Chapter 5
Emilio yanks the wineglass from my hand. “That’s enough.”
I attempt to grab it back, but he presses his cold palm against my forehead and shoves me back into my chair.
Those are the first words he’s said to me since we arrived at the reception dinner. He’s spent most of the night acting as if I were invisible.
Not that I’m angry about that. I’d prefer he ignore me forever.
“Rude,” I mutter when he places the glass out of my reach.
The alcohol has given me a bravery I shouldn’t have.
Emilio sets a full glass of water where my wineglass was.
I harden my gaze on him in disapproval.
“Drink,” he demands. “Sloppy drunks are distasteful.”
I inhale the smell of his breath. It’s a sharp mix of mint and bourbon. I bite down the urge to say rude again … or something worse.
Normally, I’m not much of a drinker.
A glass of wine here. A margarita on occasion.
But tonight? Bring me the entire bottle.
I cast a glance at Aleksy and my mother, sitting at their table, and struggle to resist the urge to pick up the water glass and hurl it at them. All night, they’ve laughed and toasted—and without even checking on me once.
Aleksy dropped another bomb on me during the ride here. After this, I’m leaving here and going straight to my new home with my new husband.
I don’t get to pack my own bags. They’ll be waiting for me when I get there.
I look away from them to Emilio. He raises a brow as I lift the water to my lips and take a drink. I hold it in my mouth for three seconds before spitting it back into the glass.
It’s so unladylike.
The look he gives me could freeze hell.
My lips twitch into a smile.
He leans back in his chair, studying me like I’m a puzzle.
A puzzle he wants to rip apart.
Staring back, I fake a confidence I most definitely don’t have. I gulp, making the mistake of taking my husband in, remembering how gorgeous he is.
Before coming to the reception dinner, he ditched his tux jacket, now only wearing a black shirt with the top three buttons undone, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Why can’t my monster husband have horns growing from his head like the devil he is?
They do say the devil is alluring.
It’s how he draws you in.
This dinner is a snoozefest and reminds me more of a funeral reception than one for a wedding. It’s nothing like the weddings I grew up attending.
There’s no dancing, karaoke, or speeches. We haven’t even had a first dance. However, I won’t complain about that one. I’d rather dig my own grave with a spork than dance with Emilio.
I’ve texted Dasha a few times with no reply.
All she did was leave a note that said Sorry, I won’t marry him in the bridal suite before hightailing it.
Aleksy tracked her phone. It’s at the bottom of the Hudson River, hanging out with the fish, litter, and bodies people have forgotten about.
I grab the glass, my eyes on him, and pour the water into my mouth, not swallowing it again.
“Swallow the fucking water, Liliya, or I’ll pour it down your throat and watch you choke on it,” Emilio warns.
I count to five before spitting the water in my glass again, not caring if anyone is watching.
His jaw tightens as he scoots his chair closer to mine. “Don’t fucking test me.”
“I’ll drink more water …” I pause for dramatic effect and tap my French-manicured nails against the glass. “If I can sleep at my own home tonight.”
“You will sleep in your own home. Your new home.” Without breaking eye contact, he snatches the wineglass he confiscated from me earlier, raises it in a mock toast, and knocks it back. He smirks before licking his lower lip, slow and teasing.
Tingles shoot between my legs, and I press my thighs together.
“The home I grew up in,” I say tightly.
“Oh, that home?” he says with a cruel laugh. “No.”
“You had that arrangement with Dasha.”
“Are you Dasha?” He raises a thick brow as his gaze mockingly trails down my face to my cleavage.
“Obviously not.” I cross my arms and lean back, scowling. “She was smart and ran. Unfortunately, I didn’t.”
“Exactly.” He flashes a cold smile. “You’re still here, and my arrangement with her is irrelevant now.”
Stretching his arm along the back of my chair, he snaps my dress strap. I flinch at the sting and shove my shoulder forward to put distance between us.
He cups my shoulder to stop me, pressing me into the chair, and digs his fingers into my bare skin. “While some grooms teach their brides to fuck on their wedding day, here’s my first lesson for you.”
I attempt to pull away again, but he tightens his hold on me.
