Accidentally Marrying The Bratva Boss (Accidentally Marrying #8)

Chapter 1

One

Nadia

“I’m getting married.”

I stare at my best friend across the neon-lit table of the overpriced Reno bar we’re sitting at. “Babe, you’ve known the guy for like three hours.”

“Four,” Leah corrects, grinning like a lovesick fool. “And when you know, you know.”

I shake my head. “You know nothing. You’re nuts.”

She beams wider. “I’m in love.”

I wag a finger in her face. “Wait till I call your mom.”

She shakes her head, still smiling huge, eyes dreamy. “George is amazing. Mama will love him.”

I roll my eyes. George, the man in question, is at the bar, taking care of our tab. He does seem nice, and just as taken by my bestie as she is by him. God save us from fools in love.

“Leah. Babe. Listen to me.” I take her hand. “You can’t marry a man you only met hours ago at a casino.”

She answers without looking at me, her gaze fixed on her betrothed. “Why not?”

“Uh, because that’s how you end up on a true crime podcast?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m realistic.”

“You’re boring.”

I sit back. “Wow. Okay.”

“I don’t mean it like that.” She turns to face me, squeezing my hand. “I just mean… when was the last time you did something fun?”

“I came to Reno with you on a girls’ weekend. That’s fun.”

“Honey, it’s just a weekend, one hour away from home. I’m talking about something big.”

I scoff. “Like marrying a stranger?”

“Exactly!” she winks at me.

“You need a good night of sleep… or a straitjacket,” I finish under my breath.

At that moment, George walks over, grinning. He wraps an arm around my best friend’s shoulders.

Shit, they do look cute together.

“So, Leah told you the news?”

I force a smile. “She did. Congratulations on your extremely impulsive decision.”

He laughs, blissfully ignoring my grumpy tone. “I know it’s fast. But when you know, you know, right?”

Really? Him, too?

“Sure.”

Leah stands, leaning into her guy. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I ask.

“Get married, duh.”

I blink from one of these two idiots to the other. “Now? Like right now?”

George jumps in, “There’s this place down the street. They do group ceremonies. It looks really cool!”

“Leah…”

“Please, Nadia.” She gives me big puppy-dog eyes. “Come with. I need my bestie.”

Fuck. I can’t say no to that. Plus, I might still have a chance to stop this train-wreck.

“Fine. But for the record, this is a terrible idea.”

She laughs, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Noted.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, we’re standing inside the most kitsch wedding venue I’ve ever seen. Everything is pink. Pink walls. Pink flowers. Pink chandeliers.

There are couples milling around. Some in full gowns and tuxes, others in jeans and T-shirts.

Leah and George are talking to a woman at the front desk, filling out paperwork.

I’m standing off to the side, with my arms crossed, wondering how I’m going to explain this to Leah’s mother.

Hi, Ms. Thompson. Yes, your daughter got married in Reno to a man named George. No, I don’t know his last name. Yes, they were sober. No, I couldn’t stop her.

Great.

At that moment, a commotion near the entrance makes me turn.

The door slams open, and a man stumbles in.

And what a man… He’s ridiculously tall and broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair, wearing an expensive-looking suit that’s a bit disheveled.

Hot as shit. Big-guy type of hot. With thick thighs stretching the fabric of his slacks, a massive chest, and bulky arms even under his suit.

And his face. Good God… He’s not pretty.

No, he’s all sharp cheekbones, scruffed jaw, and rugged, manly handsomeness.

The type of man who ruins panties and breaks hearts in his wake…

He’s looking around with wild, sharp eyes. Then his gaze lands on me. I watch as he moves fast… in my direction! And before I can react, he grabs my arm, shoves me inside the photo booth in the corner, and yanks the curtain shut behind us.

“Hey! What the…”

“Be quiet.” His voice is low and gravelly. Sexy as fuck.

We’re crammed into the tiny space, his huge body pressed against all that’s me. I’m a big girl, but next to this man, I almost feel small. The heat of him, his hard muscles against my soft curves…

“What the fuck…”

“I said, be quiet.” He’s staring at the curtain, breathing hard.

