,” Cillian adds, not even bothering to turn around.
His voice is steady and infuriatingly reasonable.
Stopping on the landing, he turns, and I’m met with his unblinking stare—the kind that makes lesser men reconsider their life choices.
“You don’t have to love her, Nik. You just have to marry her. ”
“Sounds romantic,” I bite back.
“You didn’t seem too bothered by her face back at the café,” Enzo teases. He’s enjoying this far too much.
I glare at him, clenching my fists at my sides to keep from drilling one into his smug jaw. “I was surprised, that’s all. I expected—”
“Someone hideous and unmarryable?” Cillian offers dryly, quoting my rambling from this morning.
“Exactly.” They share one of those silent exchanges that makes me feel like the punchline to a joke I’m not in on. I fucking hate that.
Cillian stops outside Judge Ralston’s office and turns to face me again, his expression the kind that says he’s done trying to gently convince me that this is happening. “This is business. Nothing more.”
Business. Right?
Because all business deals come with vows, rings, and a wife. I push past him into the judge’s office before I say something I can’t take back.
Judge Ralston looks up from the manila folder spread across his desk, brows shooting up in surprise. “For fuck’s sake,” he exclaims, leaning back in his chair. “I knew it was a shotgun wedding, but I wasn’t expecting it to be you. I thought you were a bachelor for life.”
“Yeah,” I huff flatly, taking a seat without being told or offered. “I fucking thought so, too.”
Ralston laughs, flipping to a clean page. “And yet… here we are.”
The sharp click of heels against the marble turns my head.
Ani confidently steps through the threshold, her brother right behind her.
My eyes drag over her before I can stop myself—her lean legs, the subtle dip of her waist, and the faint gleam of a chain at her throat.
The black dress she’s wearing is tailored just enough to cling to all the right places.
A soft chuckle rattles my chest and I shake my head at the realization I didn’t make at the café.
Black.
My bride-to-be is dressed for a funeral, not a wedding. She catches me looking and smirks, slow and knowing, like she plans to use my wandering eyes against me later.
Judge Ralston’s eyes flick to Ani, gesturing for her to join us at his desk. The unimpressed look on her face clearly intrigues the judge. He keeps looking between us like we’re the most interesting thing he’s seen all week.
“All right, let’s make this quick. I have to get back into court.” He clears his throat. “Do you, Nikolai Romanov-King, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife—”
“Apparently, since I have to.”
Enzo elbows me in the ribs hard enough to make me grunt. “That’s not the right answer, Nik.”
“I’m not here to win any good husband points,” I grumble.
Ralston doesn’t even bother to hide his eye roll as he turns to Ani and continues, “Do you, Ani Sargsyan, take this man—”
“You call him a man?” Ani interrupts, giving me a slow once-over, her lips curling into the kind of smirk that leaves me unsure whether I want to kiss or strangle her.
Heat flares up the back of my neck, and I clench my jaw as I lean closer to her, ensuring she doesn’t miss the edge in my tone.
“If you have any doubts, I have no problem showing you how much of a fucking man I am when I take you home.” Her hazel eyes narrow, and she scoffs in disgust, but she can’t hide the tiniest flicker of intrigue in her golden pools.
Ani tears her angered gaze from mine and fixes it on her brother. “I swear, Alek… if you still cut me off after this, I’ll kill you.”
“I would expect nothing less of you, little sister.” Alek sighs.
“Good,” she spits, then looks back at Ralston. He repeats the question, unbothered, like he’s used to treating his civil ceremonies the same as hostile witnesses. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”
“Romantic as fuck.” Enzo quietly chuckles, pretending to wipe a tear from his cheek.
The judge scribbles something on the paperwork before him and snaps the folder shut, clearly done with both of us.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Try to make it a week before you kill each other. My docket is full, and I don’t have time for this bullshit.
” He signs the marriage certificate with a flourish and extends his hand to give it to me and Ani, both of us refuse to take it.
“For fuck’s sake,” Cillian huffs, swiping the paper from Ralston’s hand, who promptly waves us toward the door like he can’t wait to get us out of his office.
And that’s it. No music. No flowers. Just a state-issued stamp declaring her mine.
Mine…
Ani crosses her arms and stares at me, like she’s weighing how deep to drive the knife. “Are we good now?” Ani breaks our stare to glance at Judge Ralston, as if the man is the final stamp of legitimacy on this mess.
“According to the State of New York,” Ralston answers, already putting on his judicial robe, “we’re all done here.”
“Good,” Ani huffs. “I have an appointment at Bergdorf Goodman.” Crossing her arms, she turns on her heel and walks with purpose into the hallway. I follow behind, my eyes focused on the gentle sway of her tight ass with every heavy, defiant step she takes.
It takes about three seconds for my brain to catch up. “What the hell? An appointment?”
“She’s going shopping,” Alek shares, like he’s announcing the weather.
“She’s what?”
“Shopping,” he repeats like I didn’t actually hear him, still smiling like this is a perfectly normal thing for a brand-new bride to do. “Part of our arrangement. I’ll see to it that she heads your way afterward.”
Without another word, he strolls toward the exit, leaving me standing there with my figurative dick in my hand.
“Congratulations,” Enzo chirps, his voice dripping with amusement as Ani storms through the door and into the alley. “You’re officially a married man.”
“Don’t remind me.”