20. Arsen
20
ARSEN
Laila is trembling like a leaf in my borrowed sweats. She keeps peeking over at Dominik like he might whisk her off the altar and away from all of this.
If Father Orlov doesn’t pick up the pace, I might decide to call the whole thing off.
“Father,” I interrupt when he starts in with yet another Bible verse, “let’s cut to the chase here.”
Father Orlov blanches, but he closes his Bible. His lips move silently—probably offering up a prayer for my poor, ruined soul. I won’t tell him that it’s been a lost cause for a long time.
Truth be told, I’m not sure why I asked him to be here at all. My mother always hoped I’d be married in a church, but I’m not one of those people who believe the dead are watching over us. Even if my mother is up there somewhere, she’d be too ashamed to show up to this fucking charade.
Father Orlov lays the legal documents in front of Laila. “It’s time to sign, my dear.”
She’s chewing on her lip, staring down at the paper like it might bite her if she gets too close. “I guess this makes it official.”
“Only in the eyes of the law,” Father Orlov says helpfully. “The vows you’re about to repeat, though—those will make it official in the eyes of the Lord.”
“I’m not sure the Lord is watching this one,” she mutters, bending over to sign her name at the bottom of the page.
Father Orlov sweeps the papers away from Laila the moment she’s signed and presents them to me. “Arsen.”
I sign without hesitation, my scrawl sweeping across the page. “I think we can do without the vows.”
Father Orlov looks horrified. “You have to! The promises you two make to each other before the Lord are—they’re everything marriage is. I’ve never— I can’t sign this paper without?—”
“Say your vows and put the poor man out of his misery,” Dominik grumbles from behind me.
“Didn’t you get the memo, Father?” Laila quips miserably, rubbing her baby bump. “Arsen isn’t the traditional type.”
Up until now, Father Orlov has done a remarkable job of ignoring the evidence of our premarital intercourse, but his face flushes crimson as his eyes shift from Laila’s stomach to my face. If I push him too hard, I might turn this wedding into a funeral.
“Make it fast,” I sigh. “It’s late.”
“Whose fault is that?” Laila says under her breath.
“Someone who despises both of us, apparently.”
I turn my eyes to the pale-faced priest as he clears his throat. “Do you, Arsen Adamov, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Father Orlov asks. “In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for as long as you both shall live?”
Laila is staring down at the ground, hiding behind her curtain of sunshine gold hair. On a sudden, stupid spurt of impulse, I reach out and grab her hands.
She wants me to be traditional? Fine. I can be traditional.
Her wide eyes snap to mine and, would you look at that? I have my very own blushing bride.
I meet her gaze. “I do.”
She arches a brow in challenge. Is it possible to object at your own wedding? Knowing what I know about her, I wouldn’t be surprised.
But when Father Orlov asks the same question of Laila, she just shrugs and nods. “Sure, why not?”
Oh, this little she-devil. I can’t get mad—not here, not now, not like this. I’m making it too obvious where my buttons lie and how easily she can push them.
Father Orlov clears his throat once again and takes a step back. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Arsen, you may kiss your bride.”
There’s a disbelieving snort behind me—Dominik, I’m sure—as Laila starts to shake her head.
I don’t have to play along. I could end this now without doing further damage to my morose little bride. But the monster in me is greedy.
So I growl, “Sure, why not?”
And then I claim her.
I close the distance between us before Laila can refuse. With one arm banded around her lower back and a hand cradling her cheek, I lower my mouth to hers.
The regret is instantaneous. The second she gasps against my lip, her full mouth parting to give me better access, the beast I thought I tamed is wild again. One night with her wasn’t enough. A million nights with her might not be enough.
This poor priest is witnessing the most unholy union ever made.
I drag Laila’s body against mine, the child we created protected between us, and dip her low. I sweep my tongue into her mouth, tasting her for the first time in way too fucking long.
I’m waiting for her to claw my face or send a knee between my legs. To hiss, to scream, to fight. Instead, her hand fists in the collar of my shirt… and she pulls me closer.
I do , her touch says. I take this man.
I’m seconds away from absolutely ravaging her right on this rickety excuse for an altar… when someone coughs.
Laila’s tongue dances across my bottom lip and her fingers are snaking up my neck, but I force myself to break the kiss. I grip her hips and gently ease her back, making sure she’s on steady footing before I release her and step away.