I open my mouth to yell, but he clamps one of his big hands over it. Asshole!

His eyes meet mine. They’re dark, intense, and cold as ice. Fuck, why is that also hot?…

“Some people are looking for me. And you’re going to help me blend in,” he orders through a whisper that’s all raspy voice and warm breath fanning my face.

I glare at him for a beat before giving in, nodding. He holds my gaze with a raised eyebrow, then slowly removes his hand.

Should have bitten him… or licked him… Oh, my God, Nadia, focus!

As soon as he lets go, I whisper-shout, “I’m not helping you do anything, you psycho. Let me out.”

Shit, this giant could snap me like a twig, but he’s also getting on my last damn nerve!

“Can’t do that, lady.”

Lady?

“Don’t call me lady.”

“Fine. What’s your name?”

“None of your business.”

He smirks. Actually fucking smirks. And of course, because life is fucking unfair, he looks even more amazing doing it.

“Feisty, I like that.”

“I don’t care what you like, asshole. Let. Me. Out.”

“Not yet.”

Our bodies are pressed together on the narrow seat of the photo booth. We’re both breathing hard, glaring at each other. Then his eyes drop past my face, my neck. Lower, lingering on my generous chest.

I snap my fingers in his face. “Eyes up here, buddy.”

His gaze lifts, the stupid, sexy smirk deepening. “Hard not to look.”

“Try harder.”

He leans closer. Way too close. Giving me a perfect close-up of his full lips, strong nose and jaw, and deep brown eyes… And now I can smell his cologne. Great. It’s fucking delicious. Addictive. All woodsy, manly, and shit.

“You always this difficult?”

“You always this creepy?”

He chuckles, and the movement makes his jacket open, revealing that the side of his white button-down is soaked in blood.

“Oh my God, you’re bleeding!”

He briefly glances down. “Yeah.”

“No, you don’t understand. You’re bleeding!”

“I’m aware.”

“You need a hospital!”

“No hospital.”

“Are you insane? What happened?”

“The bullet went through. I’m fine.”

“Bu… bullet?! You are not fine!”

Taking advantage of my concern, he meets my eyes, squeezing my shoulders with his big, warm hands. “Help me. Please.”

I stare at this bleeding stranger who dragged me into an isolated corner and manhandled me, but is most likely running from something dangerous. I should scream, run, kick him in the nuts, do something… anything. But the plead in his eyes calls to me. He looks like he really needs help. Fuck.

I hold his gaze. “What do you need?”

He exhales slowly. “Just stay close. Act like we’re together.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, like a couple. Getting married, like everyone else here.”

Before I can answer, he pulls me out of the booth and wraps an arm around my waist. He pulls me against his side. And I fucking melt. He’s at least a foot taller than my five-six. All thick, hard muscle and body heat. God, give me strength!

We move through the crowd. And he’s leaning on me a little, enough that I can tell he’s hurting.

“Smile,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?”

“Smile, like you’re in love.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Zak.”

I suck my teeth before reluctantly giving him my name. “Nadia.”

His arm tightens around me. “Pretty name.”

“Thanks. Now let go of me.”

“Can’t.”

A woman in a pink blazer approaches us, a tablet in hand. “IDs, please?”

Zak reaches into his jacket, pulls out his wallet, and hands her his ID. I fumble in my purse and hand over mine. She looks at both, typing on her tablet.

Zak’s gaze drops to my driver’s license still in her hand, and something passes through his gorgeous dark eyes.

“You live in Tahoe.”

“Yes, North Shore.”

He grins, eyes twinkling. “South Lake.”

I don’t have time to linger on the fact that we’re practically neighbors when the lady interrupts our moment with a loud, chirped, “Perfect! You’re all set for the group ceremony. Just need a few signatures.”

She shoves her device at us. Zak signs without even reading. And when I hesitate, he nudges me.

“Sign.”

“I’m not…”

“Please.”

