Chapter 18 - Addison
“Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.” – Aristotle
A small orchestra played next to the stage, dramatic lights hung from the ceiling and white mist rose from white flowers lined up along the way.
The décor had been Mark’s idea. Much to my surprise, he wanted a dramatic theme after I suggested something mellow.
I had to hand it to him; the man sure knew how to plan an event. It was elegant and stylish, and no expense was spared.
I plucked at my dress and fanned my cheek. The air conditioning was working perfectly, but I was hot, burning inside. I had woken up with a mixture of nervousness and excitement and had a rush of emotions.
I could not believe it. I was going to do this. I was going to marrying a man I barely knew yet carried his baby. But a feeling deep inside me assured me that everything would be okay.
When I slipped into my wedding dress, the moment had been even more surreal. The custom-made dress was breathtaking. The intricate details hugged my body perfectly and made me the image of a perfect bride. Maeva had outdone herself.
The skirt flowed elegantly and created an enchanting silhouette. Every time I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t help but smile. I felt like a princess, even though my prince had woken up from a nightmare.
“You look so pretty, honey.”
The compliment came from the man with the salt and pepper hair standing next to me. I turned to face him with the biggest smile on my face, and I threw my arms around him, grateful that he was well enough to be here.
“Thank you, Dad.”
His embrace was immediate and firm. His arms went around my waist and he offered me his shoulder to rest my head on. I sniffled to stifle the tears. Mark would have had a terrible scowl on his face if I”d ruined my makeup.
Dabbing a handkerchief under my eyes, I straightened, and Mr. Robert flashed a reassuring smile before heading off to his reserved seat. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
He beamed, the wrinkles around his gray eyes crinkling even more, as he patted his elegant double-breasted suit jacket. “I wasn’t going anywhere, honey. I’m alive and kicking.”
“But you gave us such a scare.”
Leaning forward, his gaze softened, and he kissed my forehead. “I’m here now, mi preciosa, and I won’t lie, I thought that I wasn’t going to make it. Such a good thing I have a fighting spirit.”
Immediately, after the incident with Logan, we ordered a stop on the medications my father was given and got the doctor fired. Mark recommended—no, deployed two of the world’s finest doctors to supervise the progress of my dad’s health.
His recovery had been speedy and soon enough, he was able to recognize his environment. And now he stood here, looking dashingly handsome as he waited to walk me down the aisle.
He was staring at my dress. “Are you comfortable?”
Laughter bubbled out of me, and I fanned my cheeks again. “I am, I am. I just can’t believe it; I’m getting married.”
“I can’t believe it either.“ The proud smile disappeared from his face, and I knew why the sudden concern arose.
“Dad, don’t start.”
“Don’t start what?”
I huffed. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. We had gone through this banter for two weeks after he had regained the strength to speak.
Nudging him lightly, I wore a small smile, silently dissuading him from continuing the discussion.
“Today’s my wedding day.”
His sight traveled to the orchestra with scowl on his lips and rubbed his forehead.
“You are getting married to Mark Varkov.”
I sighed. Here we go again. “I know he’s not the man you wanted for me—”
“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, darling. He lives in a world where it”s normal for bullets to fly across the breakfast table. He”s dangerous, sweetheart. Men like him—”
“Men like him can marry women like me, Dad.” I held his hand, interlaced our fingers, and gave him a smile that I knew turned his heart to jelly. “Mark may not be an accountant or a lawyer, but he’s a businessman. Not all his dealings are dishonest. He’s intelligent, loyal, and has a heart —even if it’s made of granite and ice.”
This caused a smile to appear on my father’s face. “I”m just looking out for you. I wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything happened to you.”
I knew how much my father loved me and cared for me. But even then, it was undeniable that Mark was protecting me and our unborn baby with all his might. It was like a fact that hovered in my subconscious: Mark would never hurt me.
“I know. But I want this; I want to marry him. And I know it doesn’t make sense to you or to me, but nothing else feels right. We might be the most unusual couple, but I have a deep conviction inside me. Like I belong out there, with him.”
Suddenly there was silence in the ballroom and a door opened at the front. From where we stood, I spotted him over the heads of the crowd, and my heart flipped in my chest.
The suit, impeccably tailored, hugged his powerful frame. His presence dominated the room. He stood tall and statuesque, like a Greek god. A very handsome and sexy god.
