Chapter 12 – Lev
I stand beside Sasha at the head table, arm brushing hers every so often, feeling the subtle heat of her skin through the fabric of our clothes. The ceremony is over, the vows exchanged, but the weight of it—her, the ring, the promise—still hums through me like electricity.
Guests approach, offering congratulations. I shake hands, nodding politely, but my attention never strays far from her. Every movement she makes, every laugh, every tilt of her head—it’s a constant pull I can’t ignore.
The brunch is orderly, quiet, with only the closest Rusnaks in attendance. The conversation is polite, measured, but I barely hear it. My mind is half on the arrangement of the tables, half on the way she keeps her chin lifted, her eyes scanning the room.
I can feel the tension coiled in her, tight and deliberate, but I also see the way she straightens her shoulders, head held high as every eye in the room studies her. She is not meek. Not broken. Not afraid. And I love that about her.
My gaze lingers on her, tracing the lines of her dress, the way the gold catches the morning light and makes her skin glow.
It’s audacious, unlike any traditional wedding dress, but it suits her—bold, untamed, entirely herself.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Even surrounded by the Rusnaks, the power, the danger, she is entirely captivating, and mine.
A slow, dark satisfaction coils in me. She may try to challenge me, may act defiant, may try to hold back—but nothing, nothing, will diminish what she is now: my wife. My possession. And I will enjoy every second of reminding her of it.
She turns her head and catches me staring.
“What?” she snaps softly, chin tilting, eyes flashing like she’s trying to read me.
I slip a hand around her waist, fingers firm on the gold fabric as I pull her a little closer. My mouth lowers to her ear, my breath grazing her skin. She shudders before she can stop herself, a tremor that runs right through her body.
“You look gorgeous,” I whisper, my voice a low growl meant for her alone.
Even as she rolls her eyes at me, color rushes to her cheeks, blooming bright against her skin.
She pushes me away, a small shove, trying to keep her composure in front of all these people.
But I’ve already seen the blush, already felt the tremor.
It’s enough to make my lips curve in a slow, dark smile.
A deep, familiar voice speaks beside me.
“Congratulations, brother.”
I turn, and my mood lifts even more. Roman. Roman Rusnak, my cousin, my brother in everything but blood.
I take in his features, his hazel eyes, his brooding face, same solid frame, the faint lines around his mouth that weren’t there a few years ago.
I’d sent him an invite but thought nothing of it, absolutely certain he wouldn’t come.
We only see him once a year, sometimes not at all.
He’s big on hiding away, and we all know it has to do with the scars from his time in the military.
He doesn’t talk about it, and we don’t push.
But whenever he shows up, we’re happy. Like I am now.
“Roman!”
I hug him with one arm, still keeping the other snug around Sasha’s waist. Roman hugs me back, firm as ever, and pats my back.
“I couldn’t miss it,” he says, voice low but warm. “Had to come see which special woman managed to hold Lev down. Thought you’d die a bachelor.”
I laugh, genuine and unguarded. “You’re not the only one who thought so.”
I turn to Sasha. “This is Roman, my cousin.”
Roman smiles faintly, extending a hand. “Sasha.”
She takes it, poised but a little wary, and they exchange polite greetings. I watch her eyes flick over him with a smile.
“It’s nice to meet you, Roman.”
“Same.” He nods at her before turning back to me, just as Sasha’s attention is taken by another guest.
“Just got back from Eastern Europe. Everyone there misses you, Lev.”
I smirk, brushing a hand down Sasha’s back without thinking. “I’ll be back soon enough,” I say, voice low, almost teasing. “This time with my wife—if she’s in the mood to travel, of course.”
Sasha stiffens slightly at the words, heat rising in her cheeks. “I’m a flight attendant,” she says. “I’m always in the mood to travel.”
I tighten my hand on her waist, my voice low, smooth, leaving no room for argument. “Was a flight attendant? Yes,” I say, eyes still on Roman. “But now? You don’t have to haul yourself through aisles and tiny seats. You’ll be flying beside me…in luxury. In style.”
Her gaze hardens for a moment, a flicker of anger I can’t quite read. Did I say something wrong? I push the thought aside—later. Right now isn’t the time. I should focus on Roman, who is staring at us both with a calm intensity.
“Will you be waiting for the reception tomorrow?” I ask Roman.
Roman nods, a small grin on his face. “Sure. Work called me back here, so don’t worry. But we’ll have plenty of time to talk later. Today’s your wedding. You should enjoy it.”
I nod, letting the words settle. “Better this way,” I mutter, tightening my hand slightly around Sasha’s waist. “I can’t concentrate on a damn thing with my beautiful wife in my arms.”
Roman laughs, the sound echoing softly in the garden. I feel her shift, her body pulling away from me, and I look down just in time to see her stalk off, jaw set, cheeks flushed.
I let her go with a low, amused hum. Damn her, but she’s irresistible.
The rest of the Rusnak brothers—Niko, Kaz, Adrian, Lukin—join us, and the table suddenly feels more alive, the quiet tension shifting into something warmer. These are my brothers. Men I blindly trust to have my back, no matter what war I’m in.
Mikhail appears at my side just as I’m swirling the last of my drink later that evening. “Lev,” he says, voice low but firm, “it’s getting late. The brunch should wrap up so everyone has time to rest before the reception tomorrow.”
I nod, setting my glass down. “You’re right. Let’s call it.”
He gives me a sideways glance, then offers a small, almost teasing smile. “And congratulations. Wholeheartedly.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Appreciated. But what’s with that look?”
Mikhail shakes his head, stepping closer. “Just…don’t be an asshole to her. It’s your wedding day, Lev.”
I blink, caught off guard. “I’ve never been an asshole to her.”
He smirks knowingly. “That’s not true. You’ve been mean, and it’s about time you start acting…better.”
I feel heat rise in my chest—not from anger, but from the way his words echo truths I’ve been trying to ignore. He’s right. I have been sharp, cold, relentless with her. But I’ve done it because I care—because letting her in scares me more than anything.
Still…I clench my fists and mutter under my breath, mostly to myself, “Better, huh?”
Mikhail just pats my shoulder and leaves me sitting there, thoughts twisting, knowing I’ll have to be the man who keeps her safe and finally earns her trust, not just her obedience.
I lean close to Niko, who is laughing hard at something Adrian is telling him. “End the party,” I tell him curtly. “I’m leaving with my wife.”
Without waiting for a response, I slip away, scanning the mansion for her. She’s not in the sitting rooms, not in the library, not in the hallways. My steps are quiet, deliberate. Every corner I turn, I hope she hasn’t disappeared somewhere I can’t reach.
Finally, I find her. The balcony doors are slightly ajar, and there she is, leaning against the railing, staring out at the city lights. The soft glow illuminates her hair and the line of her jaw. Her arms are crossed, shoulders tense, and for a moment, I just watch her, memorizing her.
I step closer, closing the distance, and take her hand in mine. It’s warm, alive. I lean down, my lips near her ear. “You cannot be alone tonight,” I whisper. “I’ll be with you. Every moment.”
Her body stiffens. She opens her mouth, probably to argue, but I don’t give her the chance. I lift her into my arms effortlessly.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks, voice sharp but shaky.
I smirk, letting the heat of my gaze meet hers. “To our suite,” I say simply, starting toward the elevators.
Tonight, she’s mine, whether she wants it or not, and I will make sure she feels it every step of the way.