Her eyes are glassy, her lips swollen. I was right to stay away for so long. This thing between us is too messy. Too dangerous to touch.
It would be so much easier if I could hate Laila the way I hated Natascha.
She presses a hand to her lips. “I…”
Her voice trails off and she lets the sentence slip away unfinished. Then she turns, finally making a run for it.
Too late for that, though. The damage is done.
Dominik steps into her path and puts his hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
If she responds, I don’t hear it. She hurries out of the room without a backward glance.
Father Orlov is beyond ready to leave this chaos behind. He’s white-knuckling his Bible like he’s never seen such devil-minded heathens before.
He might be right.
I show him to the door. “Thank you for being here on such short notice, Father.”
“Thank you for giving me the… honor.” He takes one last look around the house. “The last time I was in this house, your mother was still with us. It’s nice to see that you’ve left it as she intended.”
“Father, it goes without saying that what happened here tonight?—”
“—is confidential,” he finishes. “I understand that. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He’s halfway out the door when he turns back. “Your mother was a fine woman, Arsen. She would have been happy to know that you were married by a priest. It was always so important to her.”
I incline my head and watch him leave. If my mother was right and there is an afterlife where she can look after me, I hope she was looking the other way.
When I walk back inside, I hear low voices in the living room. Gedeon and Dominik are close together, speaking softly. Their voices cut off when I enter the room.
“Don’t stop on my account,” I drawl. “In fact, head on up and wake Laila. I’m sure she’d love to get in on this, too. Since you are all so close.”
Dominik’s hands clench into fists. “Where do you get off being pissed at me?”
“Alright now.” Gedeon steps between us. “It’s late. None of us have slept in a long time. Maybe we should table this conversation until?—”
“You gave her no freaking warning!” Dominik explodes. “You dragged her out of bed without an explanation and coerced her into marriage!”
“My wife is none of your business.”
“You might be right there,” he spits. “But my friend is my business.”
Now, my hands are balled into fists, too. “What are you trying to say?”
“That I know Laila a little better than you do, and you didn’t need to do this.” He leans in, hissing between his teeth. “She would have agreed to marry you if you’d given her some time.”
“You know we don’t have that luxury.”
He snorts. “What I know is that you did it like this so you can pretend this was all part of the plan and she means nothing to you. But good fucking luck with that now. That woman is your wife, and you’re going to have to face your feelings sooner or later.”
Later .
I choose later.
“Leave,” I snarl. “Your job is done for tonight. Go home and get some sleep. For your sake, I’ll forget this conversation happened.”
Dominik scowls, ready to keep arguing. But Gedeon gets between us again. “I’m sure Kira’s wondering where you are, Dom.”
“Yeah… Yeah, I’m going.” He turns to leave and is almost to the door before he twists around. “Laila is not Natascha, Arsen. She won’t be distracted by money and pretty things. She doesn’t care about that shit. She cares about people. If you let her, she’ll care about you, too.”
I hear what Dom isn’t saying.
Caring about me is a dangerous game. Most people who play end up losing.
I wait for the door to slam in the distance before I turn to Gedeon. “How much did you all drink while Laila and I were outside?”
Gedeon chuckles. “Not enough to justify that parting speech, if that’s what you’re wondering. I think it was heartfelt.”
Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of.
“They’re friends,” Ged sighs. “You’re used to doing things a certain way, and we know that. The trouble is, we’ve been watching Laila for eight months. She’s… nice .”
“I didn’t hogtie her on the altar. There wasn’t a gun to her head. She was here because she wanted to be.”
Because she wants to be in our daughter’s life.
Which means she’ll be in my life.
“Oh, fuck me.” I drag a hand down my face. “Maybe I could’ve handled things differently, but Laila knows who I am.”
“But do you know who she is?” He lays a heavy palm on my shoulder. “I think it’s time you stopped using Dom and me as your go-betweens and got to know your wife.”
“I don’t usually want to punch you and Dom on the same night.”
He tosses his hands up like he doesn’t mind either way. “It’s your wedding night, brother. You should be upstairs with your new wife. Not down here arguing with me.”
“This marriage isn’t for the long haul, Gedeon. It’s just a temporary measure to ensure her safety. It’s not for real.”
Gedeon shrugs. “That doesn’t mean you can spend the whole marriage avoiding her. In fact, this thing might work a lot better if you don’t.”
I glance towards the staircase that leads to Laila’s room.
I hate it when they’re right.