Chapter 9 —Ravyn
The white silk lace was everything I ever imagined—fitted, gorgeous, expensive—yet it felt like a costume. It felt wrong, forced, heavy with the weight of the choice I never had.
My heart was pounding in my chest, a heatwave coursing through my body as I stood in front of the full-length mirror. The woman staring back at me was a beautiful bride—light makeup that blended with her skin tone, honey-blonde hair styled to perfection, and lips painted a shade of red.
I drew a deep breath, fighting back the tears that welled in my eyes. Under different circumstances, this would’ve been a happy moment with tears of joy. But it wasn’t. It was the exact opposite, and these tears were from a place of heartbreak, pain, and agony.
Everything was happening so fast, and there was no time to think, analyze, or even plan. To make matters worse, I had no say in the preparation of this supposed big day. None whatsoever. Which proved the fact that I was not a bride, just a prisoner pretending to be one.
Today wasn’t about me or my happiness, as most people assumed.
It was about Lev Tarasov and his pride. For him, today was the day he would officially claim me as just another piece of property he bought at auction.
I was broken on the inside, yet on the outside, I had to look and play the part.
I had to act like the happiest bride on Earth because my jailer made it clear that it was what he expected from me.
If only the ground would open up and swallow me whole right now, it would spare me from a lifetime of regret, pain, and suffering.
I tipped my head toward the ceiling so the tears would travel back instead of trickling down my cheeks.
“You got this, girl. You got this,” I whispered to myself, letting out a series of slow breaths.
A knock on the door snapped me back to reality, my shoulders flinching at the sudden sound. My hands darted to my face, and with the back of my fingers, I gently dabbed my eyes. “Who is it?” I asked.
“It’s me, princess,” Dad answered from behind the door.
I hesitated for a moment, wiping the tears from my lashes. “Come in, it’s open.”
The door creaked slightly, and he walked inside, dressed in an impeccably tailored black tux with a bow tie around his neck. “Hey, baby,” he said softly, his voice calm and gentle.
My lips curled into a faint grin. “Hi, Dad.”
His polished shoes scuffed against the marble floor as he drew closer, beaming with pride. “You look amazing.”
My cheeks flushed a little, and I looked down at the floor. “Thank you.”
He stopped in front of me, his cologne filling my space. Dad took my hand and gently lifted my chin. I tried to avoid his gaze, but he kept trying to meet my eyes until he finally did.
“I know this is difficult,” he said, with a voice so tender and almost comforting. “And I cannot begin to tell you just how much your sacrifice means to me.” He squeezed against my fingers. “But know this: I am so proud of you.” His smile broadened.
A small, almost imperceptible smile twitched at a corner of my mouth.
Of course, he was proud of me—his business was booming again, his name was out of the gutters, and his reputation had been restored. Why wouldn’t he be proud of the sacrificial lamb that gave up everything to save his empire?
At the end of the day, both my father and my soon-to-be husband were first and foremost businessmen before anything else.
In all of this craziness, I was the only one who lost everything while these two men profited off my sacrifice.
Maybe it was silly to feel used by them, but honestly, that was how I felt right now.
They both used me to get what they wanted, and I was so blinded by my emotions that I couldn’t see it. This was a game, and I was the pawn in it. Dad used me to regain everything he had lost, and Lev used me for reasons I was still trying to understand.
I never took the time to connect the dots until now, and it hit me like an arrow to the heart. At this point, I was starting to doubt my father’s motive behind all of this.
Indeed, Dad hadn’t forced me into this marriage; I willingly walked right into it in order to save his life. But wait a minute, was his life ever really in danger? Was he counting on me to step in and salvage the situation?
Nothing was adding up anymore. It suddenly didn’t make sense to me, and I couldn’t help feeling stupid. I knew this marriage was a huge mistake, but I used to think it was worth it. Now, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Or maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Maybe Dad didn’t mean for any of this to happen; maybe he didn’t plan to profit off my sacrifice. Maybe he was just as heartbroken as I was.
