3. NIKOLAI
Music drifts around me, sunlight filtering in through the large windows that line the hall.
The place is packed with people in their very best outfits, the band plucking out a tasteful string arrangement of some love song I’ve never heard before in my life.
At a glance, it looks perfect—but all I can think about, as I stand there waiting for her to arrive, is how fucking angry I am.
I can’t believe this.
Can’t believe that Natalie would drop out of the wedding on the very day it was supposed to happen.
Not because I’m stupid enough to think she was really in love with me—hell, I’m twice her age, and I know as well as she did that this was meant to secure an agreement between her father and me.
I needed to get married, and Damon needed protections to get his product into the city without being intercepted by any of the gangs who rule these streets.
His daughter was of marrying age, so he suggested her, and after some cajoling, managed to get her to agree to it.
Win-win.
But now, she has backed out—taken off to God knows where.
I can only imagine the panic her father is in right now, trying to find her, knowing the hell I’m going to rain down on his head for failing to keep up his end of the deal.
I could hear the terror in his voice at the other end of the line when I called to tell him that his precious daughter had bailed on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, but his groveling and promises that he would somehow make it right mean nothing to me.
Not when I know that everyone who matters is sitting in this room, and they’re all looking for the barest hint that I’m going to screw this up somehow.
My family are back in Russia, mercifully, so they won’t have a chance to uncover the truth of the woman I’m marrying now. Andie—that’s her name, I remember it being mentioned a few times when we were in the midst of planning.
Not that I ever bothered much with keeping up with that.
I told Natalie she could have anything she wanted, and she hired Andie to make it happen.
If I had known “anything she wanted” included running out on the day we were supposed to be wed, I might have thought better of it, but it’s too late for that now.
I know, somewhere at the back of my mind, that what I’m doing could pass for insanity. That marrying a woman I barely know is probably a mistake, even if it’s the only answer to the issue that lies ahead of me right now.
But this would be the ultimate display of weakness if I allowed it to pass. What would my enemies think of me if they knew I couldn’t even get a woman to agree to be my wife? The humiliation that followed would be more than I could take, and there was no way in fucking hell I was going to risk it.
In this world, reputation is everything, and that starts at home, with the control you keep over your family and those closest to you. My father entrusted me with too much for me to let his reputation take that hit alongside mine, and as mad as this seems, I have to see it through.
Finally, the doors at the far end of the hall open—and there she is. Andie.
She has been racing around trying to get everything in place for this updated ceremony, so much so that I’m surprised she had time to change into that ridiculous gown that Natalie chose, but I have to admit—she looks striking.
All eyes turn to her and she tenses, as though wondering what they will think of her. I guess she’s not used to being the center of attention like this, more accustomed to being the one planning the wedding than the one who’s in the middle of it.
Her dark brown hair is swept back from her face, her skin practically glowing against the white of the dress, and her green eyes have been outlined with dark liner to make them stand out.
They lock with mine, and I can see something shift within her, some kind of certainty overwhelming her, like she has realized that she has no choice but to go through with this.
She clutches the bouquet to her chest and makes her way up the aisle toward me, lifting her chin, not making eye contact with anyone in the seats around her. I wonder if she has any idea who they are, these members of the criminal underworld who sit before her now.
She has never asked directly about my job, just taking my checks instead, not that I blame her.
She comes, I’m told, with a reputation of organizing impressive events for people in this world, and I can’t imagine that she’s entirely ignorant to the possibility that my money has not been made through entirely legitimate means.
She reaches my side, and she forces herself to look up at me, though I can see that her hands are trembling where they’re clamped around the flowers. I reach out to offer her a hand, helping her up the small stone steps that lead to the altar, and she hesitates for a moment before she takes it.
I can feel the officiant’s eyes boring into us, and I’m sure he has a million questions about what the fuck is going on here. But he’s not paid to ask questions. He’s paid to do his damn job, same as her. And right now, that means marrying the two of us without asking any more questions.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” he announces, stepping forward swiftly as the music fades away, spreading his arms wide. “I’m pleased to welcome you today to the wedding of Nikolai Artesco and N?—”
I shoot him a look, reminding him, silently, that things are not exactly as they once were.
He clears his throat swiftly, correcting himself. “And Andrea Miller.”
I scan the crowd for any kind of reaction—I notice a few people start at the sound of the new name, and a few of them look around, clearly trying to work out if they’ve heard him correctly, but nobody says anything.
Good. They know better than to question it, especially when I’m right here in front of them.
“Are you ready to begin?” the officiant asks us.
I nod, and Andie, after a moment, does the same. Her face is pale, but her green eyes have a steeliness to them, as though she has already made her mind up about what she’s about to do and won’t let anything take it from her.
Natalie and I hadn’t bothered with any specific vows, so the officiant runs through the usual ones pretty fast, clearly wanting to get this over with. I know this whole thing must seem like a farce to him, but he doesn’t know what’s on the line here.
If he’s lucky, he’ll never have to find out.
“And do you, Nikolai Artesco, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” he asks me, turning to me with a pointed look. “To love and honor her, to protect her and care for her, above all things, as long as you both shall live?”
I flick my tongue over my bottom lip. Last chance to back out of this.