With his razor-sharp cheekbones, styled dark hair that touched his collar, and one hand tucked in his pocket—as always—he combined strength, elegance, and sophistication. While Yuri focused on his phone, his eyes scanned the room. And I knew who he was searching for.
And when his eyes found mine, flames danced below my belly, and I smiled. The orchestra started up again, but I didn’t take my eyes off him. We shared a steamy eye contact and remained hooked, like two relentless drug addicts.
“You love him.”
Startled, I faced my father. “What?”
He motioned to Mark, who was standing on the stage and just glanced at his watch, and I couldn’t help but smile even more and almost laugh out loud. Mr. Precision, I was sure he was timing me.
“The way you look at him, and your cheeks are on fire.” I blushed and patted my hand with an exhale. “I trust you; I know you’re making the right decision. And if it is him your heart has chosen, I’ll support it.”
I could barely hear him after the words had left his lips. I hadn’t given it much thought. Love is a strong word, I knew Mark desired me, my body, but would he be able to love me as a whole person? Could I love him? After my last disastrous relationship, I wasn’t even sure what love really meant. What we had was enough, I was content with the level of affection he gave me.
Mr. Robert signaled us. It was time to walk down the aisle. With tears on my eyelids, I hugged my father one last time and he kissed me on the temple.
“Te amo, mi amore.” [I love you, my love]
****
I vow to stand by your side, to protect you with my life, and to make every one of your dreams come true.
He said it with intense passion, holding my gaze and my hands as he emphasized every word that came out of his mouth. Then he sealed it with a fierce kiss that marked me. Proclaiming that I was his.
We stood together at the reception, hand in hand, as we worked the room; greeting everyone he introduced as an important guest.
My feet hurt, but he held me tight and gently rubbed the small of my back. When I looked up, startled by his tenderness, he stared straight ahead with a poker face.
“Let’s introduce you to the rest of the family,” he said softly and led me to a group of people standing by a high table; the men, all tall and well-built, dressed alike in matching black suits, while the women flashed pretty colors, all except one.
She had fiery red hair and wore a black dress with a thigh-high slit and a long back neckline that revealed flawless fair skin. And when she turned around, the blue in her eyes was as piercing as my husband’s.
His family exuded dominance and intimidation. Everyone else in the room seemed to give them space. No one wanted to cross their parts. I rubbed my arm; anyone could feel the chill from across the room.
“Damien, Viktor ...” he called out and the rest of his words rolled out in fluent Russian. They exchanged glances, and the taller one with the dark eyes and the tattoos on his neck, whose name was Viktor, grinned after glancing at me.
More words went back and forth, and I couldn’t understand a word. Then, out of nowhere, Mark turned to me and kissed me with a clown”s grin on his face.
I was stunned. And even more so when Damien stretched out a hand.
“It’s nice to finally meet the woman who managed to win my brother’s heart.”
My cheeks flushed and I took his hand in a firm grip.
Damien was nice, friendly and had a witty sense of humor. The resemblance between him and Mark was striking. Although Mark reminded us of their differences as soon as he opened his mouth. He was sharper, funnier and had a wry sense of humor.
Viktor, on the other hand, was gruff but also had funny traits. I learned that his patience had been thinned years ago, before he became the boss of the business. His fuse was always blown. But not with his wife. Never with her or his son. Around them, he was the biggest marshmallow.
The men teased the sweet side he reserved for her, and I saw Mark throw glances at me in between the conversation. Ava, Viktor’s wife, wasn’t in the circle but I spotted her at the food section with a little boy in her arms. His name was Avian and looked a lot like his father.
The last person I was introduced to was the first woman I saw at the table. Bright red hair, a killer dress and a stunning body that could pass for a supermodel.
“Irina, meet Addison. Addison, Irina Varkov.” Mark introduced us more solemnly than with the men, and I understood why. This was her, another victim of Logan Mercer’s evil machinations; his wife before he even thought of proposing to me. I had felt her pain, knew what it was like to be betrayed by someone who meant the world to you, and wondered what was going through her mind as she stood before me with a ghost of a smile on her lips. Before I could stop myself, the words were already spilling out of my mouth.
“I’m so sorry.”
She raised an eyebrow and looked from Mark to me, and I glanced at him. He nodded curtly and urged me to continue.
“I know about Logan.”
