Chapter 3 - Valery
As we leave the church, soft white rose petals are thrown around us and cameras flash from every angle.
I squint against the onslaught, then remember I have to play the proper role of happy new wife.
I push a tight smile onto my face, hoping it looks genuine.
My heart is still racing. I can’t believe this is happening.
Jaroslav is standing next to me, as tall as ever, towering over me with his hand knotted in mine.
I’m fighting the impulse to pull it free and yell at him.
I can’t. I can’t embarrass my brothers like that.
Anger surges through me as I look at Jaroslav—because I was tricked into this.
Walking down the aisle kept repeating to myself that everything would be ok. Everything would be ok. I still couldn’t bring myself to look up at the man I was about to marry, but dammit, I wish I had.
Would it have changed anything?
Maybe.
No.
I still would’ve had to go through with it. I just hate the fact that I was blindsided.
The moment I saw him, that smile, that shine in his eyes, I knew he had planned this from the beginning.
He never intended to let me marry his brother; he just agreed to let them think that so I would say yes to the arrangement.
And now, standing outside the church in the hot early evening air, I’m doing everything I can to hold back the rage I feel toward him. My body is tingling with anger.
How dare he do this to me?
How dare he put me in that position?
He knew I wouldn’t be able to react in front of so many people.
Of course, I couldn’t. The church was packed with powerful mafia families, powerful allies, who would no doubt view my running from my wedding as a sign of weakness. My brothers would’ve been mortified.
This is for your family. I remind myself, stealing another sideways glance at Jaroslav. He looks exactly the same as he did when he broke up with me. The same beautiful smile. The same keen, intense stare.
And he still makes my heart race and my mind slip. He’s as gorgeous as ever with his tussled brown hair and those dark hazel eyes. His skin was still tanned bronze like a sun god. The eyebrow piercing is new, though. And I hate the fact that it makes him look even sexier.
Never mind how his body fits perfectly into that black tuxedo, sculpted over him like it was made to adorn a Greek god.
I drag my eyes away, annoyed with myself for appreciating the view.
People swarm around us, sharing their congratulations and shaking Jaroslav’s hand. I stay quiet and smile because I don’t trust my voice.
“You two make a beautiful couple,” someone says.
“May you have many happy years together.” Another guest remarks.
I’m doing my best not to look at him again because I’ll end up staring at his chiseled smile and that perfect square jaw line of his. I’m doing my best not to let memories haunt me, things that were never real to begin with.
Looking at him isn’t just an appreciation of how gorgeous he is…it’s a sinking whirlpool of heartache and confusion. He never did tell me why he dumped me.
It. Wasn’t. Real. That’s all there is to it. His love for me wasn’t real.
Because if they had been real, he would never have broken up with me. He would never have treated me that way.
He turns to look at me, feeling the burn of my eyes on him. “How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice a low whisper.
“Like I should’ve walked out of that church when I still had the chance,” I huff back, my face tilted down so no one can read my lips.
He chuckles, and it grates on me. What do you have up your sleeve, Jaroslav?
Another photographer fires a bright flash in my eyes, and I groan. Play nice. Play the perfect wife. This circus is just for today, for show. Then you can escape his presence, go home to your brothers, and pull your thoughts together when you’re alone again.
I can’t believe he did this to me.
The man who dumped me and shattered my heart is now my husband. What a cruel twist of fate it is to put me in this position.
It’s preposterous. I should never have agreed to this.
“Come, my beautiful wife, my guests, let’s celebrate,” he says, his voice loud, deep, and confident, addressing the crowd around us.
He pulls me to his side and slips his arm around my waist. His body heat soaks into me, and the delicious aroma of his cologne engulfs me in more memories. Dammit. I just want tonight to be over.
***
The reception is gorgeous. Baby blue and crisp white. Fairy lights and gentle music. It’s my dream wedding, but somehow still a nightmare.