Last chance to think better of it. Last chance for me to change my mind and call this whole thing off before I marry someone I don’t know a damn thing about, just for the sake of my business, for the sake of fulfilling what I know my father wants from me before he hands over his empire.
If enemies to lovers or fated mates is calling, there is no need to overthink it.
Look up Lokepub on Google and start browsing.
“I do.”
I’m not giving up on that. Not when I have worked so hard to get where I am. God knows I’ve lied, I’ve cheated, I’ve stolen, I’ve done far worse than just marry some woman I don’t know well.
Her hands rest in mine, and they tighten briefly when she hears me say the words out loud.
I wonder if she thought I would see sense before we got to this point, but she has no idea what it is that I’m risking by letting all of this fail, and I’m not about to let anything get in the way of what I know is mine.
“And do you, Andrea Miller,” the officiant continues, turning his gaze to her, “agree to take Nikolai as your husband? In sickness, in health, in wealth, in poverty, to love and obey and honor him above all others?”
She draws in a deep, shaky breath. I can see it in her eyes, how close she is to telling him no—to saying that this is all crazy and exposing the mess that I’ve drawn her into.
I stare down at her, reminding her silently of what’s on the line for her if she screws this up for me.
I know she likely doesn’t deserve to be at the receiving end of my fury for Natalie’s fuckup, but that doesn’t mean I won’t follow through on everything I said to her back in that hotel room if she makes a fool of me now.
“I do,” she whispers.
Thank God. She saw sense. She might not know me well, but she knows enough not to make this mistake here in front of everyone.
One of the bridesmaids, who’s staring between us with a look of utter confusion on her face, steps forward to hold out the rings on the small velvet pillow she has been keeping them on in preparation for this moment.
We both take the rings from the pillow, and I pull Andie’s hand toward me—I can’t help but notice how long and delicate her fingers are, still trembling as I slip the silver band over her finger, studded with diamonds worth more than this whole room.
She takes the other band and pushes it down to the bottom of my finger, staring at it the whole time, as though trying to work out if this is really happening.
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant announces.
I had almost forgotten I’d have to do this part at all.
Natalie and I have hardly been physically affectionate since we got engaged.
I think the closest we’ve been so far is posing for our engagement pictures, Natalie hanging off my arm with a beaming smile on her face that dropped every time the camera stopped flashing.
I should have known then that there was something seriously wrong, but I never could have imagined that she’d have the nerve to pull something like this on me.
I lift my hands to cup Andie’s face in mine, and she gazes up at me, those bright eyes filled with a million emotions that I’m not sure even she can make sense of right now.
But we have to seal this. Have to make certain that this looks real in every way everyone expects of us.
So, after a moment, I lean forward and I plant my lips against hers.
It’s just a brief kiss, as much a performance as the rest of this day has been, but the moment our mouths meet, I feel something shift inside of me. As though all the falsehoods and fakery have burned away in a matter of seconds, and now there’s something else here between us.
Something real.
Her lips part slightly, and she reaches up to put a hand on my chest. It could just be part of the performance, but I get the feeling there’s more to it than that.
For just a second, the entire room falls away around me, and I’m not thinking about the people watching us, the weight on my shoulders, the fact that the woman I was meant to marry has made a break for it and left me here to marry the fucking wedding planner in her place.
No, as the scent of Andie’s perfume swirls around me, all I can think about is how her mouth feels on mine, the brush of her soft skin against my own, her cheeks like satin under my thumbs.
When I pull back, I notice that her cheeks are flushed. She slips her hand into mine without prompting, and the officiant steps forward, past the baffled bridal party, and claps his hand together.
“I am pleased to announce you husband and wife,” he exclaims, and there is an edge of panic to his tone, like he knows he has just been involved in something mad. “And to introduce you to Nikolai and Andrea Artesco!”
There’s a pause before the applause starts, but a second later, the room is filled with it. I’m not sure how much stock I should put in it, how much these people actually believe what they have just seen unfold before them, but I’m not sure it really matters.
I am married.
I set out today knowing that I would end it as a husband, and I have done just that. As labyrinthine a task as it has been to actually get down the aisle today, I have done it, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way of that.
With Andie’s hand in mine, I stride down the aisle, putting a smile on my face that I hope passes for anticipation of a lifetime of wedded bliss.
She has to rush to keep up with me, and I can feel her ring pressing into my hand, not yet warmed by her skin, cold with an odd clarity that underlines the enormity of what I’ve just done.
“Where are we going?” she whispers to me above the sound of the applause around us.
“To the car.”
“The car?” she hisses back. “But there’s a whole reception?—”
“Do you really want to stick around and give everyone a chance to ask why I swapped out brides at the last minute?” I retort, and she falls silent.
She knows I have a point. I can only imagine the gossip that will swirl at the after-party, but that’s for them to handle, not me. I’m going to get the hell out of this city, and by the time I come back, the heat will have died down enough that they will have moved on to the next scandal.
As I walk out of the hall with my new wife at my side, I wonder if I made the right call. I wonder just what my father is going to say when he meets her for the first time.
And I wonder whether Andie is going to be able to keep her mouth shut about the mess that brought her to my side in the first place.