8. Carina
CARINA
Iwoke up on the morning of my wedding with a routine that I doubted I could ever give up.
Running.
There wasn’t a chance in hell that I could leave my fiancé’s house, though.
Just like the villa that I had called home, Maksim’s residence was heavily protected with patrolling guards.
Security cameras were positioned all over the perimeter of the property.
I’d noticed both details as soon as I was brought here last night.
Instead of coming home and being near me for the first night of our acquaintance, Maksim had sent his brother to be a guest in the house.
“Which one are you?” I asked him bluntly last night when he showed up. I’d only just had enough time to preview the entirety of the house before he’d come.
“Viktor,” he answered just as directly, taking no offense that I wasn’t simpering or sweet, quiet or meek.
I was surprised that he’d dignified me with an answer at all. Under my brother’s guidance, I was supposed to have been conditioned to think that men would never answer me. That I was always a pesky thing in the background.
Already, this brother was getting on my good side. He hadn’t done anything or said anything other than that he’d see me to the wedding venue in the morning. And he let me be after that.
I wouldn’t lower my guard that easily. Of course, I was being watched. I wasn’t here to befriend anyone, anyway. I wasn’t here to like my husband. I was here as a temporary show of good faith.
Viktor wasn’t going to let me run away from his brother.
Nor would the butler, Jeremiah. The older household staff member understood how to linger in the background, and he wasn’t pesky.
Still, I noticed every second of his presence, all too aware that he would watch my every move for Maksim.
Jeremiah didn’t speak to me, but that was just fine.
I didn’t need nor want another babysitter.
Maybe this was how Maksim envisioned this marriage going. With us spending time apart, neither of us having to put up with the other for very long.
Except today.
I slowed down on the treadmill then got off to shower. Finding this state-of-the-art gym was a blessing.
Today, Maksim would insist on making this wedding a real one for the sake of its legality.
So would Arturo, if he cared about the relationship with the Volkov Bratva as old friends and trading partners.
He can’t care that much.
He didn’t give me any details about spying.
And he isn’t going to be at the wedding.
Sour dread sank in my stomach at that reminder. My brother should’ve been the one here to walk me down the aisle in place of my father. But he wasn’t here. Neither of them were, and it was hard not to think that I’d been…
Rejected.
Displaced.
Stop fussing about it. I shook my head as I went to shower. My marriage wouldn’t last, after all. I didn’t have to view this as anything but a temporary expectation to fulfill before I could go home. Until I could return to where I belonged, helping my brother run our Cartel.
A long, hot shower almost put me in a better mood. A good, hard run on the treadmill always worked as a mood-changer. The endorphin rush ended when I stepped into my guest room, though.
The sight of a white wedding gown had me cringing.
A maid must have brought it in while I cleaned up.
Jeremiah had left me alone except for when he’d insisted that I stand for measurements last night, a hardship that had lasted all of a few minutes.
I hadn’t imagined they’d be able to whip up—or find—a dress that quickly, but it seemed that the Volkov Bratva had ample resources to pull off the impossible.
I strode toward the long gown lying on the big bed, hating how easy it was to admire the cut of the lovely fabric and the daring slit up one side.
No overly ornate embellishments distracted from the classic, simple appearance of the dress.
A low-cut neckline was emphasized by the sewn-on gems, but it wasn’t gaudy. It was… just right.
Once I put it on and twisted to see myself in the mirror, I loathed how beautiful it was.
“Dammit.”
I didn’t want anything good here. I didn’t want to appreciate how spectacular this huge house was, how orderly everything seemed here. I especially didn’t want to owe my gratitude to Maksim or anyone in his family for this gown.
“I don’t want you,” I whispered as I eyed my reflection.
Desiring a sexy, dangerous man was one matter. But to admit I could be attracted to or thankful for Maksim Volkov?
Not happening.
He wouldn’t be a real husband no matter how legitimate this wedding would be. My place was within the Cartel.
When I couldn’t delay any longer with my hair and makeup, I sighed and left the guest room. Viktor had told me when to be ready, and even though I had five minutes to spare, I left the room to get this over with.
“You’re early,” Viktor commented from where he’d been waiting at the foyer.
“Maybe she’s eager,” another Volkov brother said with a sly smile as he entered the large, open space too.
Not at all. Instead of correcting him, I slapped on a smile, forcing myself to play the role of the perfect, submissive, and sweet bride. Because that was all that was happening here. I had to force myself through this farce, going along with this stupid arrangement.
“Morning,” I replied instead, polite and hedging what he said.
“I stand corrected. You’re not eager to become the next Volkov bride.” He smirked lightly, slightly marring his scowl.
I furrowed my brow just a bit at this gruff man. How could you tell?
“Next bride?” I glanced at Viktor.
Fuck. Am I going to survive this?
Some men required multiple arrangements of marriage because the previous ones didn’t last.
I hadn’t counted on a fight. Maksim hadn’t given me that impression last night, either.
“This is my cousin, Alexei,” Viktor explained as he gestured for us to leave the house. “And he means the next bride after our older brother’s wife. They recently married.”
“Adrik married?” I did know some about the Volkov Bratva. Adrik Volkov’s name stood out only because my father had respected that he was the heir in waiting, Dmitri’s eldest.
I wonder if Dmitri will remember me. I’d seen him—many years ago, but I didn’t look anything like the scrawny tomgirl I was back then.
