CHAPTER 17
Rodian
Dressed in a black tux and ready, I welcome the guests as they arrive.
Atanas is standing beside me, looking like a damn meercat every time a car pulls up.
“Don’t make it obvious,” I chuckle.
“Fuck that shit.” He checks the time on his wristwatch, then asks, “Are you sure she’s coming?”
“For the hundredth time, she said she would.” I shoo him away from me. “Go get a drink. You’re making me fucking nervous.”
Just then, a Porsche 911 Turbo draws everyone’s attention as the engine roars.
“I need to get myself one of those,” Constantin, the head of the Romanian mafia, says as he comes to stand by us.
The sports car comes to a standstill, and when one of my many guards opens the driver’s door, a woman gets out.
Her light brown hair is cut in a stylish bob with blue streaks woven through the strands.
They match the dress she’s wearing, which leaves her entire back exposed, a red dragon tattoo on full display.
When she turns around and I see her face, I’m fucking surprised that it’s Rosie. Taking the steps down, I shake my head and say, “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Am I first?” She glances over all the cars, and the next instant a Mustang pulls up the driveway, and she fist-bumps the air. “I won!” Turning back to face me, she grins. “Wow, you clean up pretty nicely.”
I lean down and press a kiss to her cheek. “Trust you to make an entrance.”
“Of course.” She walks around the Porsche and opens the passenger door, then proceeds to take out two phones, a tablet, and a backpack, slinging the strap over her shoulder.
Taking the steps to the porch, she says, “I’m so glad Atanas and Constantin are already here. Follow me, gentlemen. I need to insert your tracker devices.”
“Can’t it wait?” Atanas asks, his eyes barely leaving the driveway.
“No.”
Giving Andrei a chin lift, I say, “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
“If anyone sees Devran, send him to Rodian’s office,” Rosie calls out to no one specific.
“And Ryo?” I ask about the head of the Yakuza, who still has to arrive.
“No, he already has a tracking device,” Rosie replies.
Enzo catches up to me, and we shake hands while we walk, then he goes to grab the backpack from his fiancée and gives her a dark scowl. “I’m going to tan your ass. You were going way too fucking fast.”
“Oooh, I’m shaking in my boots,” she sasses him.
We all pile into my office and watch as she takes a leather pouch from the backpack. Opening it, there are five injections.
When she picks up the first one, Constantin pushes me closer, muttering, “You can go first.”
“Are you afraid of needles?” Atanas asks him.
“No, fuckface. Rodian needs to get back to his wedding,” he grumbles.
Taking off my jacket, I rest it over one of the chairs in front of my desk before unbuttoning my cuff.
“No,” Rosie shakes her head at me. “I want to inject the tracker into your shoulder in case you lose your arm while being tortured.”
“You could’ve told me you were planning on doing this before I got dressed,” I mutter as I undo the bowtie.
When I finally peel my dress shirt over my shoulder, I’m scowling at Rosie, who gets way too much fucking pleasure from jabbing a needle into my skin.
While she moves on to Atanas, I get dressed again.
“Are you nervous?” Enzo asks me.
I shake my head and gesture at Atanas. “He is. Did Raya fly in with you guys?”
He nods. “When we left the hotel, she was on a business call, so she should be here soon.”
“Thank fuck,” Atanas whispers while buttoning up his shirt again.
I’m still busy with my vest, but when he hightails it out of the office, I grab my jacket and jog after him.
“Hold up,” I say, shoving the jacket into his hands so I can fix my bowtie, then I ask, “How does it look?”
“Perfect.” He holds the jacket up so I can slip my arms into it, and while I button it, we walk out onto the porch.
I’m just in time to welcome Christiano, the Capo dei Capi of the Cosa Nostra, and his wife, Sienna.
Everyone arrives with their own entourage of guards, and by the time Yegor’s associates pull up to the house, they are outnumbered a hundred to one.
“Here goes everything,” I mutter to Andrei as I take the stairs down, and as Zubkov, Yeltsin, and Popov get out of the same car, they glance at the side of the estate where Tamara has decorated the garden for the ceremony and reception.
Noticing all the influential people I’ve managed to get together in one spot, the fuckers smile at me as if we’re old friends.
“You didn’t waste any time forming alliances,” Popov says as he comes to shake my hand. “We look forward to witnessing the vows between you and Yegor’s granddaughter, then we can talk business.”
I gesture to the tall tables where drinks are being served. “Enjoy the day.”
