Chapter 5
JULIET
Istood before the full-length mirror in the dimly lit dressing room tucked away behind the old stone church, my reflection staring back at me like a stranger dressed for someone else’s destiny.
My fingers trembled as I smoothed the intricate lace of my wedding gown for what had to be the tenth time, chasing away imaginary wrinkles simply to give my restless hands something to do.
The dress was a masterpiece.
It embodied the elegance of old Russia woven together with generations of Bratva wealth and tradition.
Hours earlier, the makeup artist and hairstylist had transformed me into the perfect Bratva bride.
My lips were painted a delicate shade of rose, soft enough to suggest happiness I didn’t possess.
My dark hair had been swept into an elegant chignon, adorned with pearls and tiny diamonds that sparkled beneath the lace veil trailing behind me like an uncertain ghost.
From the outside, I looked every inch the woman meant to stand beside a powerful man.
Inside, I felt as though I were falling apart one quiet crack at a time.
I inhaled slowly, but the tightly laced corset refused to let my lungs fully expand.
The restriction only made the anxiety clawing inside my chest feel worse.
This is it.
There is no turning back now.
My heartbeat pounded against my ribs with frantic determination, matching the distant melody of the church organ drifting faintly through the heavy oak door.
Guests were already gathering.
Families were taking their seats.
Somewhere beyond these walls, the man waiting at the altar was preparing to become my husband.
I had imagined my wedding day countless times growing up.
I had expected nerves.
Butterflies.
Maybe even tears of happiness.
But never this crushing emptiness.
Never this overwhelming loneliness.
And to make matters worse, the one person who should’ve been standing beside me, holding my hand and reminding me I wasn’t alone... wasn’t here.
The thought alone sent another wave of hurt crashing through me.
Yesterday morning, he’d vanished without warning, disappearing as though the earth itself had swallowed him whole.
Some of his men whispered that he’d gone abroad to forge a new alliance.
Others claimed he’d fled the country, fearing the wrath of Romeo Flynn—the man he’d so recklessly tried to have killed three days earlier.
I didn’t know which story was true.
But if it was true that my father’s men had been behind the attempt on Romeo’s life...
if they had really orchestrated the ambush that would’ve succeeded had Romeo not stumbled into my car, bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds, and ordered me to drive him to an abandoned warehouse where I helped stop the bleeding before he bled out...
Then my father would soon face the consequences of that decision.
And knowing Romeo Flynn...
They wouldn’t be merciful.
But it hurt.
It hurt that he could simply disappear from our lives without a word.
He’d walked away from the empire he’d spent decades building, leaving the Bratva in the hands of his lieutenant and his younger brother.
He’d abandoned my mother when she needed him most, knowing how fragile her health had become.
And he’d abandoned me...
Even after being the one who’d pushed so relentlessly for this arranged marriage, insisting it was the only path forward.
No farewell.
No explanation.
No letter waiting on his desk.
Only an empty chair at breakfast and hushed conversations among armed guards who suddenly refused to meet my eyes.
I blinked rapidly, forcing the tears gathering in my eyes to retreat before they could ruin the careful work the makeup artist had spent hours perfecting.
Not today.
Straightening my shoulders, I lifted my chin and met my reflection one last time.
The woman staring back looked poised and elegant.
No one would guess how utterly alone she felt.
Drawing one steadying breath, I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the long stone corridor leading toward the church nave.
The cool air wrapped around me immediately, carrying the rich scent of incense, polished wood, melted candle wax, and fresh white lilies decorating the sanctuary.
Every measured step of my heels echoed softly against the ancient stone floor, each click sounding impossibly loud in the otherwise hushed hallway.
My gown whispered around my ankles as though even the fabric knew this walk would change everything.
I was never meant to make this journey alone.
My father should have been here, offering me his arm with quiet pride, whispering reassurances.
Instead, there was only silence beside me.
My grip tightened around the bouquet of deep crimson roses until I felt the hidden thorns press painfully through my satin gloves.
The sharp sting grounded me.
My eyes lifted instinctively, drawn toward the altar as though an invisible thread had wrapped itself around my heart and was pulling me forward one reluctant step at a time.
Two figures waited.