All night, I maneuver around him, avoiding him, avoiding those soft touches that leave me rigid with tension. It’s a difficult task, though, considering that it is our wedding. And Jaroslav is intent on parking me around like some kind of trophy.
“Can I get you a glass of champagne, my beautiful wife?” he asks, brushing his hand over my arm.
“You don’t have to call me that when no one is around to hear it,” I whisper harshly.
He laughs, smooth like honey. “I didn’t call you that for the sake of other people, Valery. You are my wife,” he replies, matter-of-factly.
“Why?” I ask.
“What do you mean by ‘why’? It’s for the alliance.”
“Really? That’s it. Nothing else?” I’m getting agitated. I shouldn’t have started this conversation with him.
Before he can answer me, though, one of my brothers comes up to us. As far as they know, this is the first time I’ve ever met Jaroslav.
“Val, you look absolutely magnificent,” Matvei says, pulling me into a hug. “It’s a truly beautiful night.”
“It is.” I smile. “Everything is gorgeous.” I gesture around the wedding hall. “Did you guys plan it?”
“No,” Matvei laughs. “Jaroslav took full control of everything. He planned it all. Decor. Food. Everything.”
It’s just a coincidence that he chose baby blue and peonies. A total coincidence.
“Amazing. Perhaps he should change professions,” I say, unable to hide the sarcasm that slips into my voice.
Matvei’s eyes narrow as he glances at me, immediately picking up on my tone. I giggle and lean into Jaroslav, slipping my arm around his waist. “Because it’s exactly the wedding I would have dreamed of,” I add in a hurry. It seems to ease Matvei, and the smile returns to his face.
***
We are seated at our table after the first course has been served and the empty plates cleared away.
Jaroslav has his arm around the back of my chair, and I’m leaning slightly forward to avoid any kind of connection between us.
I can’t wait for this to be over. He has removed his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves up over his thick, muscular forearms, showing off the dark black tattoos I used to trace my fingers over.
A tall man who looks very much like Jaroslav grabs the microphone and holds his champagne glass up, tapping against the side of it to draw the guests’ attention.
“On behalf of Jaroslav, I want to thank you all for being here on this very special occasion. I know he will have a few words to say later, but in the meantime, my name is Bardil, I am his brother, for those of you who don’t know me, and I will be guiding you through this wonderful evening.
And we will be starting off our celebrations with the newlywed couple’s first dance as husband and wife.
” He gestures toward the open space between the tables as the lights dim romantically low with a single spotlight finding Jaroslav and me in the crowd, and a beautiful song starts to play.
My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach.
Jaroslav, on the other hand, looks thrilled. He stands up and pulls me to my feet, his smile wide and so convincing I might even believe he wanted all of this.
Of course, he wanted it. He planned it. You just need to figure out why.
He ushers me toward the dance floor, and in the center of a soft spotlight, he pulls me closer than I want to be.
“Dance like you love me, little raven,” he growls against my ear, flushing my body with desire.
For heaven’s sake, I wish my body would mind its own business. I’m trying to be angry here.
As the music plays, he takes control and, in slow, elegant movements, spins me, lifts me, holds me, and dips me.
During the dance, I forget everything. For a small moment, I forget people are watching us. I forgot what he did to me. I forgot to hate him.
But as the song comes to an end, someone in the crowd shouts, “We want another kiss.”
A quiet rustle of agreement runs through the reception, and the moment of peace is over. Replaced with panic.
Jaroslav wraps his hand around my jaw and tilts my face up toward his. “For our guests,” he says, then leans down and presses his lips against mine.
My body goes rigid.
My lips are tight, but he ignores them. He kisses me slowly, tenderly.
His tongue darts across my lips, and I can’t take it anymore.
I pull away and smile, stepping back from him, pretending to be shy.