Why was I confused just now? Wasn’t the whole point of my sacrifice to help my father get back on his feet? Did that mean he would automatically benefit from it?
I didn’t know what to think or believe anymore—wasn’t sure what was true or false, whether I’d been tricked or not.
Maybe this entire situation was messing with my head. Maybe it had affected me more than I cared to admit.
“Ravyn—”
I blinked back to the present at the sound of my father’s voice.
“Are you okay?” he asked, gripping my shoulders tenderly, his eyes boring into mine.
I must’ve zoned out while he was talking, hence the intensity of the concern flickering in his gaze. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“Good.” A faint grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It’s time.”
My heart sank into my chest, and my breath caught in my throat.
With his elbow locked in mine, Dad walked me down the aisle, our footsteps slow and reverent.
I wore the most genuine smile that I could muster as heads turned in my direction.
The sea of guests, dressed to impress in their impeccably tailored suits and elegant gowns, wouldn’t take their fuckin’ eyes off me.
I hated being the center of attention, but right now, that was all I was. All eyes were on me, watching my every step. Some stared with admiration; others just sat there with blank expressions and mean faces.
A number of our guests were businessmen, political leaders, and Bratva allies looking like sharks in suits. A low murmur rose within the crowd, especially amongst the ladies. I had no idea what they were gossiping about, and I couldn’t care less.
At the altar ahead, Lev stood poised, resplendent in a black suit and a fancy red tie. His gaze was pinned on me as I approached him with measured strides.
My father handed me over to this cruel man, nodded, and then turned around to leave. I’d never been more heartbroken in my entire life—never felt more defeated.
We stood at the altar, facing each other as the priest began the ceremony. When it was time to exchange vows, my pulse quickened, and I could hear the sound of my pounding heart.
I struggled to repeat those soul-crushing words after the priest, those words that felt more like a spell than a vow. My lips trembled, my heart ached, and my knees quaked where I stood.
Lev’s voice was icy as he recited his vows, sharp as broken glass.
“With the power bestowed on me, I now pronounce you, husband and wife,” the priest declared. “You may now kiss the bride.”
I braced myself for what was about to come next. Lev took my trembling hands and pulled me closer to him. His grip was firm, unyielding, like a silent promise of ownership.
My body stiffened when he reached forward and planted a soft kiss on my lips. For some bizarre reason, a jolt of electricity surged through my veins. This wasn’t disgust or repulsion. No. It was something else. Something darker, something I was too ashamed, too afraid to name.
The crowd erupted into a heavy round of applause, cheering and murmuring amongst themselves.
The kiss was quick but enough to send shivers down my spine. When I reopened my eyes, I met his gaze and saw the small, arrogant smirk he wore.
I smiled for the camera, waving at our well-wishers, and that was when I spotted him in the crowd. Viktor.
He stood there, dressed in black, a flicker of bitterness in his eyes. He looked at me with something between a stare and a glare, and that made my blood run cold.
This wasn’t my fault, and he had no right to pin it on me. I was forced into this; I didn’t have a choice. It was clear from his reaction—his anger and bitterness—that he wasn’t on board with this. I was familiar with the look of betrayal, and Viktor had that plastered all over his face.
It wasn’t my fault that he felt betrayed. He should be mad at his brother, not me. I was the victim here. At this point, the weight of both brothers’ attention was starting to choke the life out of me.
Obviously, this was going to be tougher than I’d thought.
***
Later that evening, the reception unfolded under the night sky, a crescent moon, and a canvas of stars. Overhead, lanterns hung in sweeping lines, bathing the garden in a warm, golden glow.
The light was soft, warm, and flickering against silver platters and crystal glasses. Every toast was a spectacle of wealth and influence, another reminder that I’d become a symbol, not a bride.
My cheeks hurt from all those plastic smiles I forced each time I received a compliment.
“Oh, you’re beautiful.”
“Oh, I like your hair.”
“You’re so pretty.”
Yadda, yadda, yadda. I was so exhausted from faking a smile all damn day. I couldn’t wait for it to end so I could just sleep it off.