When I turn my attention back to the porch, Atanas hurries down the steps and makes a beeline for a brunette. The instant she spots him, she freezes and stares at him.
You can cut the tension between them with a knife, and when Atanas reaches who I can only presume is Raya, he presses a kiss to her cheek before offering her his arm.
Andrei taps my shoulder, then says, “Your mother says it’s time for you to take your place.”
I walk with my friend to where an arch made of tiny white flowers is standing, and taking my position by it, I glance over the rows of chairs as my guests find their seats.
Artem and Dad come to sit in the front row, and only once everyone quiets down do the opening notes of Pachelbel’s Canon in D begin to fill the air.
After our date, I’ve spent every available moment with Anastasia, and it’s become a routine for us to talk late into the night until she drifts off to sleep.
The couch has been fucking uncomfortable, but after today that will be a thing of the past.
Aunt Marina and Miss Zoya hurry up the aisle and take their seats while smiling from ear to ear.
My eyes lock on the French doors that stand open, and when I see a flash of white, I square my shoulders.
Finally. After today, Anastasia will be mine in every way.
The song changes from an orchestra playing to a solo piano, and the moment Anastasia steps into the doorway, holding a bouquet of white lilies, I’m hit with such a wave of pride, love, and awe that it knocks me a step backward.
Seeing how nervous and alone she looks, I can’t stand still, and instead walk to her. Her moss-green eyes lock on me, and she sucks in a quivering breath, doing her best not to cry.
When I reach my stunning bride, I hold out my arm so she can take it, and as she grips the crook of my elbow, I say, “I would’ve waited fifty years for you.”
A tear escapes, and as we walk to the arch where the priest is waiting, I don’t take my eyes off her.
I’m so focused on Anastasia, I probably won’t remember the ceremony, but I somehow get through my vows without fucking up.
The moment the priest finishes his blessing and lowers his hand, signaling the end of the ceremony, I wrap my arms around Anastasia and tip her backward while pressing my mouth to hers.
My wife.
Cheers erupt from the guests, but it’s quickly drowned out by shouts from the guards, indicating for us all to move to the backyard while gunfire erupts in the street.
Not hesitating, I grab Anastasia's hand and shout at my family, “Run!”
Suddenly, a truck barrels through the front wall, and knowing what’s coming, I haul my wife to the grass and cover her with my body.
An explosion blasts through the air as Andrei and Sergei throw themselves over me.
Their weight shoves me into Anastasia, but I cover her head, and by her ear, I say, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Another explosion detonates, and I hear Sergei grunt.
It feels like it takes forever before Sergei and Andrei get up, and my underboss barks, “Is it over?”
“It only looks like the one truck,” I hear a guard shout. “A suicide bomber.”
My phone begins to ring, and moving onto my haunches, I keep a hand on Anastasia’s chest while I dig the device out. Glancing over her, I check for blood while I answer, “Volkov.”
“Did you receive my wedding present?” Sokolov’s voice rumbles over the line.
“Yes,” I growl.
“You won’t live long enough to consummate the marriage.”
The call ends, and tucking the device back into my pocket, I lock eyes with Andrei and say, “I want every man on high alert. The bomb was only the start. Sokolov declared war.”
Half of the guests run for their cars, along with Zubkov, Yeltsin, and Popov.
Fucking cowards.
I rise to my feet, pulling Anastasia up. As I glance around us, I see Atanas helping Raya up. Constantin and Christiano stalk toward me, and as soon as they’re close by, Christiano asks, “Who’s responsible for the bomb?”
“Oleg Sokolov.”
“How do you want to handle this?” Constantin asks as the other heads join us.
“You all need to get out of Russia,” I say. “I’ll handle this war on my own.”
Atanas gives me a disgruntled look. “I’m not going anywhere. An attack on one of us is an attack on all of us.”
“Yeah, but we can’t stand around here like sitting ducks. One missile and the criminal world gets a facelift,” Raya gives her two cents.
“She’s right,” I agree. “Go to your hotels. Once I have a plan in place, I’ll notify you all.”
No, I won’t. This is my score to settle.
Christiano nods, and holding his wife tightly to his side, he jogs with her to his SUV.
Vadim catches my eye, and I shout at the guard, “Gather my family and get them to the safe house.”
One by one, people leave until only Atanas, Constantin, Enzo, Devran, and Ryo remain. I didn’t even get to greet the heads of the Turkish mafia and the Yakuza.