Her expression changed from unimpressed to blank. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I heard what happened to him.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and felt a little uncomfortable. A week ago, the news reached us. Logan died in one of the cells Mark had thrown him in. And it was even worse when we learned the truth behind his sudden demise. He killed himself.
“I should be sorry too.” Irina’s voice reeled me back. “The bastard could never stop with his games, could he? He got you too?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. Talking about Logan was not as sore as I imagined it to be. “Almost did. We were engaged.”
The blue in her eyes twinkled and she fixed it on Mark. “Well, then, thanks should go to the knight in shining armor that saved you from destruction.” She threw her head, gulping a mouthful of white wine in her glass. “You deserved better than that jerk.”
“You too, Irina.”
****
Noon soon turned to night and the moon came out, shining brightly with a blanket of stars spread across the sky. I stood by the window, wrapped in a bathrobe, a large purple towel wrapped around my hair and air pods in my ears as I gazed out at what was now officially mine. I would never look at the motor pool or the first floor the same again. Instead of being afraid of being chased by men in black and speeding cars, I now had, as Mark had called it, the authority to have everything at my command and disposal.
My thoughts drifted to Maria, wondering what she was up to. When she didn’t hear from me for a while, she took a gap year, and went backpacking through Europe. I was sad that she didn’t come to the wedding but understood her reservations and lack of money.
Adele’s voice echoed in my ears with a thrilling high pitch, and I closed my eyes, slowly moving my hips to the rhythm and singing in tune with the lyrics. When strong arms suddenly wrapped around me from behind, I jumped out of my skin.
His deep, rich laugh vibrated on my skin, and I felt every tense muscle in me relax. He smelled like a mixture of soap, vodka, and musk. My back nestled against his front.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.”
He shrugged and kissed the sensitive spot below my earlobe. My toes curled on the carpet, and I threw my head back and rested on his shoulder. “Why?”
Was he serious?
“You could give someone a heart attack?”
“Highly unlikely. One in a million chances.” My ever so precise husband replied. There was a deep silence as if he were thinking about something. Then he murmured something that sounded like a curse in Russian and pressed gentle kisses on my neck.
“I need to tell you something, I ...”
I could already feel the simmering below my belly and the small flames flickering in my chest. Warmth spread between my thighs and the hairs on my skin stood on end.
“You, what?”
His grip tightened and he rasped. “Te amo.”
My eyes flew open, and I pivoted three sixty degrees on my heels to look him in the face. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. The weight of those eyes was as heavy as his arm around my waist, but there was something deeper in those midnight eyes. A vulnerability that mirrored my own.
“I never thought I”d hear you say those three words,” I whispered with a trembling voice.
“Two.”
“What?” My breath hitched, then I giggled. “Oh, right.”
“Hmm.” He grunted and waited for me to say something else.
I put a hand on my chest. “You love me?”
He rumbled. “Okay, in English. I love you, hermosa.”
I found it hard to believe that all this was real. Many thoughts flashed through my mind at the same time. Mark Varkov could love. And he chose to love me.
His brows narrowed and his lips curved downward. “Addison?”
“Hmm …What?” My mind was spiraling.
“You aren’t saying anything. Do you want me to say it in the other languages too?”
That was the moment I decided whether I was ready to trust again or not. Whether I was ready to love again. And when he held me close and kissed my nose like I was a delicate flower that needed all the care and attention, that was all I needed to make the final decision. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Well, … because … I love you too. Te amo.”
His arms froze around me and he looked at me calmly. Then he said, “You love me.”
“Yes, I do, Mark.”
With a wry grin, he said: “You’re not just saying it because you think I’ll tie you up in the basement and feed you stale bread if you don’t say it back.”
“God, no.” I laughed, shook my head, and purred in his ear. “I’d rather you tied my hands to the bedposts tonight. And I love it when you speak Spanish to me, but you could also whisper all the other languages in my ear, but if—” He pressed his thumb on my lips.
“Two words: Shut up. Three words: You. Me. Bed.” His lips covered mine and he carried me to bed. He cradled my head, cupped my cheeks, and kissed me gently, as if he feared I would break.
I smiled and felt warm and cozy inside. Irina was right; I deserved better. And then came Mark with the smart and sexy mouth, the styled, thick hair, and no-nonsense attitude.
Made just for me.
I didn’t belong in the world of the mafia like he did. But I belonged in his arms.