Chapter 33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
DINARA
Shock must be written all over my face because Kirill smirks, looking as smug as ever.
He leans close, his lips brushing my ear. “You did such a good job hiding your identity, solnyshko, but not good enough.”
He straightens, his gaze flicking to the priest as he responds, “I do.” His voice is steady, certain, like he’s been waiting for this moment.
“Why?” I whisper. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because this solves problems for both of us. You just don’t have the full picture yet, but you will soon.”
What the fuck does that mean?
The priest asks if I take Kirill Baronov to be my lawfully wedded husband, but I can barely process the words over the roaring in my ears.
“You tricked me,” is all I can manage to say.
“I think you’re the one who did the tricking, Dinara.” His grip on my hand tightens. “Now say ‘I do’ before I take you over my knee and force the words from your mouth with my hand on your ass.”
My breath comes in short, sharp pants. Is he serious?
My brain scrambles for the reason he would legally bind himself to a woman who works for another bratva.
Does he think the marriage protects him somehow?
That Pavel won’t retaliate against family?
Or is this about leverage, about having a Syndicate hacker on a leash he controls through vows and legal paperwork?
I don’t know, and the uncertainty makes my skin crawl.
Kirill’s expression is carefully neutral as he leans in again with a message meant only for me. “My hand is getting very, very itchy.”
I blink, coming to the slow realization there’s no easy way out. I could fight him. Make a scene, refuse, but to what end? He knows who I am. He has all the leverage. He’d do what he wants to me anyhow.
At least as his wife, I keep some illusion of control. Illusion being the operative word.
I take a deep breath and then seal my fate. “I do.”
Heat flares in his expression and I wonder what the hell I just got myself into.
Rings appear in Kirill’s hands. His is a simple platinum band, but the one he slides onto my finger takes my breath away. It’s an emerald-cut diamond, at least three carats, set in platinum with a halo of smaller stones. It’s elegant and timeless and it fits like it was made for me.
“It was my mother’s.” His eyes hold mine, serious now. “And now it’s yours.”
Air leaves my lungs in a rush. What does it mean he’s giving me his dead mother’s ring?
My hands shake as I slide the ring onto his finger, the simple platinum band a contrast to the heirloom now weighing down my left hand.
“You may kiss the bride.”
I barely have time to brace myself before Kirill’s hand is on my neck, tilting my head back, and then his mouth is on mine.
His mouth crashes against mine and this isn’t a chaste wedding kiss. This is claiming. Possessive and deep and absolutely obscene for a ceremony.
His tongue slides against mine and despite my spinning head, despite the shock reverberating through my system, I kiss him back. My hands fist in his jacket and I’m lost in it, lost in him, lost in the moment entirely.
He kisses me like I belong to him now. Like the ring on my finger gives him the right to take whatever he desires. And my body is responding like it agrees, heat flooding through me and making me forget why this is supposed to be fake.
When we break apart, we’re both breathless.
The room is dead silent. His brothers are staring at us with their mouths parted, like they weren’t expecting that level of PDA.
The priest looks faintly scandalized. Katya is the only one who’s clapping, her hands coming together in delighted applause like she just witnessed the most romantic thing she’s ever seen.
Kirill’s thumb brushes across my swollen lower lip and he smiles. “Hello, wife.”
Wife. The word sends a shiver down my spine.
Kirill keeps his hand on the back of my neck, his thumb brushing against my skin in a way that makes it hard to think straight. He turns us toward his siblings and I’m suddenly very aware that I’m about to meet his family as his wife.
“Katya,” he says, voice full of warmth. “Come meet Dinara.”
The young woman hurries over, practically vibrating with excitement. Up close she’s luminous, untouched by the darkness that seems to cling to her brothers.
“It’s crazy to meet at your wedding, but I’m so happy to be here,” Katya enthuses, pulling me into a hug before I can prepare myself. “Kirill doesn’t date, so when he called this morning and said he was getting married, I thought he was messing with me.”
“That seems to be a theme,” I grumble.
Kirill shoots me a subtle but clear warning look, reminding me to play along. I will. Not for him though, for her.
She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length and studying my face with those bright eyes.
“You’re so beautiful, I see why he was dying to lock you down.
And giving you Mom’s ring…” Katya’s eyes fill with tears and she fans her face.
“Sorry, I’m just emotional. I never thought I’d see anyone wearing it.
Kirill always said he’d never get married. ”
Guilt curls in my chest. If I feel like shit for keeping up this charade, Kirill should feel ten times worse, but when I glance at him, his conscience seems perfectly clear. Another indication he’s a sociopath.
“Turns out I hadn’t met the right woman yet,” Kirill says, his hand finding the small of my back. He presses a kiss to my temple that feels far too intimate. “Why don’t you two get to know each other?” he says. “I need to handle a few things. I’ll be back shortly.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me alone with his sister, who’s looking at me like I hung the moon.
Katya loops her arm through mine like we’re old friends. “So. Tell me everything. How did you meet? Where was your first date? When did you know he was the one?”
I silently curse Kirill for leaving me alone without so much as a script to follow.
