Chapter 30
Roxy
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest's voice rings out, a sheen of sweat on his forehead.
I wonder how many fingers they threatened to break to get him here, but I'm too absorbed by the man grinning like his deepest wish just came true.
"You may kiss—".
Before the priest can finish, Damien's hands cup my nape and pull me gently toward him. My palms settle instinctively over his, and the moment his taste, a subtle mix of mint and whiskey, envelops me, I forget the audience completely and deepen the kiss.
The faint taste of mint and whiskey floods my senses, cool and burning all at once.
The garden, the faint music, the voices — they all dissolve into nothing.
There’s only the pull of his mouth, the soft scrape of his stubble, and the way my body tilts forward, chasing more.
Needing more. I forget the crowd, the eyes watching, the reason we’re even here.
All that exists is him, the man who can unravel me with a single touch.
Whistles and applause erupt behind us, and only then does my brain remember where we are.
I pull away, heat rising in my face, and glance around for Luna, but his voice reaches my ear before I can move.
"Told you I always make my dreams come true."
A shiver races across my skin, though I hide it quickly.
"Let's hope your dream doesn't turn into a nightmare," I reply and turn toward my best friend.
A knowing grin spreads across her face, too wide to be innocent, and when I narrow my eyes, she breaks into laughter. Roman comes up behind her, slipping his arms around her protectively.
Victoria bounces toward us, radiating so much happiness she looks ready to explode in a shower of sparkly pink confetti.
"Congratulations!" she squeals, practically jumping, trembling with excitement.
"Thanks, Vi," I whisper and pull her into a hug.
She smells like fresh pastries, and I don't miss the way Max and Roman watch her like she's a priceless artifact.
If Niko didn't have an important contract to sign in Tokyo, I'm sure he'd complete the holy trinity of protection around her.
I feel sorry for the poor bastard who dares try to steal her away from them, but I'll be ready with my popcorn when the testosterone bombs start dropping.
Luna appears instantly behind Victoria and wraps both of us in a warm embrace.
"I'm so happy for you, Roxy."
I shoot her a look that says "you know this isn't exactly what it seems," but that only brings a sly gleam to her eyes.
"Whatever you say," she whispers with barely masked amusement.
After receiving everyone's congratulations, I feel a strong hand grip my waist possessively.
"I swear you're even more beautiful now that you're bearing my name," my brand-new husband whispers in my ear.
"Nowhere in the contract does it say you're also suffering from myopia, but I'll chalk that up to my good luck."
He bursts into a deep laugh. "Don't be grumpy," he murmurs and leaves a delicate kiss on my cheek.
And I don't know why, but the gesture brings a shy smile to my lips. Probably all the euphoria and endorphins floating in the air.
Several associates appear before us, who, after congratulating Damien, bow to kiss my hand. Each murmurs a few words in Polish, I assume, and I throw Damien a questioning look.
"It's a vow of loyalty," he explains. "Everyone knows that if it ever comes down to it, you're the priority. Your life comes before theirs."
I feel the blood drain from my face as I squeeze his hand. I think my brain is only now truly grasping what I've gotten myself into.
Vasili appears before us too and, after congratulating Damien, turns to me. He kisses my hand, recites the same vow as the others, then adds, "Since we all protect your back, I hope you'll at least protect his."
"Vasili." Damien's voice rumbles like a threatening growl, but his right-hand man simply nods curtly and retreats.
"He's a good friend," I tell Damien, my voice perfectly neutral.
"Yes, but he doesn't need to speak to you like that."
I don't respond though I feel a wave of guilt prick at me from Vasili's words.
These people have sworn their lives to protect me, and I'm only here for my own interests.
Because I'm not naive. I understand Damien needs this image of a settled man for the Council's vote, but I'm the one gaining the most from this arrangement.
When we step into the ballroom, my gaze is captured by tables elegantly arranged along the edges of the room, decorated in shades of white and green, adorned with Franklin tea flowers.
A band plays discreetly in one corner, and I have to admit everything looks impeccable.
On each table gleams an arrangement with candles and gold ribbons, the tablecloths are pristine white, and every server is dressed flawlessly.
Cold marble makes contact with my heels and I feel a surge of power when all eyes turn toward us.
Damien takes my waist and guides me to the center of the ballroom. Suddenly, the opening notes of "Issues" by Julia Michaels fill the room.
"This is the song you chose for us?" I ask with laughter in my voice.
Only he could choose our first dance to be a song literally called "Issues." Though, looking back, it's a fitting choice considering we both have closets full of skeletons.
A genuine smile lights up his entire face.
"It's perfect for us. Because I know I have a lot of flaws, Roxanne, but if anyone can handle them, it's you," he whispers.
My heart lurches when I see all that vulnerability in his gaze.
"But my biggest issue is how much I need you," he murmurs, and his words raise goosebumps on my skin.
Because that's all I've ever been. A problem. No one has ever needed me. No one bothered to fight, to understand, to listen. Not until the man in front of me, who has something in his eyes I can't even define. Affection? Fascination?
