Chapter 33
Hazel
The day had finally arrived.
I stood in front of the dressing room mirror, staring at myself in a wedding gown, wondering if I was dreaming.
From the moment I'd opened my eyes this morning, nothing felt real.
Like someone would jump out any second and tell me.
Wake up, Hazel. None of this is real.
Because it was all too incredible.
A year ago, my mother threw me out. My boyfriend cheated on me. Everyone looked down on me. I thought my life would just drag on like that—growing old in poverty and shame.
But now I stood in the most luxurious manor in Los Angeles, wearing a custom wedding gown worth tens of thousands of dollars, about to marry the most powerful man in the city.
I had an adorable daughter, a best friend who treated me like a sister, and a group of people who genuinely wished me well.
I'd even achieved my dream of working in my favorite painter's studio.
It was all too perfect. So perfect it scared me.
"Ready?" Anya pushed the door open, breaking my thoughts.
She wore a pale pink bridesmaid dress and carried a bouquet of white tulips, her smile bright as sunshine.
"Ready," I answered with a smile.
The manor's back garden looked like something out of a fairy tale.
White chairs lined the manicured lawn in neat rows, a white carpet running down the aisle between them.
Flower arches twined with blooms and greenery, sunlight filtering through leaves in dappled patterns.
The air smelled faintly of flowers mixed with fresh-cut grass.
The seats held Gromov family elders and core members. These men who usually killed without blinking wore sharp suits today, their expressions as serious as if attending a mob meeting.
Jack sat in the front row, flashing me an encouraging smile. Margaret sat beside him, handkerchief in hand, eyes already red.
When the music started, my heart nearly burst from my chest.
"Don't be nervous," Anya whispered beside me. "Just pretend you're walking, only dressed nicer than usual. Deep breath."
How could I not be nervous?
My legs were shaking. If Anya wasn't holding me up, I might have collapsed.
I did what she said and took a deep breath.
It didn't help.
Especially when I saw the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
Viktor looked criminally handsome today.
He wore a perfectly tailored black custom suit that made his frame even more imposing.
His hair gleamed metallic in the sunlight, not a strand out of place. His beard was trimmed neat, defining his perfect jawline.
But his eyes drew me most.
Those ice-blue eyes locked on me like I was the only person in the world. That focus, that devotion, that undisguised love made me forget to breathe.
This powerful, dangerous man saw only me.
I couldn't wait to reach Viktor. As I walked down the white carpet toward him, I saw his throat work.
His hands at his sides, fingers curling slightly, like he was fighting for control.
He was nervous too.
The man who controlled Los Angeles's entire underworld, the Pakhan who never showed weakness—he was nervous because of me.
That knowledge made my heart race faster, but also calmed me somehow.
It's okay. I wasn't nervous alone.
When I reached him, Anya released my hand and stepped aside.
Viktor held out his hand. I placed mine in his palm. His hand was warm and dry, gripping tight, as if afraid I'd run.
"You're beautiful," he said hoarsely, voice barely audible. "So beautiful I almost forgot to breathe."
My face flushed instantly, but I didn't look away.
"You look handsome too," I whispered. "Almost unreal."
Viktor's mouth curved in a barely visible smile.
The minister began the ceremony.
He recited the traditional vows, asking Viktor if he would take me as his wife, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, to love, respect, comfort, and protect me forever.
"I do." Viktor didn't hesitate.
Then the minister turned to me with the same question.
I looked into Viktor's eyes.
Those eyes were tender enough to melt, clearly reflecting my image.
The girl in them had a determined gaze as she said softly:
"I do."
Soft sobbing came from the seats. Margaret was crying, handkerchief pressed to her mouth.
Time for the rings.
Our wedding bands were specially designed by Anya. She'd always wanted to be a jewelry designer. These were originally meant for her own wedding, but she'd rushed them out for ours instead.
I couldn't have been happier with that arrangement.
To me, Anya was family I'd walk through life with. I had no doubt about that.
"Now," the minister smiled, "the groom may kiss the bride."
Viktor lifted my veil.
His fingers brushed my cheek, thumb grazing my lips, eyes full of devotion and treasure. He just looked at me, as if burning my image into his memory forever.
Then he slowly lowered his head, giving me time to react, before gently kissing my lips.
The kiss was soft, tender, nothing like his usual possessive dominance. His lips touched mine carefully, reverently.
The seats erupted in applause and whistles. People cheered and whooped, Jack shouting something loud.
But I heard nothing.
I only felt Viktor's lips, his breath, his warmth, and my heart exploding in my chest.
In that moment, I finally knew—this wasn't a dream.