The crowd claps, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
After our dinner, we have a very intimate moment in which we cut the cake and Jaroslav insists on feeding me a piece off a silver fork, then gently wiping icing off my lips with the pad of his thumb. I’m mortified, and I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
My body and my mind are in a constant battle. It’s so easy to slip back into my memories, the time when I believed he loved me. It’s so easy to be attracted to him. But how can I allow myself to do that? He is a dangerous man with hidden intentions. I have to be on the highest alert.
***
Finally, past midnight, Jaroslav leads me out of the reception toward a black limousine, waiting outside. Across the back window, someone has painted Just Married. Our guests follow us out to wave goodbye, and we leave.
And the night comes to an end. The pretend. The farce. The make-believe.
Sitting quietly in the dark in the back of the limo, I keep my face turned away from Jaroslav, toward the window.
I can feel his eyes on me. Burning into me.
“You can drop me at home,” I say curtly.
“We are on our way home, little raven,” he says smoothly.
“Don’t call me that, Jaroslav. That isn’t fair,” I snap at him. How can he use the fond nickname he had for me years ago? How can he not understand that it would hurt me?
He cocks his head to the side as I glare at him.
“I will call you what I want to call you.”
I roll my eyes. “Just drop me off at home, please. My home. Not yours.”
For the first time tonight, his eyes darken menacingly. “You are my wife, Valery. You will be living in my mansion.”
“That was never agreed.”
He pulls his phone from his pocket, and to my horror, he dials my oldest brother with the call on speaker so that I can hear the entire conversation.
“Matvei, it’s Jaroslav. We seem to have a slight misunderstanding, and I wanted to clear it up with you,” he says calmly.
“Sure, go ahead,” Matvei replies.
“Your sister is under the impression that she will be living with you, not me. From my perspective, a Bratva leader’s wife should live with him. What would the public perception be if she still chose to live in her brother’s home?”
There is a moment of silence, and I bite down hard on my lower lip. My heart is spinning wildly.
“Please tell her we will deal with this in the morning. Would you like me to speak with her?”
Jaroslav raises his brows at me.
I shake my head, fighting tears of anger. I expected Matvei to immediately say I could come home.
“That won’t be necessary. Thank you. Have a lovely evening,” Jaroslav says, ending the call.
He looks displeased. I think he expected Matvei to immediately say I would be living with him. Now we are stuck somewhere in the middle, in unknown territory.
We arrive at his mansion, where I will be staying tonight, no matter what tomorrow’s outcome brings. I push the car door open the moment it stops, not waiting for anyone to open it for me.
Unfortunately, my dress is so long and there are so many layers of fabric that I get stuck and can’t get out on my own, and I reluctantly need Jaroslav’s help.
He takes advantage of it and instead of just pulling me from the car, he lifts me into his arms and cradles me against his chest.
“I have to carry you over the threshold. It’s tradition,” he smirks. I know he’s just doing this to torture me.
“Put me down, Jaroslav. I won’t be honoring any of the wedding night traditions now that we’re away from the public eye,” I snap.
He laughs darkly and doesn’t do as I ask. Instead, he carries me into the mansion and only sets me down when he’s inside his bedroom.
“I’m not sharing your bed!” I shout, no longer able to hold my anger back. “I’m not living here. I’m not your real wife. None of this was part of the agreement.”
He cocks his head to the side and starts stripping out of his tuxedo with absolutely no restraint at all. I don’t know where to look as each layer of his clothing is peeled off.
“You may sleep wherever you like, then, little raven,” he says it as though he doesn’t care. But I can see the annoyance flaring in his eyes.
I bite hard down on my lip and bolt from his room just as he starts undoing the button of his pants. Seeing his perfectly sculpted abs was already too much.
Unfortunately, when I find a guest room, I realize that I can’t get out of this stupid dress on my own.
The delicate ribbons and clasps at the back are far too complicated.
I consider cutting it off my body, but that seems extreme, so with a pouted bottom lip, I climb into bed wearing the wedding dress.
I’ll get one of the housekeepers to help me out of it in the morning.
There is no way in hell I’m going back into his room to ask him to help me undress.