Tables stretched across the lawn, adorned with white linen, expensive wine, all manner of delicacies, and polished silver. It was a stunning setting that concealed the ugly truth behind this gathering.
Every burst of laughter or round of applause that spread through the crowd tore at my heart because these people had no idea what I was going through inside. They made jokes and raised glasses in celebration of our union, unaware of how completely off their assumptions were.
Lev never left my side at the head of the table. He laughed at their jokes and responded to their questions like a very reasonable man.
What a devil!
He’d hold my hand, squeeze tightly against my fingers, and flash a spooky grin at me each time my mask of “happy bride” was starting to slip. That thing on his lips wasn’t a smile. It wasn’t a reminder either. It was a warning. And despite myself, I’d put the mask back on.
He’d just done that again, a few seconds ago, and his grip on my fingers was tighter than before. Beneath the table, I forced my hand out of his hold while still retaining my smile, fake as plastic.
My fingers hurt from the firmness of his grip. When I looked in his direction, the flare in my eyes was a stark contrast to the grin on my lips. He could tell that I was pissed, but neither of us broke character.
“Would you look at that,” a deep, husky voice cut through my thoughts, almost startling me. “The couple is staring into each other’s eyes with compassion.”
The guests at the table laughed, the ladies blushing, their manicured hands resting on their chests.
I would gladly trade places with any of those girls ignorantly smiling and thinking that I was the luckiest woman in the world. They had no idea.
“My husband has such amazing eyes,” I began, my lips curling into a broader grin, eyes shifting across as many guests as possible. “Sometimes, I just can’t help staring at him, thinking, How did I end up with this man?”
Again, they laughed, unaware of the irony in what I said.
Lev reached for my hand on the table and chipped in, “Staring at each other is like a thing we do.” His voice was calm and gentle.
“The eyes, they say, are the windows to the soul. And I, personally, am intrigued by the idea of looking into someone’s soul.
” He paused, then tapped my hand. “Especially one as beautiful as my wife’s. ”
Those gullible people laughed again. And the ignorant girls were busy making the “Awww” sound, saying he was so sweet and romantic.
Sweet and romantic?
Excuse me, girls, would you like to take my place as his wife? ’Cause I’ll be more than thrilled to pass him over to you, I thought to myself, wondering why nobody at this table could see past his lies and fake smiles.
He was a horrible person, and horrible people weren’t sweet and romantic. What the fuck was wrong with everyone?!
Now, their ignorance was just starting to piss me off.
As the laughter died down, another man spoke, his deep voice commanding attention. “You’ve found a wife, brother.”
I turned toward the speaker sitting across from us; everyone else did as well.
The man had been quiet the entire time, and throughout the whole reception, he had barely said a word.
It was him, Nikolai Tarasov—Lev’s favorite cousin.
I remembered him because Lev had introduced me to him earlier that night, when the night was still young.
Nikolai, from what I gathered, was the calm before the storm. He spoke less and listened more—based on my observations from how he carried himself tonight.
The man was nearly six feet tall with a physique that looked like he was built for war.
His short, dark hair was slightly tousled, and his icy gray eyes were so intense they could silence a whole room.
The jagged scar running along his jawline emphasized his ruggedness, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he might be even worse than Lev.
Lev was the devil I knew. Nikolai was the devil I didn’t know. And his gaze scared the hell out of me.
Nik glanced at me, then shifted his gaze to Lev and continued, “I hope you also find the happiness you deserve.”
The happiness he deserved? Were these people high on something? Because what the fuck was that supposed to mean?
Lev and his kind deserved suffering and agony, not a happily-ever-after.
“To the newlyweds!” Nikolai raised his glass.
“To the newlyweds!” the others echoed, glasses in the air.
As I sat there among these people, I couldn’t help thinking this was just the first step into something darker than I could imagine.
Was I ready for what was coming? How long would I keep this up—this pretense?
One thing I was certain of, though, was that this was only the beginning of together forever. And it was scary as hell.