This was real.
Viktor was my husband.
The reception lasted until late into the night.
The wedding was far livelier than I'd expected.
Though I had almost no relatives or friends of my own, Viktor was Los Angeles's most prominent Pakhan. Everyone connected to him who could make it packed the manor.
The usually spacious manor felt crowded. The ballroom overflowed with people, the hallways lined with guests.
Everyone came dressed to the nines, faces bright with genuine smiles.
Viktor pulled me through the crowd, accepting their blessings.
So many people came to congratulate us. Family elders, core members, business partners, even some politicians.
Everyone had to shake our hands, hug us, offer a few words of blessing, then toast.
My face ached from smiling, but I was happy.
Whether the blessings were sincere or not, just doing this with Viktor was enough.
But my happiness faded as the numbers grew. My smile felt frozen.
Near midnight, it finally ended. Most guests had left, only a few stragglers remained in the ballroom.
Anya walked over holding Sofia.
"Little one's tired," Anya said, looking at the sleeping baby. "I'm taking her to bed. You two..."
She gave us a loaded look, eyes teasing.
"Enjoy your wedding night," Anya whispered in my ear. "Remember to use protection."
My face burned from my ears to my neck, even my ears felt hot.
"Anya!" I protested softly.
Anya laughed and left with Sofia, glancing back to wink at me.
Viktor watched my flushed face, his eyes growing dark and dangerous, like deep ocean water.
Before I could say anything, he swept me up in his arms.
"Viktor!" I gasped, automatically wrapping my arms around his neck. "What are you doing?"
"Taking my wife to bed," he said, voice rough. "I've been patient all day."
He strode toward the stairs, and I could feel the coiled tension in his muscles, the restraint barely holding.
"The guests—"
"Are gone," he cut me off. "It's just us now."
He kicked the bedroom door shut behind us, setting me down only long enough to lock it. Then his mouth was on mine, hot and demanding, nothing like the gentle kiss at the altar.
His hands found the zipper of my dress, sliding it down with practiced ease. The heavy fabric pooled at my feet, leaving me in just white lace.
"God," he breathed against my neck. "Do you know how hard it was watching you in this dress all night, knowing I couldn't touch you?"
His lips traced down my throat, teeth grazing my collarbone. I shivered, fingers tangling in his hair.
"The whole ceremony," he murmured between kisses, "I kept thinking about getting you alone."
He lifted me again, carrying me to the bed. My back hit the soft mattress, and he followed me down, caging me with his arms.
"You're mine now," he said, ice-blue eyes burning. "My wife."
"I've been yours," I whispered back.
Something shifted in his expression—possession mixing with tenderness. His kiss softened slightly as his hands explored, reverent and claiming at once.
He stripped away the lace with careful urgency, his own clothes following. Skin met skin, and I arched into him, drawing a growl from deep in his chest.
"Hazel," he breathed my name like a prayer. "My Hazel."
His hands mapped every curve, every dip of my body—rough palms sliding over my skin, squeezing my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples until they ached.
He gripped my thighs and spread me wider, fingers dipping between my legs to find me already slick.
When he finally pushed inside, thick and hard, stretching me open in one slow thrust, we both gasped.
I felt every inch of him filling me, the sudden fullness stealing my breath.
He moved slowly at first, watching my face, hips rolling deep so I felt him drag against every sensitive spot. But need built fast. Gentle turned hungry. He pulled almost all the way out, then drove back in harder, the wet sound of our bodies loud between us.
"Look at me," he commanded roughly when my eyes fluttered closed. One hand gripped my hip hard; the other threaded through my hair, holding me in place. "I want to see you."
I looked, meeting those burning blue eyes as he thrust deeper, harder. His cock stretched me on every stroke.
"Viktor," I gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapping tight around his waist to pull him deeper.
"That's it," he growled, pace increasing, hips snapping. "Say my name."
The world vanished—only his heavy weight pinning me down, the heat of his skin, the thick slide of him inside me. Pleasure coiled tight and hot low in my belly. I shattered first, crying out as I clenched and pulsed around him, wet and greedy.
He followed moments later with a guttural groan, face buried in my neck, body shuddering as he came hard, cock jerking deep inside me, filling me in hot pulses while he kept thrusting through it.
We lay tangled together afterward, hearts racing, skin slick with sweat.
"Mrs. Gromov," he murmured against my hair, arms tight around me.
I smiled into his chest. "Mr. Gromov."
His chest rumbled with quiet laughter. "I love you."
"I love you too."
And lying there in his arms, I finally let myself believe it. This was real. This was my life now.
And it was everything.