The priest stood with solemn dignity in richly embroidered vestments, his weathered hands folded over an ancient leather-bound Bible.
His expression remained calm, untouched by the tension saturating the church.
To him, this was another sacred ceremony.
To everyone else in attendance, it was the sealing of a dangerous alliance.
And beside him...
Romeo.
The air caught in my throat.
God...
He looked...
Beautiful.
Dangerously so.
He wore a pristine white suit instead of the customary black favored by men in our world—a choice that somehow suited him perfectly.
The jacket was tailored to perfection, sculpting his broad shoulders and powerful frame with effortless precision.
His dark hair had been combed neatly away from his face, exposing the sharp angles of his jaw.
Time in prison had hardened every line of his face, chiseling away whatever softness had once existed.
Even standing perfectly still, he commanded every pair of eyes in the church.
Then his gaze found mine.
The world seemed to narrow until there was nothing else.
Those piercing green eyes locked onto me with unnerving intensity, refusing to look away. My pulse stumbled beneath the weight of that stare.
I searched his expression for something—anything—that might reveal what he was thinking.
Hatred?
Resentment?
Acceptance?
Possession?
There was nothing.
His face remained carved from stone.
Three days ago, I received the most bewildering call of my life. The Civil Affairs Bureau informed me that my wedding would take place today, despite the fact that I had never agreed to it.
They spoke as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world, informing me that my marriage had been officially scheduled, the paperwork finalized, and that I was expected to appear for the ceremony today.
I could barely process what I was hearing.
How could a marriage I had never agreed to already have a wedding date?
Before I could make sense of it, my phone rang again.
Romeo Flynn.
There was no greeting.
“I trust you’ve received the notification,” he had said, his voice calm and unwavering. “Keegan will contact you with the details. He’ll oversee every aspect of the wedding. You won’t have to concern yourself with a thing.”
I opened my mouth to object.
He didn’t let me.
“If you refuse,” he had continued in that same frighteningly composed tone, “your family pays the price. I buried my own family in a single day. Don’t make me show you I can do it twice.”
The line went dead.
I had stared at my phone, frozen, dozens of questions crashing through my mind.
Why the sudden urgency?
Had he even spoken to my sister—the one person whose opinion had always mattered to him?
None of those questions were answered.
When Keegan called later that day, he ignored every one of them. His only concern was preparing me for the wedding.
Under any other circumstances, I would’ve refused.
I would’ve fought Romeo.
But then my father disappeared.
And with him gone, I couldn’t afford to challenge Romeo Flynn.
Besides...
The marriage would last only two years.
And buried beneath all my fear was a truth I’d never dared admit.
I’d wanted this.
Not like this. Never like this.
A week ago, I was living my life as though tomorrow belonged to me.
Today, I was walking down the aisle to marry the most feared man in Florida.
As I climbed the flower-lined steps toward the altar, each measured step felt less like walking into a marriage and more like surrendering to a destiny that had been chosen long before I was ever given a voice.
My eyes remained fixed ahead, but my thoughts drifted back.
Back to Yarina.
She had warned me not to go through with this marriage. She’d said the consequences would be severe.
It wasn’t that I feared her—or her threats.
The truth was, this marriage had never really been my choice.
Besides, Yarina wasn’t the one holding the advantage.
She was carrying the late Sergei Flynn’s child—Romeo’s brother’s heir.
That secret was leverage.
If she decided to make my life difficult or interfere with this marriage, all I’d have to do was tell Romeo the truth.
After that...
Whatever happened to Yarina would no longer be my concern.
I reached the final step and stopped before him.
The layers of my gown settled around me with a soft rustle, the silence between us suddenly louder than the murmured prayers echoing through the church.
Romeo didn’t move.
His gaze remained fixed on mine.
The priest cleared his throat, drawing every eye in the sanctuary toward the altar.
His warm, resonant voice carried effortlessly through the ancient church.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God and these witnesses to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony.”
His gaze settled on me first.
“Juliet, you stand before us radiant as the dawn over the Volga, a daughter of strength, honor, and legacy.”
Then he turned toward Romeo.
“And you, Romeo, a son of resilient Irish blood whose courage has been tested by hardship and sacrifice.”
He paused, allowing his words to settle over the congregation.