Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Calina
I sit in the bridal suite of the private island villa, staring at my reflection in the large mirror while the makeup artist puts the finishing touches on my face.
Outside, the turquoise ocean sparkles under the sun, waves gently kissing the white sand beach. It’s exactly the kind of beach wedding I used to dream about as a little girl.
This is an intimate ceremony, only thirty carefully chosen guests. No big crowd, and no media. Maxim and my brothers didn't want to take any risks. The location was kept secret until this morning for security reasons.
My brothers and Maxim handpicked every single person from both sides of the families. Everyone here is either trusted or powerful enough that crossing us would be suicide.
I should be grateful. This is as safe as a wedding in our world can get. But all I can think about is the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
My relationship with Maxim hasn’t improved since that night two days ago. The night I suggested he check Dmitri and Viktor, his closest men, as possible rats.
I know I shouldn’t have said it. He trusts them like brothers. But in our world, you can never be too careful. Betrayal can come from anywhere. Still… the way he shut down, the way he stormed out…
He’s been distant ever since. Leaving the house before dawn, coming back long after I’ve gone to bed. I’m not sure if he’s avoiding me, or if he’s just so busy trying to find the real traitor.
Either way, the silence between us has been heavy. Cold.
I look down at my hands, they won’t stop trembling. I'm really doing this. Getting tied to Maxim for life. There's no way out after this.
I remind myself that I’m doing this for my family. If I back out now, it could start a war. Or worse, Milana would be forced to take my place. I’d rather walk into this fire myself than let her burn.
Besides, the thought of being married to Maxim, is no longer as terrifying as it used to be. When he isn't being cold, he's a great lover.
The makeup artist steps back, smiling softly. “Don't bite your lips, you'll ruin your lipstick.”
I manage a weak smile. “Sorry.”
Just then, the door opens. Artyom and Mikhail step inside, both dressed in sharp black suits. My brothers. My protectors. The sight of them makes my throat tighten with emotion.
I turn to the makeup artist. “Could you please excuse us for a moment?”
She nods quickly and slips out, closing the door behind her.
The second we’re alone, I let out a shaky breath. Artyom looks at me with that familiar cold intensity, but there’s worry behind his eyes. Mikhail’s expression is tighter, more volatile, like he’s barely holding himself back from dragging me out of here.
“You don’t have to do this,” Artyom says quietly, voice low. “We can still find another way.”
I shake my head, forcing a brave smile even as my eyes sting. “And what other way is there? Starting a war? I can't allow that.”
Mikhail steps closer, jaw clenched. “If that bastard hurts you—”
“He won’t,” I cut in, surprising us all. “Maxim won't hurt me.”
They both look like they want to argue, but they don’t. Instead, Artyom takes me in, his expression softening in a way I rarely see.
“You look so beautiful,” he says quietly, voice thick.
Mikhail nods. “Like a queen.”
I manage a small, shaky smile. “Thank you.”
Artyom walks closer, his usual cold mask cracking. He stops in front of me, looking down with deep regret in his steel-gray eyes. “I’m really sorry, Calina. I didn’t want this for you.”
His jaw clenches. “We tried everything. We spent days and nights going through the contract with lawyers… and there was nothing. I failed you.”
Mikhail steps up beside him, shoulders tense. “We both did. We vowed to protect you and Milana, and we couldn’t stop this.”
The guilt in their voices breaks something in my chest. I reach out and take both their hands, squeezing tightly.
“Stop,” I say softly but firmly. “Both of you. There’s nothing to apologize for. This happened because of our father, not because of you. He’s the one who signed the blood contract. He’s the one who created this mess. You didn’t do this. You’ve protected us our whole lives. You still do.”
“I’m fine,” I tell them, even though my voice wavers. “Getting married to Maxim… it’s not as bad as you think. He’s not like Father. He hasn’t raised his voice at me. He hasn’t hurt me. He’s controlling and arrogant, yes, but he’s not violent with me. Not like that.”
The words slip out before I can stop them. I realize I keep defending Maxim to my brothers. But it’s the truth.
In the two weeks I’ve been with him, I’ve seen enough to know he’s nothing like Vladimir.
I squeeze their hands again. “So please… stop carrying this guilt. It’s not your burden. I’ve accepted my fate. You should too.”
Mikhail grinds his jaw, muttering, “That motherfucker…” at the mention of our father.
“Language,” I say lightly, trying to ease the mood.