“Seriously, Kirill told you nothing about us?” I ask, stalling while I figure out what’s safe to say.
A server materializes with champagne and Katya presses a glass into my hand and takes one for herself.
“You know my brother, he’s not the most forthcoming about his life.
You met at work, right? And it’s been a whirlwind romance and all that.
Oh, and I’m not supposed to breathe a word of this to our father.
” She makes a face, her feelings about Ruslan clear.
“As if I’ve exchanged more than a few words with that man in the past year.
We basically inhabit separate wings of the house. ”
My heart goes out to her. I can only imagine what it would be like having a monster like Ruslan Baronov as a father.
“We met at Velour,” I say, deciding to stick as close to the truth as possible. “I was working there as a server and he, well, he noticed me. I’m not sure if we ever really dated. There was this cosmic pull that kept bringing us together. Always. Like we were meant to be or something.”
As soon as I say them out loud, I realize every word is true.
“I know this is fast,” I start, but Katya waves me off.
“When you know, you know, right? I’m so happy he finally let himself fall in love. After our mother died, Kirill became the parent. Raised us, protected us, never let himself want anything for himself. I thought he’d be alone forever.”
Her words resonate. I understand the impulse to push away love. The need to protect yourself by never letting anyone get close. But he had siblings to look after, I had no one.
“I’ve always wanted a sister,” Katya says, grasping my hand in hers. “Our mother died when I was a baby. I grew up with all guys, and don’t get me wrong, I love my brothers, but it’s not the same. Except, now I have you.”
My throat closes. I know exactly what she’s saying, which is why guilt is eating me alive. Because I’m going to leave. Eventually, as soon as I can, I’ll disappear back to my real life and Katya will be left with another loss.
I can’t think about that right now.
“I lost my mother when I was young,” I say. “So I understand. I know what it’s like to grow up without that.”
Katya’s eyes soften with understanding before brightening with a new thought.
“What do you like to do? We should go shopping. I can show you all the best places in the city. Oh, and there’s this incredible bakery in the West Village that makes these Russian pastries that taste just like the ones our cook used to make when I was little. ”
She keeps talking, her words tumbling over each other in her excitement, and I feel something crack open in my chest.
Across the room, Kirill is deep in conversation with his brothers.
Their expressions are serious, their voices too low for me to hear.
But every few seconds Kirill’s eyes find mine, and what I see shining back at me isn’t a threat or warning, it’s tenderness.
It’s something that I’m not prepared for.
“So what do you do?” Katya asks, pulling my attention back. “Besides work at Velour, I mean. What are you into?”
“Oh. I’m a student at MTI. It’s really boring computer stuff, to be honest. What about you?” I ask, desperate to change the subject. “What are you interested in?”
“Music, mostly. I’ve been playing the piano since I was seven. I want to go to Juilliard, study performance there, but…” She trails off, her expression clouding. “My father has other ideas about what a Baronov daughter should be doing.”
I know the realities of her world far better than she can imagine. But I also know she probably has little power. “Maybe I could hear you play sometime? Do you perform often?”
“Sometimes. And I’d love that.”
Kirill appears at my side, his hand settling on my waist like it belongs there. “As much as I enjoy seeing you bonding, I need to steal my bride.”
“Already?” Katya pouts.
“You’ll have plenty of time with her later.” He presses a kiss to the top of his sister’s head and the gentleness of it makes my throat tighten.
Matvey and Demyan join us, both of them giving me measuring looks, probably because they know the truth.
“You better not keep her all to yourself,” Katya warns, giving me a final hug before embracing Kirill and waving a final goodbye.
Then it’s just the two of us in the suddenly quiet penthouse and the reality of it all crashes down hard.
“That was fucked up,” I say, swaying a little. The many glasses of champagne and high emotions of the day are finally getting to me, and despite myself, a tear falls down my cheek. What’s wrong with me? I should be stronger than this. It’s embarrassing to break down in front of him.
Kirill’s arms wrap around me, and he holds me steady. I shouldn’t allow him to comfort me, but it feels too good to pull away.
“ Milaya moya ,” he says softly. My sweet one. “You’ve had a long day, a long few days. Go to bed, everything we need to discuss can wait until morning.”
I straighten and square my shoulders, trying to salvage some dignity. “Just so we’re clear, I went through with this ridiculous marriage because I had no choice. But there will be no wedding night.”
His mouth curves and he raises his palms in surrender. “You have your own room. I won’t set foot in it.”
“Good.”
“Unless you beg me to.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “That’ll never happen.”
“We’ll see.” His eyes gleam with amusement. “Sweet dreams, wife.”
“Wait.”
He pauses, turning back to face me.
“What do you want from me?”
He faces me again, studying my face for a long moment. “Nothing you need to worry about tonight. Tomorrow we’ll talk about what comes next.”
“That’s not a helpful answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting tonight.” His expression softens. “I’m not your enemy, Dinara. If I were, you’d know it.”
Hearing my real name on his lips sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t know if his words are comforting but I do know I’m too exhausted to push further.