“I make the rules here, Liliya.” He lowers his head so that his lips are at my ear. “Every single thing you do from now on will be controlled by me.”
As he rears back, another grin tugs at his mouth. It’s one I imagine he gives his victims before he snaps their necks.
“It’s unfortunate I must inform you that I’m not a dog and I don’t follow commands,” I fire back.
“I’ll break that out of you. Trust me.” He snaps my strap again. Standing, he motions toward the server who’s kept my glass full all night.
The server scrambles toward us. “Do you need a refill, sir?”
Looking at him, Emilio juts a finger toward me. “If you serve her another drop of alcohol, I’ll break this glass and slit your fucking throat with it.”
Oh great.
Another trait of my husband: threatens innocent waitstaff.
“Uh … yes, sir,” the server murmurs, his tray now shaking above his trembling hand.
Emilio’s gaze hardens. “Good.”
He doesn’t pay me another glance as he walks away and heads straight to a round table draped in white linen. Antonio and his wife, Gigi, greet him, pretending they weren’t watching our exchange.
I offer the server an apologetic smile.
He nods stiffly, turns on his heel, and flees.
Shutting my eyes, I run Emilio’s words through my mind. “I’ll break that out of you.”
There was a reason Aleksy chose Dasha to marry Emilio at the beginning. Prior to her running off, she was the obedient sister. Even when Aleksy told her about the engagement, she cried, but didn’t argue.
But me?
I’m the opposite.
Emilio is about to find that out.
Before we leave the reception dinner, Aleksy tells Emilio he’d like to speak with me privately and say his goodbyes.
Yes, he told Emilio, as if my new husband must grant permission to who I can speak to now.
Instead of taking me to a room, Aleksy leads me outside. We walk through the rain, straight to his black Bentley.
It’s new. A promotion gift for himself.
For a sliver of a moment, I have hope in my brother as we slide into the Bentley.
Maybe he’ll take me home.
Ha. Who am I kidding?
Aleksy locks the doors before peering into the back seat, checking if the coast is clear. “Liliya, I need to tell you something very important.”
I turn in the leather seat to stare at him. “What?”
“The family needs something from you.”
“Nope.” I shake my head so hard that I’m surprised my neck doesn’t snap. “I’m all favored out.”
“Not a favor,” he corrects, the words gritted through his clenched teeth. “A demand.”
“I’m all demanded out as well. Try again next year if I’m still alive.”
Leaning in closer, he levels his elbow on the console to get into my face. “It’s a demand from Dedushka.”
I force down a breath, meeting his gaze, but not saying a word.
Our dedushka, Rurick Morozova, is only mentioned in serious conversations. He’s not like your typical grandparent.
He started the Morozova Bratva family decades ago. While he rules in Russia and rarely comes to the States, he still controls most aspects of the family affairs here. He told Aleksy he had a year to prove he could run the family successfully or he’d replace him.
“He said it’s your duty to do as the family says. As he says,” Aleksy adds.
I turn my head, creating distance between us, and stare out the window. My throat turns dry. “What’s my duty? Is marrying a murderer not enough for you men?”
“You’re going to kill Emilio,” he states with no bullshit in his tone.
I turn my head, staring at him in shock. “You want me to murder the murderer?”
His lip slightly lifts as he slowly nods.
I wait for him to laugh.
To tell me he’s messing with me.
But he doesn’t.
He looks just as serious as when he told me I was the new bride.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I hiss. “That’s a death sentence.”
“Not if you’re careful.”
“Aleksy, did you forget who the Lombardis are? They’re not stupid. If I or anyone kills Emilio, they’ll hunt down whoever is to blame.”
Aleksy sighs in annoyance, as if I were saying no to letting him borrow a jacket, not freaking murder.
“Listen, I know this is asking a lot. But look at it this way: Murdering him is your ticket out of the marriage. You become a widow, who will then choose her own husband. All we need from you is this one simple favor.”
I stare coldly at him. “No.”
“You don’t have a choice in this. It’s final.” He kisses my forehead, as if that seals our deal. “Make the family proud. You’re the future matriarch of the Bratva, Liliya. Make your husband happy. Get his guard down. Then, kill him.”