Chapter 2
“She’s ready,” my mother tells Aleksy when he comes back into the room.
I look straight at Aleksy. “You need to tell Emilio. You’re putting my life at risk if you don’t.”
“He won’t notice.” Aleksy drags a hand over his smooth jaw.
“Am I just supposed to let him call me Dasha for the rest of my life?”
He shakes his head. “Say your vows. We’ll deal with everything else afterwards.”
“You don’t think telling him after will just piss him off more?”
He steps closer, clenching his fists at his sides. “Don’t question me, Liliya. Just do what I say.”
“Come on, honey,” my mom says. “It’s time.”
It’s time.
Time for me to be traded for peace, for power, for the Bratva.
Or die for it.
Aleksy walks me to the cathedral doors, and everyone turns silent when they open.
I claw at my throat, suffocating, as the “Bridal Chorus” begins.
For a moment, it’s like time stops, and I can’t move. My feet won’t physically step forward.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Aleksy warns, pulling me back into reality and extending his arm toward me.
I nudge him with my elbow, a silent fuck you that only the two of us sees, and then loop mine through his. If we weren’t in public, I wouldn’t dare do that. But Aleksy needs something from me.
I hold in my breath as we walk down the aisle, not even turning my head to look at the guests seated in the pews.
The priest stands at that altar.
A symbol of sanctity that I’m about to defile with lies.
When we reach him, Aleksy leans in to kiss my cheek. It takes everything I have not to push him away.
Aleksy offers his hand to Emilio.
Emilio takes it without even glancing in my brother’s direction. He shakes it dismissively, and Aleksy takes a seat beside my mother in the front pew.
As I stand across from Emilio and stare at him through the veil, he watches me with suspicion.
I shut my eyes, feeling like I can read his mind.
This isn’t the bride I signed on the dotted line for.
I keep my eyes closed, remembering the first and only time we’ve spoken.
It was two weeks ago at their engagement party. Emilio had hardly glanced or spoken to Dasha. When he did look in her direction, it was with cold glares, as if she were the one forcing him to marry her.
He wasn’t just quiet with her. He was silent with everyone, ignoring all small talk, even with the Lombardis. He only spoke when words were necessary.
It wasn’t until after dinner that he pulled Dasha aside. I crept toward them to eavesdrop. His tone was low, and I couldn’t make out his words. Dasha looked terrified at whatever he was saying, though.
When he was finished playing bully and turned to leave, he walked straight into me.
The air left my lungs, like I’d slammed into a concrete statue.
I stumbled back, catching myself at the last second before falling on my ass. As I slowly lifted my gaze to his, my heart hammered in my chest as my eyes met wicked ones.
They were dark and narrow, like he was already reading my soul.
I gulped in fear while taking in every inch of him.
His face was heaven, and his heart hell.
He was made for art with his sharp jawline and high cheekbones, peppered with scruff.
Chills spread over my body, and I couldn’t form words.
He didn’t speak, just towered over me and stared with those unsettling eyes. I gulped again, begging myself to run away, but I couldn’t.
There was something about his stare.
It was deadly, yes, but also different.
Emilio looked at me differently than he did Dasha.
He stared like I’d wronged him in another life and he’d been waiting for the right moment to punish me for it.
Since I couldn’t seem to run, I stood there and glowered at him.
“Be careful who you glare at, guaio,” he said, his tone low and lethal.
“What?” I asked—no, I squeaked out. “Is that a threat?”
His thick lip crooked up an inch. “Pray to whatever god you believe in that you’ll never have to find out.” He shook his head before moving around me.
I gasped when his shoulder collided with mine, pushing me back, and he charged out of the building.
While our conversation had been quick, it sparked a wildfire inside me.
There was also something more—relief that my sister was the one marrying him. Not me.
Being in the same room as him gave me chills. Hard pass on sharing a bed.
That night, I couldn’t sleep as I replayed our exchange in my head. Grabbing my laptop, I searched what guaio meant.
Trouble in Italian.
Was he calling me trouble … or warning me that I was already in it?