Artyom pulls me into a tight hug, then Mikhail joins, wrapping his arms around both of us.
This is strange. I’ve never seen my brothers show this much affection to anyone besides their wives.
Growing up, we were taught never to display affection, even toward our siblings, and I’ve always known my brothers to be stoic to a fault. That softened a little after they got married, but still, a group hug?
They both finally pull away, their cold masks slipping back on.
“We’ll be with you as you walk down the aisle,” Artyom says finally, voice rough.
I smile through the sting in my eyes. “I know. Now please… go. The makeup artist needs to finish, and it’s almost time.”
They each kiss me on the cheek, Artyom on the right, Mikhail on the left, before reluctantly leaving the room.
Not long after they’re gone, the door opens again. Milana walks in already dressed as my chief bridesmaid, with the makeup artist trailing behind her. My sister’s eyes are already watery as she takes me in.
“You look like a dream,” she whispers.
“Thank you.”
Milana looks stunning in a soft sage-green gown that complements her hazel-gray eyes and golden-blonde hair perfectly. The dress is elegant, flowing, with delicate straps and a gentle A-line silhouette that makes her look ethereal.
The makeup artist resumes the final touches on my face while Milana stands beside me, fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
“What’s the problem?” I ask, watching her through the mirror.
She lets out an exasperated huff. “Konstantin is here. The first thing that man did when he arrived was get under my skin. I swear, if he pisses me off today, I’m going to throw him into the ocean.”
I can’t help but laugh. Konstantin Belov, our brothers’ close friend and a powerful ally, has always had this effect on Milana.
He enjoys taunting her, and she, bless her, falls for it every single time. They’ve never gotten along, not really. He pushes her buttons, and she gives him exactly the reaction he wants.
“Just avoid him during the wedding,” I suggest, still smiling. “Ignore his antics. The more you react, the more he’ll do it.”
Milana crosses her arms. “That’s what I’m trying to do. Believe me.”
Just then, the door opens again. Irina and Kira walk in, both dressed beautifully, Irina in a sleek champagne-colored gown, Kira in a soft blush pink that flatters her warm complexion. The moment they see me, their faces light up.
“Oh my God,” Kira breathes. “You look absolutely stunning.”
Irina’s eyes mist over. “A vision. Truly. Maxim is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
They both hug me carefully, careful not to ruin the makeup or dress. For a few minutes, the room fills with laughter and compliments as they fuss over me.
Milana glances at her watch. “It’s time. We should head out.”
The makeup artist makes one final adjustment, then steps back with a satisfied smile. I stand up, heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Outside the suite, Artyom is waiting for me. The moment he sees me, his usual stoic expression softens. He offers his arm, and I hook mine through it.
“You look beautiful,” he says quietly. “Are you ready?”
I nod, even though my legs feel unsteady. “Yes.”
We walk out together, stepping down the wooden pathway toward the beachfront where the ceremony is set up.
The setup is breathtaking, rows of white chairs arranged on the white sand, facing the turquoise ocean. Delicate white and blush flowers line the aisle, with sheer fabric draping gently in the breeze.
A small wooden arch decorated with greenery and flowers stands at the end, the priest waiting beneath it. The waves provide a soft, soothing soundtrack.
At the end of the aisle, Maxim stands tall and devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. The jacket hugs his broad shoulders, the white shirt crisp against his tanned skin.
His dark blond hair is styled neatly, but a few strands still fall rebelliously across his forehead. He looks powerful, commanding, and impossibly attractive. His dark eyes lock onto me the second I appear, and they don’t leave me for a single second as I walk toward him.
When we reach Maxim, Artyom pauses, looking at him with a mixture of warning and reluctant acceptance. Then he gently hands me over. Maxim takes my hand, his, big and warm against mine as he helps me step up to stand beside him in front of the priest.
His eyes sweep over me, taking in every detail. Heat flashes in his gaze, unmistakable and intense, but beneath it is something softer.
I’d gone out of my way to keep the dress hidden from Maxim. I wanted this moment, the first time he saw me in it, to be here, now.
The ivory gown hugs my body perfectly, the fitted bodice accentuating my waist before flowing into a graceful skirt that skims my curves with every step.
Judging by the look on Maxim's face, keeping it a secret is worth it.
"You look so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
"The dress..." His lips curve slightly. "You made an incredible choice."
“Thank you,” I murmur, blushing.