Looking at my main alliance members, it really sinks in that I got the impossible right. By overthrowing Yegor, the Bratva has moved into a new age with strong connections who are willing to fight with us.
And I’ll be damned if I let Sokolov take it away from me.
“Get your bride to a safe place. We’ll be in touch to brainstorm what to do next,” Constantin says.
I glance at Anastasia, and noticing how pale she is, I place my arm around her shoulders and pull her to my chest.
Patting Constantin’s shoulder as I pass him, I lead Anastasia into the house so she can change out of the wedding gown. We also need to pack a bag for a couple of days.
Andrei stays right behind us until we enter the main bedroom, where he stands guard by the door.
Stopping in the walk-in closet, I grip Anastasia by her shoulders and lean down to catch her eyes that are filled with shock.
“How are you holding up, moya krasavitsa?”
She lifts her hand and takes hold of my jacket’s lapel, then slowly inches forward until she presses her face into my chest. “I-I just need a minute.”
Wrapping her in a hug, I drop kisses on her hair and say, “I’m so fucking sorry this happened on our special day.”
“Can I ask what’s going on?”
“Oleg Sokolov was Yegor’s best friend, and he’s pissed. He wants to take over the Bratva.” I hesitate to tell her the rest, but figuring the more she knows, the better, I add, “And he wants you to marry his son.”
When her body shudders, I pull back so I can see her face that’s torn with concern.
I shake my head fast. “Don’t even worry about it. You’re mine, and I will kill every fucking person who tries to take you from me.”
“Can we leave?” Her fingers curl into my lapels, and she gives me a pleading look. “Before they attack again.”
“Of course.” I have to take hold of her hands and pull them away from my jacket, so I can reach into the closet and take out a bag. “Change out of the dress. It will only slow you down.”
Neither of us realizes Anastasia is getting undressed right behind me until I’m done tossing two sets of clothes into the bag and I turn to her side of the closet.
Coming to a sudden halt, my jaw drops to the fucking carpet. My eyes lock on the white lace covering one hell of a fuckable ass, and I hiss, “Iisus Khristos.”
Anastasia snaps upright and spins around, and I’m hit with another sexy-as-fuck view when I get to see her full breasts straining against the bra. A hundred bombs can go off, and I wouldn’t be able to tear my gaze away from my fucking hot wife.
When I saw her half naked two weeks ago, I was too focused on the breakdown she was having to really appreciate her body, and with the weight she’s regained, every inch of her has filled out perfectly.
“Ah…” I struggle to speak, still struck speechless.
Anastasia quickly takes a cashmere sweater from the cupboard, her cheeks turning bright red.
Before she can cover herself, I grab her wrist and step closer. With my other hand, I grip her side, and pushing her backward, I pin her to the wall.
“Now I’m the one who needs a minute,” I say, my voice thick with desire. “I need to admire my perfect wife.”
The embarrassment drains from her face when she realizes I’m in awe of her, and her voice is sweet and soft as she admits, “I wanted to look as good as I could for our wedding night.”
Unable to filter my words, I growl, “You are so fucking sexy, I’m going to walk around with a hard-on until I get to be inside you.”
My right hand moves on its own up her side, and when I palm her breast, her fullness spilling beyond my grip, I swear I come a little in my pants while letting out a groan.
“Rodian!” Andrei calls from the doorway. “Are you almost done?”
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Just grabbing the last couple of things.” It takes more willpower than I thought I possessed to let go of her so we can finish packing, but I order, “Don’t take off the lace.”
Anastasia shakes her head lightly as if she’s coming out of a trance, then remembering she has to get dressed, she puts on the sweater.
I grab two of the dresses she’s just finished making and a very warm coat. When I notice she has more lace underwear, I grin like an idiot as I throw a few matching sets into the bag.
Instead of wearing one of her skirts, she pulls a pair of jeans off a shelve and when she shimmies into them, my cock jerks and I let out a self-pitying grumble. “Seeing your sexy ass jiggle is killing me.”
“Pack!” she chastises me while trying to hide a smile.
Loving the tight jeans on her, I grab another one and a warm top before rushing to the bathroom to get our toiletries.
When we’re finally done and join Andrei by the door, he mutters, “You took your sweet fucking time.”
“The risk was worth it,” I say, linking my fingers with Anastasia’s.
As soon as we’re safe, I’m going to feast on every inch of my wife’s body and consummate this marriage.