They shared a look as they led me to the car. “He did. It’s a curious thing that your brother didn’t RSVP to the wedding invitation, such a close ally and all,” Viktor said.
I kept my face blank as I got into the car. But my mind was racing.
When did this happen?
How come he never told me?
For fuck’s sake, he should’ve come to the wedding to pay his respects as any well-intended partner would!
It was too late to wonder about the previous wedding the Volkovs had.
Within several minutes that I spent studying the land as we sped by, I was there at the main mansion.
This was the place where my father had let me tag along to a meeting with Dmitri before.
It was an odd thing to remember, but my mind had always worked like that.
Not a photographic memory, but a strangely accurate one.
I could recall a place I’d only seen once, even fleetingly, without error.
Viktor and Alexei led me into the massive house, through it, and out toward the back where a small ceremonial area had been established. Rows of chairs were taken by guests—none from my family, but theirs.
Too quickly, as it dawned on me that I was about to be bartered off, I zeroed in on him.
Maksim Volkov had no godly right to look that damn good in a tuxedo.
His dark hair falling over one brow. His lean jaw so rigid as he stared me down, almost challenging me not to go through with this. His eyes, so serious and intense on me. His body, tall and wide and muscular in such a way that it intimidated and aroused me.
To be tamed by a man like that…
I caught myself from sighing. I quit this stupid increase of awareness.
Play along.
That’s all you’re doing.
Get this over with and get whatever intel you can and go back home as soon as possible.
That’s it.
Music began after a long moment of waiting there, and with the prompt of one of the ushers at the small gathering, I headed down the aisle.
No fanfare. No bouquet.
I marched toward Maksim and tried to catalog who was where.
Members of the Volkovs.
Guests of other families.
Mentally, I tracked all the details that I could about who was where.
“Let me guess,” Maksim whispered once I reached him.
The music stopped, and the officiant began to speak next to us.
As my fiancé took my hand, jarring me with his touch, he proved that he didn’t intend to dwell on anything except getting this over with as well.
“This isn’t the grand wedding that a princess like you always imagined. ”
Like I was business to handle. This was business, but I wasn’t going to let him think he was getting under my skin, goading me.
I didn’t react, staring him down, intrigued that he was taking this moment to talk to me while the officiant went on and on.
“I didn’t think your brother would send you with no one to witness from your end.”
I didn’t think so either, but it hardly mattered now, did it? “And here I’m curious why your father isn’t here to witness it either,” I whispered back. As the Pakhan, he should’ve been present. Redirecting the conversation to his family reduced the sting of fully knowing no one from mine was here.
He tilted his head to the side. “He’s unable to make it.”
“Hmm. Guess it would get crowded. What with Adrik’s new wife here. And that has to be Lev and Nikolai behind you, correct? The younger spares.”
He raised one brow. “Spares?”
I was giving away that I wasn’t some brainless idiot but knowledgeable about this underworld we lived in.
Including who was who—or being able to guess at them and see them without my brother telling me to stay out of the way.
But it was bound to be a fact sooner or later.
If he had been counting on my being a typical Cartel princess who knew nothing about the business, he was in for a surprise.
“I suppose seeing Stefan Rossi in attendance as a guest means it’s not merely a rumor that your Bratva has old ties with the East Coast.”
He smirked and glanced at the officiant to insert his mandatory “I do” when prompted, taking my hand and shoving a ring on my finger.
A second later, I was summoned to reply in kind, putting a band on his finger with my “I do.” I made sure to sugar coat it just to peeve him.
Before we could bicker or whisper heatedly up here any further, Maksim tugged my hand. He took it so roughly, so impatiently, that he urged me closer to him. “You might talk sweet and put on a good act, but watch it, Wife.” He leaned toward me, eyeing my lips and making my heart race faster.
I resisted the instinct to frown at how badly I looked forward to his lips on mine.
I tamped down the need to smile and let him know I wasn’t numb and impervious to a kiss from him.
This didn’t feel like merely playing along anymore.
Or if we were, I’d lost track of the rules of the game.
Slowly and steadily, he hauled me toward him. We’d meet in the middle, in a kiss to seal this hasty production of a wedding.
It was illegal how much I wanted it. A kiss from him. Right when we were arguing and glowering at each other through these stupid vows I barely heard.
“Watch it,” he repeated before smashing his mouth to mine.
Heat swept through me. Brutally. Deliciously. Wickedly.
And it was over. Too soon, it was over.
I gasped as he pulled back slightly, enough to glare into my eyes. Rich brown melted into a smoldering yet sinister flame in those orbs riveted on me.
“I’ll warn you once,” he whispered, his breath whipping against my wet lips. “If you think you’re here to be nosy and spy for your brother, you’re a dead woman walking.”
Oh, you?—
I gripped the front of his jacket and pulled him closer.
I kissed him this time. I covered his mouth with mine, parting his lips, earning a sexy grunt from him and stealing a sample of his hot taste. Before he could clutch me closer and carry this on with me, I retreated.
Nipping his lower lip as I went. Hard. But not hard enough to draw much blood.
He reared back, licking where I’d bit him as his lidded glare intensified.
“Consider that your warning, Husband.”
Narrowing his eyes, he shook his head slightly, perhaps in disbelief, before he grabbed my hand to walk me down the aisle.