So, before I can second-guess myself, I rise up and kiss him lightly on the cheek. He turns his head subtly so our lips are only millimeters apart.
"I knew you couldn't resist kissing me," he says, but my gaze is fixed on his dimples.
I know he's trying to make a joke so I won't retreat again, so I whisper something that makes his entire body go rigid.
"As insufferable as you are, and I'm sure this marriage will eat years off my life, you're the only one I would've agreed to this insanity with."
I refuse to look at him, but I feel his intense gaze on my skin, radiating heat.
Other couples join us on the dance floor. Roman with Luna, Maksim with Julia, and several of Damien's associates accompanied by their wives.
Everyone wears custom-tailored suits and jewelry I'm certain would make even a royal family feel inadequate, but perhaps most importantly, they all carry a cautious aura.
After the song ends, Damien leaves a kiss on my cheek and heads toward a gentleman at the opposite end of the ballroom.
I'm immediately swarmed by a group of ladies who, after the requisite congratulations, begin talking about their own events and how eager they are to invite me to their dinners.
Yeah, they can wait forever.
"Sorry, but I need to steal the bride for a few moments." Luna's voice cuts through, and I've never breathed easier.
After she pulls me toward one of the buffets, I tell her, "Thank you for saving me. I was about to set fire to one of them, who was explaining why white tulips would've worked better on the tables."
"Let's not summon the fire department today," Luna replies with a laugh, and I see how instinctively she searches for Roman with her eyes. He's talking with my brand-new husband.
Probably sensing my stare, Damien turns toward me and those damned dimples make an appearance. Why does he have to be so adorable?
"Follow your heart, Roxy," Luna whispers. "It's the same advice you gave me, and I know how hard it is to let that wall down after everything you've been through in other relationships, but I truly believe Damien is different."
"Definitely. How many of my exes knew how to skin someone alive? Or run a criminal organization? Or exasperate me with their sex jokes?"
"Or who are capable of putting all their power into protecting you from some bastard who's stalking you?" she counters. "Or who threatened the florist that for every wilted flower, he'd rip out a fingernail?" She bursts into laughter.
I bite my lower lip because I can absolutely hear him making that threat.
From behind Damien, I see a man in a suit striding purposefully toward them, and something bothers me about his outfit. All our servers have a vest with a single pocket at the top. His has two pockets at the bottom, and then my eyes narrow on his hand, which is behind his pants.
I don't realize when I start running, or how I shove through the crowd on the dance floor to reach him, but when the gun flashes in the individual's hand, I scream Damien's name and throw myself over him.
The sound of the weapon rings in my ears as chaos erupts around us.
I hear a groan coming from Damien, and when I lift myself slightly, I see red spreading across my abdomen. His eyes fly open and fix on my hands and my dress, now soaked with blood. Blood I know isn't mine because I don't feel any pain.
I frantically search for the wound when I spot his white shirt soaking with blood on the side.
No, no, no, I repeat like a mantra.
Not him. My heart squeezes painfully and my lungs seem to have forgotten how to function.
Why do you take everyone who cares about me? What did I do to you that was so terrible?
"Damien, talk to me."
His gaze starts losing focus, and my heart shatters into a thousand pieces.
"You got blood on your dress," he murmurs, and I feel the urge to smack him because right now the dress is the last thing on my mind.
"I promise to let you buy me another one if you keep your eyes open for me, baby," I tell him, trying to smile.
His fingers rise toward my face, but halfway there a grimace of pain crosses his features, so I grab his hand in mine and bring it to my cheek.
"Promise?" He tries to smile, but his eyes lose the battle and close.
Hands lift me and I realize it's Maksim, whom I shove violently.
"Let me go!" I scream almost hysterically, my gaze fixed on Damien, collapsed on the floor.
"Take him to the basement," Vasili's order rings out, and when I look in their direction, I see several soldiers restraining the man who shot my husband.
His gaze is full of fury and hatred, and I know the bullet was meant to kill, not wound.
"The doctor will be here in five minutes," Roman tells me, trying again to pull me away from Damien.
Why does everyone keep insisting on separating me from him?
I whirl toward Roman and tell him sharply, "I want everyone out. NOW!"
I know he sees in my eyes that I'm capable of personally evacuating every soul in this room that's stealing his oxygen, so he nods curtly and, together with Maksim and the other soldiers, begins escorting guests out.
Somewhere in the distance I hear Roman's voice, feel Luna's hands squeezing my shoulders gently, and I think I see Julia taking her gun out and threatening a lady to move, but my eyes return to his face, unable to look anywhere else.
I kneel beside the man who an hour ago was smiling, the only one who made my chest feel less heavy.
His complexion takes on a worrying pallor, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat. I will not cry in front of his associates. I won't give them reasons to doubt him.
"Roxy," I hear Uncle Henry's voice.
Without taking my eyes off my husband, I respond, "Go with Luna, please. I'll call you later." My voice breaks at the end.
Damn it.
I lift Damien’s head and rest it in my lap, forcing my voice to stay steady. When I press my hands over his wound, a groan of pain escapes him, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out myself.
I swear they'll bleed for what they did to you. I swear.