The priest speaking breaks me away from my thoughts. His voice sounds so distant since my ears are ringing. “We’re gathered here today …”
My gaze drifts to Emilio, standing tall in a black tux. His jaw is set, and his face is unreadable. He holds out his hand, stopping the priest, and immediately lifts the veil. To some, he may look like an eager man ready to see his bride.
But I’m no fool.
He knows I’m a fraud.
I take a breath so deep that it hurts. That deep breath slips through my lungs like smoke, and my heart races as recognition falls on his face. I brace for the chaos, for my possible death, for all hell to break loose.
But none of that happens.
At least not yet.
Emilio tips his head down, studying me and most likely plotting my murder in his head. The muscles in his jaw twitch, but his face reveals nothing.
I wait for him to announce I’m the wrong woman.
For him to call for my family’s deaths for trying to play him.
But he doesn’t.
Seconds pass, and I hear whispers around us.
The priest’s gaze bounces between us as he waits for one of us to say something.
Maybe I’m just paranoid.
Maybe he doesn’t know I’m not Dasha.
While I’ll never forget our run-in at the engagement dinner, it could’ve meant nothing to him. For all he knows, I’m his bride. Though my gut tells me I’m wrong.
His stare is intense, like he can see everything. Every lie, every thought in my head, every feeling.
He signals for the priest to resume, who stutters the first few words as he does.
“And, Dasha,” the priest says.
My heart stops, panic sweeping inside me.
“Liliya,” Emilio quickly corrects.
The correction silences the room as people wait.
I don’t dare look at my mother or Aleksy or anyone else.
The priest stutters again, studying us in confusion.
Emilio tips his head toward him, a silent proceed.
The priest clears his throat, nodding. “And, Liliya, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”
Freely?
Wholeheartedly?
Fuck no.
I hold in my scoff.
“Yes,” I whisper, hating the sound of my voice and shocked that I could even get that word out.
My heart speeds as I repeat the priest’s words, reciting vows that are nothing but lies.
Emilio does the same, his tone calm and deliberate, and his eyes never leaving mine.
When it’s time for the ring exchange, Emilio reaches inside his tux pocket to retrieve a small black velvet box and opens it, revealing two rings.
The first is a simple black band.
The second is the opposite of simple. A large rose-cut diamond on a gold band shines in the light.
I don’t have much time to admire the ring before he presses the black band into my hand. His rough fingers brush over mine, and goose bumps crawl over every inch of my body.
I nearly drop the ring in my unsteady hand. My throat tightens as I slip the band over his thick finger. He doesn’t let me off that easily. Right before I can release him, he curls his free hand around mine. I shudder as he keeps his hand on mine there for a moment. My skin burns hot at his touch.
He immediately tightens his hold.
A warning.
You belong to me now.
I own you.
I tense when he abruptly releases me. He snatches my hand to firmly shove the diamond ring on my finger, officially branding me as a Lastro. I stare down at my hand and admire the ring that sits on a spiraled pair of bands, fused into one.
It’s a ring for true love.
For fairy tales.
Not unions born on lies for power and money.
And then it happens, the moment I’ve been dreading since I made it past our vows alive.
The priest finally says, “You may now kiss the bride.”
All eyes are on us.
My body tightens, as I’m unsure of what Emilio will do.
No way in hell am I making the first move.
Everyone is quiet as his hateful eyes lock on mine.
Then, slowly, he steps closer.
I hold in a breath, close to fainting, when he cups the back of my head. His hand is large, nearly spanning my entire skull. He digs his fingers into my hair to yank me closer and then settles his hand along my cheek to hold me in place.
I shut my eyes for a moment but hurriedly open them just as his lips brush against mine.
My body relaxes as he kisses me.
That warmth I felt when he touched me turns into burning flames.
I moan into his mouth when he slips the tip of his tongue into mine. For a moment, I think there’s romance. But that doesn’t last long when he pulls away.
My eyes flash open, and I raise my head.
That wicked smirk from the engagement party is back on his face.
It’s a smirk that confirms I’ll face the consequences for this betrayal.
I am so fucked.