Ugh… I sign.

The woman beams. “Wonderful! The ceremony starts in five minutes. Just head over there.”

She points toward the main room where couples are gathering, and Zak pulls me in that direction.

“We’re not actually getting married,” I hiss.

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Then why…”

“I need to blend in. And you agreed to help.”

“I didn’t agree to…”

Our muttered argument is interrupted by the officiant, dressed in a sparkly Elvis outfit, of course, declaring loudly, “You may kiss your bride!”

Wait! What?!

I look around and realize we’re standing in a row with dozens of other couples. So many that I don’t see Leah and George. And everyone else is kissing.

I turn to Zak. “Did we just…”

But at that moment, his phone rings. He pulls it out and answers, “Yeah?” There’s a pause, then, “Good. I’m at…” He glances around, reading the sign on the wall, “Palace of Eternal Love. Pink building.”

He hangs up and looks at me.

“My men are here. We need to move.”

“What…”

I don’t get a chance to finish because freaking gunshots erupt! People scream, and the front windows shatter.

Zak grabs my hand. “Stay close.”

“What the fuck…”

“Move!”

He pulls me toward the back of the room. More gunshots explode around us. We’re ducking, running. I don’t think my heart has ever beaten so fast, but when I look up at the man who has me tucked into his side, shielding me from the violent mayhem around us, his face is stone-cold calm.

We see men flood through the front, wearing black suits with their guns drawn. It’s complete chaos.

I yell, “Leah!” searching around frantically.

“Nadia!” she calls back, tucked under George. Fuck, he might be one of the good ones after all.

But before we can exchange more than a panicked wave, Zak yanks me through the back door into an alley.

A massive black SUV pulls up. He shoves me inside, climbing after me.

The door slams, and we peel out. I’m pressed against the leather seat, heart pounding, ears ringing.

Zak’s next to me, staring ahead, jaw clenched.

I glare at him. “What. The. Fuck.”

He glances my way. “You’re safe now.”

“Safe? Someone just shot up a wedding venue!”

“No one got hurt. They were looking for me. Dipshits from a rival family.”

“R… rival family? What are you, the freaking mafia?”

He smirks. “Bratva.”

“What?!” I shriek. Because, yeah, I’ve seen ‘Arrow’. All eight seasons, one-hundred-fifty-plus episodes (Stephen Amell, duh!). I know what the freaking Bratva is! I stare at him, shocked.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Calm down, babe.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! And don’t call me, babe!”

The driver clears his throat, glancing in the rearview mirror. “Boss?”

Zak’s one-word reply is, “Doc.”

Okay, it’s good he’s asking for medical help. But, boss? I turn my attention back to his stupid handsome face. “You’re the boss?”

He leans his head back against the seat, looking like his injury, the chase, the whole crazy ordeal is finally catching up.

“Yeah, Pakhan.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper, stunned. Because I know that word, too. That title means he’s not just some small faction leader; this man reigns over an entire criminal empire territory.

He turns to look at me. Even bleeding and exhausted, he’s fucking magnificent. With his dark eyes, stubbled jawline, and that damn smirk.

“You okay?” he rasps out.

“Am I okay?” I bring a finger to my chin, pretending to think.

He lets out a tired chuckle. “You helped me. I won’t forget it.”

“Great. I’m so glad my near-death experience was useful to you.”

His full, sculpted lips twitch at the corner. “You’re funny.”

“I’m traumatized.”

He raises a hand and pushes one of my curls behind my ear. The contact is brief, but the brush of his skin against mine sends warmth all over my body. Settling me, tempering my high emotions. Or replacing them with an entirely different kind…

“You’re cute when you’re scared.”

I bat his hand away. “I’m not scared; I’m furious. And where the hell are we going?”

Another short, rumbly laugh.

When I look outside, the SUV is pulling up to a massive estate with tall iron gates and guards. The whole nine yards. We drive up to a mansion that looks like something out of a mafia movie. Because apparently, that’s exactly what my life has turned into…

“Welcome home, wife.”